CHAPTER 31: TRAPPED

CHAPTER 31: TRAPPED
LEONA
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After leaving Alpha Zane's chambers, I decided to go help out in the kitchen. In the kitchen, Mrs. Marlowe assigned chores and the other maids stole sideways glances at me. Ever since Zane carried me back to my room, whispers had followed me like shadows. I tried my best to ignore them, but their judgment clung to me.
Today's task seemed simple enough: stock the pantry with supplies and sort through the storage room for anything expired or unusable. Mrs. Marlowe handed me a checklist and a basket. "Take your time," she said with a faint smile. "And be thorough."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, grateful for a task that kept me away from the others. Especially Liora.
Liora had made it her personal mission to make my life miserable. I didn't know if it was jealousy, hatred, or something else entirely, but her constant glares and thinly veiled insults were wearing me down.
The storage room was located in a secluded part of the palace, past the kitchens and down a narrow hallway. The air grew cooler as I approached, the scent of dried herbs and grains wafting through the heavy wooden door. I pushed it open and stepped inside, the dim lantern light casting long shadows across rows of shelves stocked with food supplies.
I worked methodically, checking items off the list and arranging everything neatly. It was quiet here, peaceful even, and for a while, I felt a strange sense of calm.
But that calm shattered when I heard the door creak.
I turned, expecting to see Mrs. Marlowe or one of the other maids. Instead, Liora stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smug smile on her face.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "Just checking on you," she mocked. "Wouldn't want our little special guest to mess up, would we?"
I ignored her and turned back to my work, hoping she'd lose interest and leave. But instead of retreating, she stepped inside, her footsteps deliberate.
"You know," she began, her voice casual, "you don't belong here. Do you think because Alpha Zane paid you some attention, you're one of us? That you're important?"
"I don't think anything," I said, focusing on the shelf in front of me.
"Liar," she snapped. "You're nothing but a pet project to him. A passing distraction. And when he's done with you, you'll wish you'd never stepped foot in this palace."
I stiffened but didn't reply. Giving her a reaction was exactly what she wanted.
Liora huffed, clearly irritated by my silence. "Fine," she said, turning on her heel. "Stay here and play your little games. But don't say I didn't warn you."
She left, slamming the door behind her. I flinched at the sound but shook it off, determined to finish my work.
It wasn't until I heard the distinct click of the lock that panic set in.
I rushed to the door, twisting the handle, but it didn't budge. "Liora!" I called, my voice echoing in the confined space. "Open the door!"
No response.
"Liora, this isn't funny!" I shouted, banging on the door. "Let me out!"
The only reply was silence.
I pressed my forehead against the cold wood, my heart pounding. The room was windowless, the only light coming from the faintly flickering lantern. The air felt heavier, the walls closer.
I forced myself to take a deep breath. Stay calm, I told myself. 'Someone will come. Mrs. Marlowe will notice I'm missing.'
But as the hours dragged on, my hope dwindled.
I searched the room for anything that could help—something to pick the lock, something to signal for help—but the storage room was stocked with food, not tools.
The hunger came first, gnawing at my stomach. Then the cold crept in, seeping into my bones. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stay warm, but it did little to help.
By nightfall, exhaustion had taken hold. I curled up on the floor, my body trembling, my thoughts a haze of fear and anger. Liora's face flashed in my mind, her smug smile mocking me even now.
'She'll pay for this,' I thought, but the resolve felt distant, like a faint echo.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I knew, the light was spilling into the room, and a soft gasp jolted me awake.
"Oh my goodness!" a young voice cried.
I blinked, disoriented, as a girl no older than fifteen knelt beside me. Her wide, frightened eyes darted around the room before settling on my face.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, my voice barely a rasp.
"Stay here," she said, scrambling to her feet. "I'll get Mrs. Marlowe!"
The door creaked open, and she disappeared, leaving me alone again.
Minutes later, hurried footsteps approached, and Mrs. Marlowe burst into the room. Her face was pale, her expression a mix of worry and anger.
"Leona," she said, kneeling beside me. "What happened?"
"I—" My voice cracked, and she quickly shushed me.
"Don't try to talk," she said. "You're freezing." She turned to the young maid who stood nervously by the door. "Fetch some blankets and water. Now!"
The girl nodded and ran off, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Mrs. Marlowe helped me sit up, her hands firm but gentle. "Who locked you in here?" she asked, her tone steely.
I hesitated, unsure if I should name Liora. Would Mrs. Marlowe even believe me?
Before I could answer, the room spun, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.
"Leona?" Mrs. Marlowe's voice sounded distant, her face blurring.
I tried to stay conscious, but the exhaustion and hunger were too much. Darkness claimed me once again.

—
When I woke again, I was no longer in the cold, dim storage room. The familiar scent of lavender and rosemary told me I was back in my quarters. The soft weight of a blanket pressed against my body, and the faint warmth of a fire crackled nearby.
My eyelids fluttered open, and the blurry image of Mrs. Marlowe came into view. She sat at my bedside, her sharp features drawn tight with worry.
"Good, you're awake," she said, relief softening her voice. "Don't try to move too quickly."
When I tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through my ribs, and I sank back into the pillows with a wince.
"Easy," Mrs. Marlowe said, gently pressing a hand to my shoulder to keep me down. "You've been through enough for one day."
Memories of the storage room flooded back—the cold, the hunger, the darkness. My throat felt raw, but I managed a raspy whisper. "How… how did I get here?"
"One of the younger maids found you this morning," Mrs. Marlowe replied, her voice tight with anger. "She alerted me immediately. You've been unconscious for hours."
I glanced at the tray beside the bed, laden with a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a plate of bread. The sight of food made my stomach clench painfully, reminding me of how long it had been since I'd eaten.
"You need to eat," Mrs. Marlowe said, noticing my gaze. "But slowly. I don't want you getting sick."
She helped me sit up, propping pillows behind me and handed me the bowl. My hands shook as I lifted the spoon to my lips. The warmth of the broth spread through me, easing the chill that still clung to my bones.
As I ate, Mrs. Marlowe's expression grew darker. "Leona," she began, her voice quiet but firm, "you need to tell me who locked you in that room."
My heart clenched. I hesitated, unsure if I should speak. Would accusing Liora only make things worse?
"Don't protect her," Mrs. Marlowe said, as if reading my mind. "I already have my suspicions, but I need to hear it from you."
I swallowed hard, the soup suddenly tasteless. "It was Liora," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mrs. Marlowe's lips thinned, her sharp eyes narrowing. "I knew it." She rose from the chair, her movements brisk and purposeful. "This ends now. Rest, Leona. You're safe here."