Page 48 of Alpha's Revenge Luna

TWO DAYS LATER

My body aches from the burns covering my flesh, the pain is a reminder of why I’m being punished.

A punishment that was without intention on my part.

Yet still a punishable action in Dion’s eyes.

It’s been three days since I was let out of the cells, and the fear that grips me every time I think about stepping out into this room is suffocating.

I can see it in Dion’s eyes too – the conflict within him.

He doesn’t want to heal me, afraid of angering his pack even further. And yet, the torment on his face when he sees me in pain is unmistakable. I’ve even heard him arguing with Deacon, his wolf, when he accidentally speaks out loud instead of in his head.

“Emery, wake up. I need to work, I can’t keep hiding in this room with you,” Dion tells me.

“Then go,” I tell him, rolling over in bed. Dion growls at my reluctance to get out of bed. “You can’t stay in here forever,” Dion says softly, standing at the edge of the bed. He reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away.

“Please, Dion. Just let me stay here.” I whisper, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his black hair. His burning amber eyes meet mine, filled with frustration and something akin to regret.

“Emery, I have to go to work. That means you have to come with me,” Dion says firmly, with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

Just the thought of leaving this room, facing the pack that bears hatred toward me for what I’ve done, is enough to make my heart race in fear.

Panic rises within me, and I look around the room desperately for anything that could help me avoid facing them.

My eyes land on the chain attached to the bed, then the ankle cuff.

I hate being confined, but I would rather that than face his pack.

“Please, Dion,” I beg, picking up the chain and holding it out to him. “Let me stay here.”

He looks at the chain, then back at me, his expression softening slightly. “You hate being restrained,” he comments, before sighing heavily. I can see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes, torn between wanting to protect me and appeasing his pack.

“Please,” I whisper again, tears filling my eyes as I hold up the ankle cuff.

“Fine,” he relents, taking the cuff from me and securing it around my ankle.

“I’ll have Tara bring you up breakfast and lunch.” With that, he exits the room, leaving me alone once more.

The thought of staying safely tucked away in this room brings me a small sense of comfort, even though I know Dion is right.

As soon as Dion is gone, I crawl back into bed, curling up beneath the covers.

Throughout the day, boredom and hunger gnaw at me relentlessly.

My guilt weighs heavy on my mind, adding to the pit of despair growing inside me.

Tara never brings any food, and I can’t bring myself to knock on the door and ask the guard.

The fear of him opening the door and hurting me keeps me silent.

Later that day.

As the hours drag by, agonizing cramps grip my abdomen, sending waves of pain throughout my body. I curl up tighter under the blankets, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.

Instead, the ache caused by the Belladonna withdrawals intensifies as if taunting me. The pain is unbearable, both physical and emotional.

My breaths come in short, shallow gasps as I try to ride out the torment. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to focus on anything apart from the relentless agony coursing through me.

The sound of the door creaking open sends a jolt of energy through me, my heartbeat quickening in anticipation.

I’ve never craved someone’s presence as much as I do now, and the thought both terrifies and embarrasses me.

I push myself up on shaky arms, watching Dion step into the room with an unreadable expression.

“Emery,” he breathes out, his eyes taking in my disheveled appearance. I must look pathetic, a complete mess from hours spent alone in this room squirming in bed. But all I can think about is how desperately I need him close, just so it stops for a moment, so I can catch my breath.

He hesitates at the door for a moment as I move to the edge of the bed. He then strides over to me, his strong hands deftly undoing the ankle cuff that has kept me tethered to the bed.

“Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to contain my relief as I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. His scent envelops me, washing away the suffocating loneliness that had threatened to consume me mere moments ago.

“Emery,” Dion says firmly, attempting to pull away from my embrace. “I can’t stay. I have work to do, I was just checking on you.”

“Please, don’t go,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, feeling a deep flush rise to my cheeks.

“You can work here,” I plead, my voice shaking as I clutch at his shirt.

He studies me for a long moment, something akin to concern flickering in his eyes. Eventually, he looks at his wristwatch and sighs but nods. “Alright, Emery. I’ll work in the room, it’s nearly dinner time, anyway.”

I can’t help but smile as Dion settles down at the small desk in the corner, pulling out his laptop and various documents, when his phone rings.

I curl up on the bed, watching him as he works, basking in the comfort his mere presence brings.

A man I despise yet the only person I have here who doesn’t want to kill me.

It’s a cruel reminder of the life I’ve been thrust into, one where freedom seems like a distant dream, while another part of me wonders what freedom is even out there without a family to go home to.

Sure, I have my brother and grandmother, but I’d be just another burden on her too; another mouth to feed.

And I know that the money I gave her from Dad’s safe is all she has and won’t last long.

Dion, finishing a phone call, glances up from his work, his eyes meeting mine. “So, what did you do all day?” he asks, his voice curious and concerned.

“Sleep,” I reply honestly, feeling the weight of my exhaustion press down on me. “I was really tired.”

“Did Tara come by? She was supposed to bring you breakfast and lunch,” he inquires further, raising an eyebrow.

My stomach clenches at the mention of food, but I can’t bear to betray Tara by snitching or risk creating more animosity between us.

I hesitate momentarily, then nod, offering him a half-hearted smile.

“She did, yeah,” I lie, silently pleading with myself not to give anything away.

He watches me for a second when his phone rings again. He glances at it.

“Good,” Dion says, answering the call. He returns his attention to his laptop and seems to be reading some charts to whoever is on the other end of his call. I let out a silent breath, relieved he had bought my lie.

As he continues to work, I climb off the bed. I hesitantly approach him as he works at his desk.

“Can... can I sit with you?” My voice trembles slightly as I speak, fearing his rejection. “Could you grab me a drink from the fridge?” he asks, and I nod, ignoring the fact he didn’t answer my question.

I make my way to the small fridge hidden in the wall, retrieving a bottle of water before returning to his side.

“Thank you,” he mutters, taking the bottle from me and setting it on the desk. He sighs, pushing his chair out when I remain where I am, wondering what he is doing. I climb onto his lap. Dion’s fingers move across the keyboard, his attention focused on logging into the council portal.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, leaning in to get a better look at the screen. In doing so, my elbow connects with the water bottle, knocking it over and sending its contents spilling onto the laptop.

“Damn it, Emery!” Dion snaps, shoving me off his lap as he scrambles to dry the device. I stammer out an apology, but it only seemed to fuel his anger.

“You’re being so clingy, like a bitch in heat!” he spits, his gaze drilling into me.

His words slice through me like a knife, leaving me feeling humiliated.

The hurt swirls inside me, mingling with the ever-present pain from the burns that mars my body.

I grab a towel from the basket and try to help mop up the water with it, but he snatches it from me.

“Just get away from me,” he snaps, and I take a step back from him.

He picks up the ruined papers and growls.

Leaving him to clean the mess I made, I move to the bathroom and run a bath, knowing the cool water will ease the sting of the carpet burn I just received from being shoved off his lap.

Filling the tub, I turn, shutting the door where I can hear him muttering under his breath about my clumsiness.

Shaking his words off, I climb into the tub.

A few minutes later, the sound of the bathroom door creaking startles me, and I peer over the side of the bathtub to see Dion’s tall figure silhouette in the bedroom. Guilt gnaws at me as he steps into the room.

“Did I break it?” I ask, wondering. He doesn’t answer; instead, he steps further into the room so I don’t have to crane my neck to see him.

“Emery, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier,” he began, his voice softer than before. He leans against the tiled wall, arms folded over his broad chest. “But you can’t be clinging to me while I’m working.”

His words sting, but I understand, so I nod, my body sinking lower into the bath.

Dion sighs, running a hand through his short black hair. “Just, hurry up and finish bathing. We have to go down for dinner with the pack.”

The mere thought of facing the pack makes my stomach churn. “I don’t want to go,” I admit, gripping the tub’s edge.

He shakes his head. “Fine,” he relents, pushing off from the wall. “I’ll send someone up with your food.”

“Can’t you just bring dinner up when you return?” I suggest.