Chapter 25 Chapter 25
Anya’s POV
I stared at him, my heart beating so fast. No, I can't tell him. I couldn't accuse Beatrice.
That woman was high-ranking, powerful, and cruel. She had already broken Carla; I couldn't imagine what she would do if I named her to the Alpha.
Oh, gods, Carla. I had to stay quiet. I had to heal. And then, I had to find a way to get us both out of this hell.
I shook my head, feigning confusion at his question, and let out a long, shaky sigh. My mind was screaming Carla's name. I grabbed his hand again, my touch frantic, and wrote:
C-A-R-L-A
His brow furrowed. "Who's Carla?" he asked, his voice flat.
Of course. I thought, my hope deflating. He's an Alpha. He doesn't even know his own servants' names.
I let my hand fall, but to my surprise, he didn't let go of my other hand. His grip tightened, and he used it to pull me slightly closer to him on the bed.
He stared at my face, his gaze intense, his eyes dropping to my bruised lips, then to my throat, which I was sure was already darkening with bruises.
"Your pain," he said, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "It's... loud. If you're hurting... let me ease it for you."
Before I could process his words, he leaned in. He didn't kiss me. Not yet. His free hand came up, his thumb brushing over the swollen, stinging mark on my cheek where Beatrice had struck me.
A strange, cool tingle spread from his touch, and the throbbing, fiery pain... faded.
I gasped, my eyes wide. The relief was so sudden it was dizzying. His gaze dropped to my mouth.
And he kissed me.
His tongue swept into my mouth, insistent, demanding, tasting me as if he owned me.
I tried to fight it, to turn my head, but he was too strong, his hand moving to cradle the back of my head, holding me captive for his plunder.
The pain in my throat was still there, a burning agony, but something about the raw energy of the kiss, the very force of his will, seemed to torch a spark deep inside. A sound. A word.
"S-Stop..." I breathed, the sound torn from my throat, my voice miraculously, painfully, back.
He pulled back, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face. His gaze was fixed on my mouth.
"See?" he purred, and he intentionally licked his lower lip, as if tasting the last of our kiss. "Your voice is back."
I scowled at him, my brow furrowing in anger.
He just chuckled, a low, deep sound, and leaned in again, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Oh, is my little kitty angry with me now?" he mocked, his voice a soft taunt. "I'm so scared."
I leaned back, my shoulders hitting the headboard, desperate to keep any distance between us. His face was too close, his presence too suffocating.
His amusement vanished, replaced by a cold darkness. He whispered, "Now. Tell me who did this to you. I want a name."
I shook my head, my raw throat aching. "I can't tell you."
"You're lying to me," he stated, his voice flat. His hand came up, his long index finger tracing a path from my bruised shoulder, up the sensitive column of my neck, to my chin.
He lifted my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.
I slapped his hand away. "I'm not lying!"
"No?" His eyes narrowed. "Then you're protecting them. You're protecting the person who tried to strangle you?"
"No!" I cried, the word tearing from my throat.
"Then what, precisely, are you doing?" he hissed, leaning in so close I could feel the heat radiating from him. "Because if you lie to me—if you protect them—they will only do it again. And again."
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "And next time... you'll be dead. Now, tell me who it was. Hmm?"
I didn't answer. I just stared at my hands, my jaw clenched. I wouldn't be the one to send that she-wolf to her doom, no matter what she'd done to me.
He watched me, his gaze analytical. A slow, cruel smile touched his lips. "I see. So it was Carla."
My head snapped up so fast my neck ached. "What?! No!" I cried, the words bursting out before I could stop them. "Carla would never! She's... she's just one of the servants... like me. She's my friend."
Damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing.
His smile widened. He had me. "Then I'll have Miguel bring Carla to me," he said, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. "We'll see what she has to say when I ask her the truth. I wonder if she'll be as... loyal... as you are."
My stomach dropped. Oh, gods. He would interrogate her. He would hurt her. And if Beatrice found out Carla had witnessed the assault, she would kill her. My resolve shattered.
"No," I whispered, my lips quivering. "Fine. I'll tell you. Just... leave her out of this. Please."
He leaned back, the picture of satisfaction. "Good girl," he purred, as if praising a dog that had finally learned a trick. "Now, you're listening."
I swallowed, the air in the room feeling thick and heavy. It felt like a betrayal, even though Beatrice had tried to kill me. "It was... Lady Beatrice."
The amusement vanished from his face. His entire demeanor shifted, becoming a cold, controlled, lethal fury.
"Beatrice," he repeated, the name a growl of pure disgust.
He stood up, his intention clear. He was going to her.
"No!" Without thinking, my body acting on an instinct I didn't know I had, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand, my fingers clamping down on his wrist, trying to hold him back.
He froze.
His gaze dropped from my face to my small, pale hand clamped desperately around his much larger one. He looked at our joined hands for a long, silent moment. Then his eyes, still blazing with a cold fire, lifted back to mine.
I realized what I'd done. I'd grabbed the Alpha. I let go instantly, snatching my hand back as if I'd been burned.
"Please," I whispered, my voice shaking. "You... you don't have to hurt her. It's... it's fine. It's... I'm fine."