Page 43 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
I bolt from the dining room, hot tears mixing with the searing pain on my skin. Their stares are like arrows pointing at me, blaming me for the tragedy I never meant to cause.
My feet pound against the cold floor, leading me back to the bedroom, but the door is locked.
Panic swirls in my chest, a cyclone of fear and regret.
Turning, I go to the only other place I know, the communal bathrooms. I push the door open, the cold metal handle biting into my skin, and I’m met with the silence of the room.
White tiles gleaming under the overhead lights offer no comfort, yet finding no one here does offer some relief.
My reflection in the mirror is a stranger, eyes red and swollen, skin marred by the soup, and blisters covering one side of my face which copped the brunt of her attack.
The shower’s cold water is a brief relief.
Each drop feels like tiny icy fingers, pulling away the heat of my burns, the heat of my shame as I push my head under the stream.
The door swings open, a sinister creak announcing another presence. At first, I think it is Dion and I spin around, water dripping from my hair.
“I’m fine,” I stutter. It’s not Dion’s face that meets my gaze, but Annabelle’s. Her eyes are red and puffy, echoing my own.
She steps closer, her voice a poisoned dagger. “You’ve never been fine, Emery. You’re a curse.”
“No! I didn’t mean to hurt you, Annabelle. Please believe me.” My voice is a ragged sob of desperation, only to be swallowed up by her seething rage.
“Liar!”
“Please, you have to believe me!” I tell her.
Annabelle’s laughter echoes ominously in the cold silence of the bathroom. My breath hitches; each cackle sends icy spikes of terror down my spine.
“Just like your parents! A sick, vile monster!” she spits the words at me with venom I can almost feel.
“No. I didn’t mean to get anyone hurt,” I plead, but deep down, a sinking feeling tells me my words are falling on deaf ears. The anger in Annabelle’s eyes, a dark storm of hatred, shows no mercy.
“I knew you would be trouble,” she continues.
“Just like your bitch sister coming up here begging for help. Dion was foolish for trusting her, just as he is a fool to trust you. I’ve watched enough people die because of your family.”
Every word is a dagger, and I feel them cut into me. Each accusation is deeper than the last, but I cannot allow her words to hold me back. My survival instinct kicks in, stronger than the encroaching fear.
As Annabelle lunges at me, I dodge, the adrenaline rush propelling me backward into the stall. I slam the door shut on Annabelle’s arm. A scream, shrill and filled with agony, fills the air.
Her arm, mangled and broken, becomes even more twisted as she pushes the door inward and pulls herself free.
Panic surges through me; I can see the undiluted rage in her eyes.
I try to slam it shut again, but Annabelle is relentless.
She kicks it inward with a force that sends shockwaves of pain across my face.
Stumbling back dazed, the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. In a blur, Annabelle’s claws come swiping at my face. I duck, narrowly avoiding her attack, my heart racing a mile a minute.
We fight, our bodies sliding on the tile floor as we fight for control. Grunts of exertion echo around us as we struggle in desperation until, with one final surge of strength, I push her away, and she stumbles back, her head smacking against the sink with an awful thud.
She slumps to the ground, and all is still except for her heavy breathing as blood starts pooling around her. My eyes widen, and I rush over to her, my hand grabbing her head to find a piece of the basin embedded in her skull.
“No! No… Annabelle?” I panic tapping her face, yet her breathing slows dramatically as more blood pools around her, coating my knees and the floor, her body turning cold in my hands.
I’ve killed someone else, only this time directly. I muffle the sob that tries to escape me, they won’t forgive me now.
I tried to figure out what to do, because there is no hiding this mess, no escaping Dion and the pack’s wrath, so I run. However, instead of running for the garage like last time, I ran for the road Dion raced me to the night he attempted to mark me, knowing the road is my only hope.
My feet pound against the ground.
Above, the moon filters through the dense canopy of trees. The forest is alive with sounds–the rustling of leaves, the distant hooting of owls–but they’re all drowned out by the noise of my panicked breathing.
I want to go home.
Tears stream down my face, mingling with the sweat and grime.
Suddenly, a loud roar pierces the night, its echo of Dion chasing me, pushing me to run faster and harder. My foot catches on a root, and the world tilts as I fall. I tumble down a ravine until I crash into the unforgiving ground below.
Every inch of my body screams in agony, but the terror is louder and stronger. I pull myself up; I have to keep going.
That’s when I see it—a car. Salvation. I stumble toward it, arms flailing, voice hoarse from the screams and sobs.
The car pulls over, and the driver, a man with wide, startled eyes, stammers, “What in the world are you doing out here, girlie?” Relief crashes over me. He’s human.
He notices the burns, the pain that’s written all over my face. His gasp is audible, but there’s no time to explain.
“Go! Please? Take me to…” My voice falters. Where do I need to go? Safety seems like a distant, elusive dream, and what do I say to a human? Do humans talk to our kind? It takes me a few seconds to remember they don’t have Alphas. “The police,” I blurt out. “Someone kidnapped me and is chasing me.”
“Please!” The desperation in my voice echoes the terror clutching my soul. He starts the car, and as it lurches forward, a modicum of safety wraps around me. I ask for his phone, dialing the familiar number with trembling fingers.
“Grandma?” My voice breaks, unleashing a torrent of sobs.
I tell her to pack, tell her I’m on my way.
I’ve escaped him. The promise to Caleb echoes in my mind—I kept it.
“I escaped Dion.” I whimpered, though really it wasn’t him I needed to escape from, but his pack.
He’s not been so bad recently, but I know I would never survive his pack’s hate.
The car jolts. I snap my head at the driver. “Sorry, I thought I recognized…” His voice trails off. A shiver of unease trickles down my spine, but he brushes it off, blaming it on a deer.
We drive in silence until the familiar landscape outside unnerves me. Haven’t we passed that sign before? Panic stirs. “How far is the police station?” Anxiety makes my voice shrill.
The car slows. The driver’s face, once a symbol of rescue, now twists with an ominous regret. “I’m sorry, but I know better than to cross Alpha Dion,” he confesses.
“But you’re human?” He looks at me funny, like he doesn’t understand why that matters.
Panic is pure, unfiltered terror. The car stops. In the chilling silence of the night, every fear is realized as Dion steps out of the trees. His eyes, cold as ice, lock onto mine.
“No! No!” The scream rips from my lungs, raw and primal. The door ripped open, and the night air is a cold slap against my terrorized skin. I run—but it’s futile.
In seconds, I’m tackled.
Almost a week here, it starts to twist your mind, in every direction, all I know is darkness. Darkness meeting only silence is enough to drive one mad, and I believe that is Dion’s intention.
Tossing and turning the spine, tingling screams, and the scent of blood invade my memory. The look on my mother’s face when she knew she would die is forever etched into my memory like the scars that lace my skin.
His handsome face enters the dream next, and his taunting smirk haunts me. The ghosts of a past I wish weren’t mine replay in my nightmares and have done so every night since I’ve been here.
As memories assault my mind, a cold shudder snaps me back to reality. I’m breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat coating me. When the cold air brushes over me, I shiver violently. I killed someone, so I deserve to be here rotting in the dungeons.
The clang of the chains that shackle my ankles and wrists reminds me of where I am, no longer stuck in my dreams but now in a waking nightmare. One I see no way out of now.
Catching my breath, I groan as I blink around the dark basement.
I’ve spent days on this unforgiving floor, and it seems to be Dion’s favorite way to punish me.
He knows I hate the dark, he knows I hate the chains, but now I’ve added a new fear to that never-ending list. I hate the silence.
The way your own mind’s chatter eats away at you.
My mind has been relentless, all-consuming.
I can’t stop thinking about Annabelle, my parents, and Dion.
The way things spiraled out of control so quickly. I just wanted out of that room, and now I find myself in another room, blamed with murder; no matter how much I screamed, it was self-defense. He didn’t believe me; he believed I was planning to escape and that Annabelle was collateral damage.
He claims he ordered her to stay away from me. But he can’t control her running into me.