Page 32 of Claimed By the Rival Alpha

“I found you some clothes.” She held out a pair of jeans and a blue plaid blouse. “There are a few more clothes for you in the dressers and closet in your room.”

I left the pillow at the dining table to eagerly accept the clothes, and Violet let me use the restroom to change.

It was amazing what having clothes that actually fit did for my mental state.

I’d been on a rotation of Night’s baggy shirts and pants for days and had begun to think of myself as more of a clothes hanger than a woman.

Violet explained the finer details of the house, such as where the cleaning equipment, spices, and books were kept, before she led me through the back door.

My eyes lit up as I saw the garden out back.

It wasn’t as large as the one that Mom and I worked on, but it was around an acre of land with plenty of crops to work on and love.

But the excitement I felt was tinged with more pain. What would Mom have thought of the space, of the house? What would she have said?

“Bryn?” Violet came around to look into my face. “I’d hoped the garden would make you happy, but you seem so sad.”

“It reminds me of my mom,” I muttered, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. “It reminds me of the garden we tended. It was the only thing I really, truly enjoyed about living in the Kings’ pack. But now it’s…it’s hundreds of miles away.”

“Oh, honey.” Violet teared up a bit herself, which surprised me. She took my shoulders and gave me a smile. “I wanted to let you know that you’re free to work in the garden whenever you like. We really could use an extra pair of hands tending to the crops. Would you like that?”

I nodded. I would like that a lot. Working in the garden would not only be a wonderful way to pass the time, but it might also make it easier for me to escape.

Just as I had that thought, Violet said, “But there’s something else you should know.” She pointed to the tree line.

At first, I didn’t see anything. But as I continued to stare, I realized with a chill that there were two wolves hidden among the trees. They looked familiar, somehow.

“Those sentries will be around twenty-four-seven,” Violet explained. “They’ll let Night know when you’ve tried to escape, and Night will be able to catch you and bring you back within minutes.”

As Violet spoke, I remembered where I’d seen the wolves before. They were the ones I’d seen standing outside my window when I was first locked in Night’s cabin. No wonder they hadn’t helped me when they saw my window message.

“Anyway,” Violet went on, “it’s far, far better to let fate play its hand than to waste your energy trying to fight it.”

I had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, but there was something comforting about it.

The words themselves were not reassuring, but Mom had often used vague, cryptic messages when she talked to me too.

I tried to keep the tears at bay, but everything about Violet, the garden, and the cabin made me miss Mom so much it hurt to breathe.

“Let’s get you back inside, girlie,” Violet suggested, seeing my discomfort.

I went back into the house without a fight. I suddenly felt drained, both emotionally and physically—I had no energy left to think of a possible escape plan.

After I set my pillow on the bed, I helped Violet take care of the dishes from breakfast. We ate lunch together, and dinner, and finally, as the sky turned the rich, dark blue of night, we sat next to the fireplace.

After the garden, the rest of the day had passed by without my having to pay much attention. I was still thinking of my mom.

Eventually, I felt something warm drape across my shoulders.

I looked around in the firelight and found that Violet had covered me with a pink and blue knitted throw.

Violet settled down at my side and offered a cup of hot lavender and chamomile tea.

I accepted it and took a deep sip. To my surprise, Violet had sweetened it with honey.

That bit of kindness was all it took to push me over the edge.

As I lowered the cup, tears filled my eyes and slipped down my cheeks.

I hated being Night’s prisoner because it meant I wasn’t free, but had I ever known true freedom?

In the Kings’ pack, I had been ignored, belittled, and underappreciated.

I hadn’t known a day of peace living under the thumbs of the Terrible T’s and Troy.

My home was never my home, but at least my mom had been there to take care of me when I was hurt or lonely or scared.

I had been so confident that I’d be able to escape and live on my own with the humans, but now that I was forced to be away from Mom, that no longer seemed true. How could I have ever thought that I’d survive?

Violet’s constant presence while I cried was nice, but it didn’t quiet my sadness. In fact, I felt even more out of place sitting in the middle of Violet’s floor, sobbing my eyes dry than I had ever felt with the Kings.

After another hour, Violet lit a candle and led me to my bedroom. The candle was more for my benefit than Violet’s, as she could see easily in the dark. It was more thoughtfulness than I was used to from anyone other than my mom.

Inside the room, I flopped onto the bed and pulled the pillow close.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” Violet said gently. “And I mean anything, even if it’s just to talk, okay?”

I didn’t respond.

Violet gave me a smile. “Get some sleep, girlie. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to spend the sunrise in the garden. Maybe the world will look different for you in a new light.”

Again, I remained quiet.

“Alright, honey, I’ll see you in the morning.” She left the lit candle on the nightstand and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I turned on my side toward the window and held the pillow tight against my chest. I had no idea how much longer I would be a prisoner here.

For all I knew, I would die in this house.

Violet had said she wanted me to feel at home here, but how could I when I was surrounded by enemies and strangers?

How could I see the world in a new light when my future looked so bleak?

I bit my lip as more tears poured down my cheeks.

Clutching the pillow more tightly, I buried my face into it.

Alone in the room, with a hint of Night’s scent in the pillow, I could admit to myself that the tears I shed now were different from any I’d shed before.

This time, I wasn’t crying because I missed my mom or because I was a prisoner. These tears were from loneliness.

I knew now that I would never truly belong anywhere—I would never have a home.