Chapter 9: Afraid

I sat in the bedroom for hours. There was no clock, and I'd begun to measure the passing of time by the movements of the sun. The window's were East facing, and I begun my counting the moment the sun began to creep out of the treeline.

I had to figure out a plan. I wasn't sure when the trial would be, and I wasn't sure how it would go. How harsh Nick would be. But I had to plan for the worst. Punishments in packs like these, hard packs, weren't easy. You weren't given kitchen duty or put into your room for a week. These were the places where you were cut and lashed. It wasn't punishment, it was torture, and I wasn't going to put my mother through that.

I’d heard enough chatter through the door to know that her damage had been minimal; no one had died, no one was hurt beyond repair. The real issue at hand was the fact that she’d single handedly headed a rebellion, that she’d infiltrated the pack and tried to get to the Alpha, and his mate. That was what I was, I realized; I wasn’t her daughter anymore, I was his mate.

I'd take her place, I decided. I'd demand that I be punished, because everything she's done was for me. She wasn't in her right mind, she was a parent protecting her pup. Nick would have to punish me. He either wouldn't, or, the more likely scenario, he would. I'd prove to the pack that I wasn't weak, I'd be strong, and I'd gain some respect.

As I sat there, making my plan, there was a quiet knock on the door. Glancing upwards, it opened slowly, and Minnie's head appeared, smiling warmly at me.

"Hey there sweetie. The trial starts in an hour, I thought you'd want to get ready. Look nice, since you'll be up front with Nick." She explained, moving in and shutting the door behind her. I swore her stomach had gotten bigger since yesterday. I rubbed my eyes, thoroughly exhausted, but smiled at her and nodded.

"Thanks." I said, contemplating revealing my master plan to Minnie, but ultimately deciding against it. I trusted her, considering she was one of the few to show any semblance of kindness and acceptance, but I didn't know her well enough to judge her reaction. To see if she'd try to talk me out of it, or rat me out to keep me safe. It was exactly why I had no intention on telling my siblings.

If Nick knew ahead of time, he'd be able to do something to stop me. But in front of his people, he'd be forced to treat me same as everyone else.

I eyed the mass of clothes in her arms, and the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked prepared for a total makeover, and I was baffled by the idea that I was supposed to dress up this much for a trial. I'd never attended one before; they were for the members of the pack house, the heads of each family, and those tied to the incident. It was bizarre, that anyone would dress up for something like this. But I'd comply; I didn't mind dressing up, quite liked it actually, and I wanted things to go smoothly until the trial. That was when shit would fly.

I sat down on the bed, and found myself subconsciously tuning out Minnie as she ruffled through the clothes, holding them against me before dropping them in the pile. She kept talking about style and curves and coloring, and I nodded along, though didn't listen. I was terrified by the idea of what would go down in an hour.

"Darcy."

My name pulled me out of my trance and I glanced at Minnie, wide-eyed, spooked. I quickly realized that this wasn't the first time she'd tried to get my attention, and she held out a mass of clothing and a few shower items.

"Here." She said, her eyes full of concern but her smile soft. "Nick had me go out and get some clothes for you last night— your suitcase was, like, ninety percent socks. I have a few more bags too, I'll put them away while you're in the shower."

I opened my mouth to speak, to thank her, but no words came out. She seemed to understand, though, dropping the clothes on the bed, sitting down and wrapping her arms around me. The hug was awkward, with her stomach in between us, but she was warm, with a comforting sort of air to her. She rubbed my back and smoothed my hair down in a way that made me feel like a child again, that made me want my mother.

"I didn't want this, Minnie, none of it." I mumbled into her shoulder, my shoulders shaking with the emotions welling within me. "A week ago, I was fighting with my brother about who finished the cookies, and now I’m supposed to be front and center in a trial against my mother. It’s too much, it’s too fast."

I was a mess. My eyes were red, tears threatening to fall as I struggled to catch my breath. I didn't need a mirror to know I looked like a disaster. She pulled away for a moment, a level of understanding in her eyes that my heart began to ache.

She wiped my tears away, smiling at me once more, and she gave a small nod. "Sweetie, I know. I was in the same position as you are, when Thomas found me. The men in this pack, everyone over the age of eighteen, they're... scarred. Nick's father was an awful man, and he did things to him that people don’t recover from. Love, kindness, it’s not something he was ever taught” Her features say more than her lips, they speak volumes of stories she can’t say aloud. She brushes my hair out of my face, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment. “I know this is all a lot. And I know you didn’t sign up for it. But you’ve got to lean into the cards you’re dealt. It’s barely been a few days for Nick too, and he needs to— adjust. Give him the chance."

Minnie's voice was soothing. It made me feel better and worse at the same time. She was the first one to tell me that he really wasn't some big bad guy. That he had some semblance of a heart. But she left me with questions I knew she couldn't answer.

She watched me for a minute before standing, Holding the clothes out once more. "Go on now, take a shower, get dressed. I'll put the clothes away, I got you some makeup, I'll leave that out. Eight, it starts." She told me, tone light, smile bright. I knew she wasn't happy, it didn't reach her eyes, but she was trying to be strong, I realized, because she needed me to be. She had faith in me, a total stranger, to be a good leader. It was shocking, really.

I took the stuff and got in the shower. Coconut shampoo and conditioner, spearmint toothpaste, a soft toothbrush. I wasn't sure how either of them knew these things about me, but I didn't question it. There was a really good chance someone had taken a peek into my room when Nick took me, and while it was an invasion of privacy, I figured it wouldn't be the last.

As I cleaned myself, I found myself wondering if perhaps this was some twisted nightmare. Perhaps this wasn't real. I was in a coma, maybe, or dead. Maybe this was my personal hell for whatever I'd done wrong in my life.

I forced myself to wipe the morbid thoughts from my mind. I couldn't afford to lose myself, my sanity. My mother needed me to protect her, and I needed to stop this. All of this chaos, this pain. I dried off, taking my time as I got ready. I curled my hair, did my makeup carefully. I got dressed, slipped on my shoes, and inspected myself on the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.

I looked like I was going to some charity dinner. The dress, in itself, made me nauseous. Fitted until my waist and hanging from there, off-the-shoulder straps, it was carefully sexy. But the red, the shade of bloody red, made me feel faint. Granted, red looked good on me, but something in the pit of my stomach said I'd be seeing a lot of red today.

My nerves began to hum and I knew it was Nick before he even appeared in the mirror, watching me with a dark gaze.

"You look incredible, Darcy." He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked sharp, in a suit with a red tie. The same red as my dress. His face was freshly shaven, his hair done - he'd gotten ready. Just not here.

"Thought I'd look nice to watch you torture my mother." I bit out, my hands moving up to fix a lump in my hair. I was angry, and I'd be damned if he didn't know it.

"Darcy, I can’t let a rebellion like that go ignored, whether it’s your mother or not. I give her a free pass, and the whole system falls apart."

I feel my hands clench as he speaks, like any of this was alright. Like his entire system of holding so many packs under his thumb was justified. "It was a rescue mission Nick."

"You didn't need rescuing."

I swallow. "Maybe I do." I turned to face him, feeling my hands shaking, and I ball them into fists at my sides, glaring at him. I took a step toward him, everything about my stance a challenge, and he didn't move. He wasn't afraid of me, and I didn't need him to be. I just needed him to know that I was tired of all of this. "Nick, you've done some awful things that everyone swears are true. She was afraid her youngest pup was being tied up and tortured. She's not some loose cannon, she's a mother who loves her children. How the hell is that a crime?"

He didn't respond. His face gave away nothing, his scent gave away nothing. I wanted the mark at this moment, for no reason other than to figure out what he was feeling. To get into his head.

"Are you ready? It'll be starting soon." He said finally, voice tight and tense.