18. I won't apologize for that
My head feels like someone hit it with a hammer. When I try to sit up, everything spins so violently I have to close my eyes and wait for the world to stop tilting. The surface beneath me is soft-definitely not concrete. Where the hell am I?
"Easy there," a woman's voice says from somewhere to my left. "Don't move too fast."
I open my eyes slowly. The room is dimly lit by what looks like oil lamps, casting warm shadows that dance across stone walls. A young woman sits beside me, holding a steaming cup in her hands.
"Who are you?" I manage to croak out.
"Mera." She extends the cup toward me. "Drink this. It'll help with your head."
The liquid tastes like lemon and honey. I take a sip, then another. "Are you a doctor?"
"Something like that." She watches me, her eyes studying my face. "How do you feel? Dizzy? Nauseous?"
"Dizzy." I look around the room, taking in the carved stone walls that somehow feel cozy despite their roughness. "Where am I?"
"Underground. Safe." She pulls a small flashlight from her pocket and leans over me. "Can you look at me? I need to check your eyes."
I let her shine the light in my eyes, squinting against the brightness. "Underground where?"
"The den. It's where we live." She seems satisfied with whatever she sees and puts the light away. "How's your vision? Everything clear?"
"Yeah, just spinning a little." I try to sit up again, slower this time. The dizziness is less intense but still there. "We?"
"The pack. Most of us anyway." She refills my cup from a clay pitcher. "There are other places too, but this is the main one." She gestures vaguely toward what I assume are other rooms beyond the walls. "Kids, adults, elders. Pretty much everyone who lives in the territory."
I try to process this information. A whole underground community, hidden beneath the surface. "How big is this place?"
"Big enough. Tunnels go everywhere." She stands and moves to a shelf lined with bottles and jars of various sizes.
"How long was I out?"
"Few hours." She comes back with another small bottle, unscrewing the cap.
"You hit your head pretty hard when you went down, but nothing too serious.
" She puts some cream on her fingers, then carefully tries to apply it to my head.
It hurts, and I instinctively pull my head back, the movement only making the pain worse.
"Sorry, this will help with the swelling."
I want to ask what happened, how I got here, but something in her manner tells me she's not going to talk about that.
"Can you move your hands for me? Make fists?" she asks, positioning herself in front of me.
I do what she asks, making fists and then opening my hands. "You know about head injuries?"
"Enough." She doesn't elaborate, just checks my reflexes with a small hammer she produces from her pocket. "Any double vision? Nausea?"
"No. Just the dizziness."
"That's normal. Should be better in a day or two." She tests my reflexes again, tapping my knees. "Can you squeeze my hands? Both at the same time."
I grip her hands and squeeze. Before I can ask anything else, there's a sharp knock at the door. My stomach tightens automatically.
"Come in," Mera calls.
He enters, and I immediately press my lips together. Just looking at him makes me furious all over again.
"How is she?" he asks Mera, not looking at me directly.
"You can ask me," I say sharply. "I'm awake."
His eyes shift to mine briefly, then away again. "Concussed but she'll be fine," Mera answers. "Give it a day or two."
"Good." He finally meets my eyes properly, and we both fall silent. My hands want to hit something.
I think I'm done with communicating. It hasn't led to anything other than being lied to constantly-by wolves and humans alike.
Before I can tell him to get the hell out, he walks over to me. I watch him approach, my whole body tensing. He stops right in front of the stretcher where I'm sitting.
If he thinks just coming in here and asking how I am will fix anything, he's wrong. I turn my head to the side, focusing on the stone wall instead of his face.
Why is he even trying? Why didn't he just leave me in the control center? Why did he bring me here at all? Why didn't he just kill me when his plan worked out perfectly? Wait. I actually don't know-did it work out perfectly?
Mera clears her throat. "I should check on other patients."
Neither of us says anything. The door opens and closes again, leaving us alone. I don't know what he's trying to do here. It's obvious there's absolutely no respect between us. It's also very obvious that he doesn't think I deserve the truth, that I'm beneath him.
Fuck that.
"The pack needs-" he stops mid-sentence, then starts again. "I had to make a choice."
"I don't care," I say, and I mean it. If I'm able to get out of here alive, I just want to hug my aunt.
They win-he and Miller both win. I don't believe communicating can change anything anymore. Everyone just wants what's best for their own interests. I just want to get out of here.
If he lets you go.
"The woman who interrogated you-her name is Senna Miller," he tries to start again, emphasizing his words, trying to catch my gaze.
Nope. Don't care. She could be the daughter of a tree and I still wouldn't care.
I try to stand up, but his body isn't leaving me any space to move. Now I'm standing and he's still in front of me, blocking my path. My head is pounding like someone is hitting it over and over again.
"You should lay down," his tone sounds worried but I don't look at him. Instead, I focus on the door. My escape route.
When I try to move toward it, he steps to the side, blocking my path.
"You shouldn't walk right now. Lay down." This sounds more like a command than a suggestion, just like everything else he says.
I just stand still, not laying down, staring at the door. My head is still pounding, but if he wants me to lay down, he's going to have to make me.
"Look at me," he says, but I don't.
"Communicator," he tries again. But I don't. I just keep focusing on that door.
"Alara."
I turn my head further away.
"I know you're angry," he says.
I still don't lay down. "You don't know anything."
"Please lay down."
That single word makes something inside me snap. I finally look at him. "You used me. You lied to me. You got what you wanted." I lean forward, closer to his face.
"I had to make a choice," he says again, his voice getting harder. "Your safety or my people's lives."
"And you chose your people."
"Every time." He meets my eyes directly, unflinching. "I won't apologize for that."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to stop pretending you give a damn about me."
I need to go now. I can't to this anymore.
But as I lean forward to take the first step, my world tilts violently. A wave of nausea hits me so hard I have to grab onto his arm to keep from falling. The room spins, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to vomit.
"Shit," I whisper, gripping his forearm tighter.
Before I can protest, his arms are around me, lifting me easily. "I've got you."
"Put me down," I manage, but the words come out weak. The movement makes everything worse-the spinning, the nausea, the pounding in my skull.
He lifts me back onto the stretcher, setting me down gently. "You're not going anywhere like this."
I want to argue, but another wave of dizziness washes over me, and I have to lie back down. "I wan to leave," I whisper.
"I know." He pulls the blanket up over me, his touch surprisingly gentle. "But first rest."