Page 39 of The Alpha’s Seer (The Shifters of Stormhollow #1)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

BLAIR

“Leon?” I stare at my brother, who cocks his head at an unnatural angle, still grinning at me.

He looks thinner, and his eyes… I can’t help but shudder. They’re bloodshot and raw, his pupils dominating the whites of his eyes like a demon.

“Blair,” he rasps, crouching before me. “You look like shit.”

This…thing—it isn’t my brother.

“What happened to you?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.

Leon scoffs. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, the golden girl. That’s all that matters.”

I realize that he sounds pissed

“Golden girl?” I press, and his features twist into a scowl.

“You,” he spits. “The Seer. The one with the gifts. Have you got a wolf too?”

He glares at me, and I slowly shake my head.

“No, Leon—”

“Shut up!” He grips my chin, forcing my mouth shut as he continues to glare at me. “Tell them what they want to know, and then you can die.”

My heart shatters at the words leaving his lips. Whatever he is…he used to be my brother. The one who always tried to protect me.

“You want me to die?” I whimper, unable to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks.

He nods and grins. “I do. I wish they’d let me take your life right now, but they have uses for you.”

I swallow hard, and he shoves my chin away.

“This isn’t you, Leon.” I try to appeal to his humanity, not knowing what he is anymore. “You and me…we are all we have.”

But you have Calix, I hear Azra tell me in my mind.

Leon’s eyes glitter with rage. “You are a hindrance. A pain in my ass. I hoped you’d leave this town and me behind, but no. You had to stay. Didn’t you?”

“I—”

“You let me become an alcoholic.”

I gasp. “Leon!”

“You blamed me for our parents’ death. You let me blame myself.”

I’m sobbing now. “That’s not true! I never blamed you! I couldn’t stop your drinking.”

“You didn’t even try.” Leon sneers at me. “Our parents were killed, and we did nothing.”

“We were kids!” I scream, tears blinding my vision. My chest aches beneath the weight of his accusations, and I yank against my restraints. “None of it was our fault!”

“We hid like cowards while they were butchered.”

I close my eyes and try to ignore him, but he continues.

“Our mother was a whore.”

Don’t listen to him.

Azra!

He’s trying to make you weak. Be strong.

“Our father didn’t even try to protect her. Useless coward.”

Leon would never speak about our father this way. He worshipped him—we both did.

Tears sting my raw skin, my breathing ragged as I attempt to take deep breaths.

“They died because of us.”

“No!”

Stay strong, Blair.

I cling to Azra’s words, but they’re nothing compared to his. He continues to throw them at me, each one sinking into my skin like poisoned fangs, sucking my life from me.

“And now look at you.” Leon sighs. “A prisoner.”

I lift my head and stare at him through blurry eyes, my chest heaving.

“You’re not my brother. My brother would never say those things.”

Leon’s eyes flicker with something that gives me a spark of hope; panic, maybe?

Guilt?

I continue. “My brother would have died fighting these bastards; he never would’ve hurt Calix. He would never hurt me. You’re not my brother. You’re weak. Leon was strong.”

“Leon was a useless drunk!” he roars, slamming me against the wall, his hands around my throat. “He was dying every day, drinking himself into oblivion!”

His fingers tighten around my throat, but I feel no fear. Maybe it’s blind stupidity, but I’m convinced he won’t hurt me. He glares at me, spittle flying from his mouth as he continues. “He hated you. I hate you!”

I manage to laugh, because this much I know isn’t true. “My brother loves me, and I love him, and nothing you can do or say will change that. So kill me if you want to, but you’re not my brother.” I reach up to pry his fingers from my throat, both of us glaring at one another in desperation.

“I could kill you right now,” Leon rasps, tightening his grip on me.

I manage to pull his fingers away, gasping at the air streaming into my lungs.

“But he needs you.” Leon spits into the darkness before he throws me against the wall.

I wince as pain splinters through my back. I cough and hold my throat, wincing when he leans down once more.

“Your brother is dead, Seer. Now all you’ve got is me.”

Then he draws his leg back, kicking me hard in the stomach. I lift my knees and try to protect myself, but it’s no use; he manages to hurt me no matter where his boot lands.

I try to take myself away, to remember the good times with Calix, but it only makes me sob harder.

The thought of what Calix’s arms feel like around me, his words mumbled into my ear like a caress, the way his body heated mine.

A part of me wishes he were here now, but I wouldn’t wish that on him or anyone else.

If he were here, though, he’d rip Leon apart limb from limb, and he’s still my brother, even if only in physical form.

“Please,” I beg as his boot slams against my bruised ribs. “Please!”

“Beg all you want, Seer.” Leon pants as he leans down, grabbing a handful of my hair. “But all he needs is your sight. Your visions. You don’t need to be in perfect physical condition to do that. You don’t even need to see. Maybe I should blind you.”

Bile rises in my throat as his boot moves to my face, and even Azra’s silent screams can do nothing to save me from the darkness surrounding me.

I try to fight, but when his foot hits my cheekbone, I hear a crack, and a burst of white-hot pain explodes across my face and eye, making me scream so loud it burns.

I have no option but to give in to the pain.

I stop fighting and allow the darkness to take me.

I’ve lost track of time.

The room I’m in has no windows, so I’ve no idea if it’s night or day. My ‘meals’ arrive randomly, and there’s no differentiating between them. They’re always the same disgusting shit: lukewarm soup and moldy bread I force myself to eat so I have strength in case I get a chance to escape.

I laugh bitterly. That’s not likely considering the fact I’m chained up. I’m their prisoner, just as they want me.

My ribs are in agony, and I can barely move. My left eye has swollen shut thanks to my brother, and I think my cheekbone is shattered. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’d kill for some painkillers.

Fat chance of that here.

Thankfully, I haven’t had any visions. The woman, Azra, keeps talking to me, passing messages on from Calix’s mother, which I find comforting.

Willow tells me Calix will never give up, that when he can, he’ll save us.

That I need to concentrate on reaching him through my mind-link.

But this is confusing, and I tell her as much.

Why can’t you mind-link Calix?

There’s a sad pause, and my heart sinks when the message comes back.

Willow said it’s because we are too weak without our wolves.

My eyes widen. You don’t have your wolves?!

Another heavy pause.

No.

My heart spasms with pain for them, knowing how close humans are to their wolves. The thought of Calix being apart from his wolf makes me want to weep. These poor women. They must feel so…alone. At least I can mind-link without a wolf.

I’m sorry. Will they come back?

I don’t know enough about wolves to know if they can come back, but Azra replies instantly.

We don’t know. He gave us something that made them…leave us. We can’t hear them anymore.

I can sense her sadness in her words, and my heart breaks before anger sweeps in.

Why the fuck is this happening?

Why?

I kick out in frustration, wishing someone would answer me. I hate the burned man more than anything. He dangles information before me and then leaves me more confused than before.

Think, Blair!

But I can’t. Between my injuries and lack of energy, I’m practically useless.

I feel like a vessel, albeit one without visions.

How long will they give me until I see something?

Will they tire of me and send me to the other women?

The thought sickens me. I hear the cries and protests of the other women through the mind-link when Azra talks to me, and it’s soul-destroying.

And as it always does, my mind drifts to Calix.

It’s thinking of him that keeps me alive because I think he’s still alive too.

If he wasn’t, I feel like I’d know somehow.

But I still have hope, and I have to cling to that.

I haven’t seen the burned man since Leon came in, and the man bringing my food barely looks at me.

Is Calix looking for me?

He has to be.

Calix won’t let me go. He’ll look for me until he finds me; of that much I’m sure. But I have to remember he’s searched for his mother for years too. He loves her as much as he loves me, if not more. Panic strikes at the thought.

What if he never finds me? What if this is where I die?

I swallow and lift my fingers to my eye, feeling the spongy flesh hopelessly. The swelling isn’t easing off. Maybe I’ll lose my eye.

Too many what-ifs swim through my mind, and I try to cling to the thought of Calix swooping in and saving me. Saving all of us.

Until then, though, I need to think. I shove the pain as far away as I can and take deep breaths until it returns, reminding me I’m not doing well.

I grit my teeth and force myself to think.

The facts are: my mother was a werewolf.

So was my aunt. My mother was taken and imprisoned for two years by a cold-hearted Alpha.

No one knows what happened to her. She came back and met my father, a human.

She had Leon, then me. Then there was the accident—no—the attack.

Call it what it is: a fucking vicious attack.

Then my mind draws a blank. I run through it all again, forcing myself to piece something together.

Why would the burned man hate me? He blames my family, my mother. Why? He knows her but doesn’t know her; what he knows he hates.

Think, Blair!

My brain moves like a stick in sludge, though, and I want to weep. I can’t think—I don’t understand why the burned man hates me and my mother so much. And then there’s Leon…

What did he do to him?

Probably what he did to the boys who attacked me.

To Billy Marshall.

I stiffen. Billy Marshall was always a nice guy—until he wasn’t. So, is that what happened to my brother? Did the burned man change him? How?

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Then he’s doomed. He’s evil, he’s—

Still my brother.

The man who attacked me isn’t my brother—he’s just using him. He told me my brother died, but what if he’s still in there?

What if I can save him?

I’m out of my depth. I don’t know enough about werewolves and magic to understand any of this—but damn, I have to try.

I need the burned man to talk to me.

Then, like I’d summoned him, the door to my cell swings open and in he comes.

The burned man.

He whistles and grins, taking in my appearance as I steady myself, licking my lips so I can speak.

“What is your name?” I ask, and his grin fades.

“Why?”

“Because I want to refer to you as something other than my torturer.”

This makes him laugh, a deep-bellied laugh that makes his body shake. I’m glad I amuse him. I want to know who he is, and I’m sure he wants to tell me.

“Faolan.”