Chapter 22 | Why?
"I can't help but think of the phrase "sometimes it is better to be kept in the dark than be blinded by the light.""
-Anna Todd, After
Stepping forward I try to relieve myself from the shock.
Standing right before it, I crouch down to pick it up.
"Luna!" My head swerves back on its own accord to the voice and I straighten up.
One of the assistant designers run to me with some file in her hand.
"Luna, you left this back," she says handing it back to me.
Crap! I forgot my client file there. "Thanks a bunch," I smile at her warmly.
The young girl nods at me with a polite courtesy and takes leave.
Recognizing my primacies, I turn back to the mask just to notice it gone.
What the hell? I blink twice in confusion and my eyes roam up and down the corridor.
Not a sign of anyone else. My footsteps; a soft echo in my ears.
Stealing to the intersection of the corridors, I stop only to hear nothing. No scents in the air.
Who was it?
Shrugging out of my black trench coat, I hang it on the coat rack next to the door.
I place my phone, keys on the bedside table and turn to take a long bubbly, bath. Such a tiring meeting!
The bunch of keys falling down the table alerts me. I must've placed them on the brim.
Shaking my head at my absurdity, I bend to pick them up. My cherry lip balm rolls near it. How did this get here?
I pick both of them and depositing the keys on the table top, I slide out the top drawer to dump in the balm. The similar shimmer of crimson that met with me earlier that day meets my eyes once again.
The red mask once again.
How the hell did this get here?
Only Rick, I and some maids enter this room. I'm also pretty sure that the maids
wouldn't have dumped a mask into a drawer even if they found something lying around. They would've placed on the top or something.
Then who else?
Rick?
Why?
Entering our room, I crack my knuckles and pop my neck.
Such a tiring day. Now that dinner... Blythe sits on the bed, her view on the carpet but her thoughts elsewhere.
Her hands beside her on either side clutching the comforter, as she keeps biting her lower lip. Something she does when she's nervous.
Neither has she changed out of her black and white striped sheath dress nor taken off her black stiletto ankle boots. Her black trench coat hangs by the door. She must've been back a long time ago, why hasn't she changed?
"How did your meeting go?" I ask her testing the waters. She doesn't reply to me just continues to gaze elsewhere. Removing my wristwatch, I place my keys, phone and wristwatch on the drawer top. Her eyes dart to my hands and back but she remains mute. Her face trapped into oblivion.
"Blythe," I call her gently. No answer. What the fuck was wrong?
"Angel, are you okay?" I sit beside her slinging my arm around her shoulder. She shrugs my arm off and gets off the bed. What?
Her muteness gets into my nerves. What happened? Why is she not talking? Who the fuck messed with her?
"Blythe," I call her again, but this time more sternly. "Answer me." "You want to tell me anything about this?" She asks me. "About what?" I shoot at her. What the hell is this about?
She stretches her fisted hand out to me and opens. How the fuck did she get this?
"Where did you get that? Put that down now," I inquire impatiently. She raises an eyebrow tentatively. "Besides that's just a mask. What's wrong with it?" I reply trying to calm myself.
"Seriously, that's just a mask?" She repeat after me. "Your reaction does not imply that it's just a mask!"
"Blythe I was going to tell you but you never had the time-" "You never had the time?
" She breaks into a malevolent laugh. "Seriously, Rick, you think I wouldn't have the time to listen about what the hell my mother's murderer's mask was doing in my mate's bedside table?
Stop being ridiculous!" I could sense her anger surfacing.
Her mother's murderer's..... "What?" Her rigid angry face melts away into confusion and settles on a frown. "What 'what'?" She asks me slowly. "This is your mom's murderer's mask?"
"Yes!" She huffs out exasperatedly. "And what is it doing in your bedside table?"
"I thought your parents were killed by rogues." Weren't they? Her lips pull into a smile, a bitter one but stunning at the lest and she raises an eyebrow reminding me that I have an unanswered question on my plate.
"Okay, okay!" I hold up my hands resignedly. It's time to let the cat out of the bag.
"It's the mask of my mom's murderer too."
"What?" Her breathy whisper breaks the silence. "But Kay told me that you all could never find the murderer and that it was a dead end...." She drifts away.
"That's what they know," I shrug. "Well then what's the actual truth?" She asks me rolling her eyes.
"After a couple of days after my mom was killed a young she-pup came to meet me.
She was a rogue and so it seemed. She claimed to have run away from her pack because of her abusive stepparents.
She was of the age of fourteen. Raven waves, pale skin, dimples.
Pretty. She requested to privately meet me stating that it was a matter of her safety.
I was in no state to attend to her as I was mourning over my lost mother and searching for that bastards of those murderers.
But I had to being a king and all. That was the most useful thing, I guess.
She revealed to me that she was in hiding when she saw my mom being abducted.
She said that all the goons were wearing full covered attire apart from the leader who was just wearing a mask.
A red one," I pause, gauging her reaction.
"She was a good artist," I continue as I partially zone out and Blythe gives me a snarky glance. "The girl," I clarify.
"Her name was Mae. She sketched out the mask of the leader. Those were heritage masks. Not everyone could make them. They are not made nowadays too," I explain walking to the bookshelf. Rummaging through the titles I pick out 'King Lear.' Picking out the paper from the book, I hand it to her.
"She painted this," I explain as her eyes skim the leaf of paper.
Minutes of silence pass. "She's a great artist," Blythe says slowly.
"That she is," I nod looking at the drawing.
An exact replica of the red mask, except that it wasn't in red.
Her eyes juxtapose both the sketch and the real mask in her hand.
"I've been searching for that mask since then. Today when I was leaving my office, I came across this mask screwed on the floor with no scents nearby. It did not feel safe to take it to my office so I kept it here," I clarify patiently as she remains silent.
"Where is she, now?" Who?
"Eh, Who?" I ask her puzzled. "Mae."
Oh. "She's high schooling now. My dad adopted her into our family soon after, of course he just knew about her past." "That's nice of him," she mumbles nodding.
"We consider her our family. Which she obviously is.
Always ceases to do the best. You didn't answer my question from earlier," I remind her.
Frowning she looks at me confused. "Your parents weren't killed in a rogue attack? "
"No, they were killed in an attack by the Rapscallion pack. Actually it was not an attack, it was a total wipeout. Well, you know the rest," she state matter-of-factly. "The Rapscallion pack? That's Alpha Xandro's pack, right?" I think out loud.
"Xandro? Wasn't it Kaden?" She asks me.
"Xandro is Kaden's son. Kaden must've planned the attack. That scoundrel was infamous for his behavior. Both as a ruthless Alpha and an ultimate womanizer. Gave my dad a load of headaches," I shoot. "That's the fucker!" She too spits out viciously.
"The same heritage mask used at both, your pack's wipeout and my mom's murder. But not the same person..." I wonder out loud again. "How can you be sure that it's not the same person?" She asks tentatively.
"Well, my mom was killed two years ago but, Kaden was executed three years back."
"Kaden was executed?" She repeats after me. "Yeah, a royal ordinance was passed on his execution." "He should not have died. He should not. Why? Why? Why?" Blythe sinks onto the floor with her head in her hands.
What?
"Blythe are you alright? What happened? Why?" I squat beside her, my arms around her, tilting her head up. "Why? He was not supposed to die, Rick!" She acclaims.
"He was supposed to be killed... By me! I've waited all my life training for that instant of joy and I get to know that he was executed!
How can the Goddess be so cruel to me, depriving me of my own ambition?
He was supposed to be killed by me!" She screams out angrily and turns to me, her flashing silver eyes freeze a pale grey.
"Jeez, so much for being an Alpha King, Rick.
She's scarier," my wolf states astonished.
"Blythe," I place my palms on her cold cheeks, as they grow warm under my touch. "Look at me," I tell her careful not to put any Alpha-command into my voice.
I definitely didn't want to piss her wolf off more, questioning who's higher. She turns to me, her placid deep grey eyes boring into mine, reminding me of deep grey sea waves splashing against the hard rocks.
Her accelerated heartbeat decelerates as the silver melts into emerald and she looks all vulnerable with her anger stripped off. She looks lost.
"Angel, you're okay. The Goddess wants the best for you. She wiped that muck of a man out of earth in turn for all the atrocities he has committed. Don't dwell on that," I say gently, not knowing how to comfort her and press my lips on her forehead.
She pulls me down and I sit down on the floor as she nestles closer. Crouching front again she unstraps her shoes, pushes them away and rests her left cheek against my chest.
"I have no idea how that motherfucker had a son like Xandro," I murmur in her hair. "His son is good?" She asks me puzzled.
"He is the best Alpha ever for the Rapscallion pack. Apart from the fact that, the pack already had narcissistic ideas, he leads it pretty well. How would I put it? You could say he's a nice gentleman," I deliver. A good chap. She doesn't reply and continues to stay mute.
"Blythe?" I call her again. "Yeah, I don't know why but I have a pretty bad feeling about this Xandro guy," she says quietly.
"Come on, Blee. You're overthinking this.
Just because he's Kaden's son it doesn't mean that he should not be good.
He's a nice guy. And that's it, chapter close.
Now can we get up? I think my spine is going to hurt a lot," I declare.
I should've leaned on the bed. She gets up rolling her eyes and turns to look at me.
"What? Get up!" She says annoyed. "Well, I'm down, can you lend me a hand or what?" I ask her stifling a smirk. She rolls her eyes once again but replies grinning, "I'm having some serious doubts. Are you a werewolf or what? Put aside Alpha King."
Laughing, I grab her extended hand to get up. "Well, do you want me to prove that I'm an Alpha King?" I ask her putting on my best smirk, she wouldn't be able to resist.
"Nope, thanks. I think I'll pass," she says resolvedly and turns to walk away.
Stilling her, I wrap my hands around her waist from the back.
Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, I run my nose along her neck, inhaling in an amazing mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. She turns in my arms, her lips on mine.
"Ah, I forgot to tell you something, you might want to know," I pull back instinctively.
She groans, "And you picked this moment?
" "Isn't it supposed to be the other way?
" I ask her, "You interrupting and me complaining?
" She rolls her eyes again.
"You roll your eyes too much," I remark.
"I can't help it when the Goddess blesses me with such brainless baboons around me," she calls out frustrated.
"Aw, come on, Blee. Anyways the thing is that to extend their pack borders the Rapscallion pack had petitioned, which has been approved by the officials.
So, Xandro is coming here in person to sign the agreement tomorrow.
If you want you can come with me to meet him," I offer.
She might get a chance to change her opinions about him after all.
"What do you say?" I prompt her again.
"Alpha, Luna," a guard bows curtly. "Alpha Xandro is here."
"Show him in," Rick nods.
Xandro walks in. His demeanor majestic and dominating. A friendly smile on his face. Messy copper hair on top of him. A five o'clock shadow on his flawless face. Sharp jaw and defined muscles screaming LETHAL.
"Your majesty," He politely nods at Rick in his deep voice. "Alpha Xandro Hale," he introduces with an extended hand. Taking his hand, "Maverick Devraux," Rick too nods curtly. "Luna," He turns to me.
I accept his hand, "Blythe Archer."
"What a pleasure to meet you both together?" He flashes a megawatt smile at both of us.
Rick smiles at him, "Definitely feeling the same here." I politely let go a small smile.
But why?
Why do I have a gut feeling that there's a hidden meaning in Xandro's greeting?
Why?