Chapter 177 Chapter 177
Violet
It was fucking killing me to see him so helpless and defeated.
"Please stop," I whispered, but I didn't know if I was asking him to stop talking or stop hurting Elijah or just stop everything.
"And that is just the tip of the iceberg. He has more skeletons in his closet than the witch killed in the great war. When you learn the truth," Alaric continued, "when you understand what he really is, you'll be sick. You'll realize that I'm not the monster in this room. He is and he always has been."
He turned away, moving back toward his desk with sharp, angry movements. "Both of you, get out of my sight. I can't stand to look at either of you right now."
"Come on," Elijah said quietly, and I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me gently to my feet. "We need to go."
"I'll help," Kelly said quickly, moving to Elijah's other side. Her face was still wet with tears, the poker abandoned on the floor where she'd dropped it. "Let me help you."
Between the two of us, we managed to get Elijah toward the door. He was swaying slightly, whether from pain or blood loss or just exhaustion I couldn't tell. His skin was clammy beneath my hands, his breathing shallow.
As we crossed the threshold, Alaric's voice stopped us one more time.
"Elijah," he said, not turning around. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
"I know," Elijah said quietly.
Then we were out in the hallway, the door swinging shut behind us, cutting off the firelight and Alaric's presence and the oppressive weight of that office.
Elijah tried to pull away, tried to stand on his own, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He stumbled, and Kelly and I both grabbed him, taking his weight between us.
"I'm fine," he muttered, but his voice was weak, unconvincing.
"You're not fine," I said, my own voice shaking. "You're bleeding and hurt and you need help."
"My room," he managed to say. "Just... get me to my room."
Kelly nodded, adjusting her grip on his arm. "Come on. Lean on us. It's not far."
We half-walked, half-carried him down the hallway. Every step seemed to cost him, his breath coming in sharp gasps when we jostled his injuries. Blood from the wounds on his back was seeping through the shirt Kelly had grabbed from the office, staining the white fabric red.
The servants and maids that we passed in the hallways stared and whispered. But no one stopped us, no one offered help. They just watched with wide eyes as we struggled past, and I hated every single one of them for their cowardice.
By the time we reached Elijah's room, I was crying. Silent tears streamed down my face as we got him inside, as Kelly helped me lower him carefully onto his bed, as he finally allowed himself to show the pain that he'd been hiding in his father's office.
"Thank you," I said to Kelly, who was hovering uncertainly by the door. "Thank you for helping."
She nodded, fresh tears falling. "I didn't want to hurt him. You have to believe me. I would never…but my family…I needed the job…"
"I know," I said gently. "I know. It's not your fault."
She stared at Elijah with what I couldn’t decide was longing or care and then looked at me.
“You are lucky that he treats you so well.”
I shrugged. “He treats everybody well.”
She wiped the tears trickling down her eyes.
“Yes but you are special. And not all men in this family know how to respect a woman.”
That bit was true. I didn’t know what I had done to receive this special treatment from him or why he wasn’t like his father or even Nate that Alpha Alaric adored for some reason.
“I…I have to return to work. Alpha Alaric wont let a doctor check him so try to get his wounds cleaned yourself. And don't worry, I won't tell anybody what happened.”
“I will, thanks again”
She cast one final look at Elijah and then left, closing the door softly behind her, leaving me alone with Elijah and the horror of what I'd just witnessed.
I looked down at him on the bed, at his ruined back, at the blood still seeping from fresh wounds. At this man who'd been beaten and broken and told he was a monster and searched for the first aid kit.
My hands were shaking as I moved to the adjoining bathroom, looking for anything that might help. It broke my heart to see him like this, bloodied and beaten just because of me.
Alpha Alaric’s words still rang in my head of how Elijah had killed his brother. Could he have really odne that?
He loved Cassie a lot and protected her more than his own self. How could he have taken the life of another sibling?
But then Elijah had often called himself a monster and that he had done some irredeemable things.
But right now as I stared at his mangled back, I could not bring myself to think of anything else.
I had no doubts Kelly was telling the truth about Elijah’s father not wanting a doctor to tend to his wounds.
I had to clean the wounds to the best of my ability.
Thankfully, I found a first aid kit tucked under the sink not long after. It was a forgotten old box but consisted of basic supplies such as bandages, and some antiseptic. Nothing seemed adequate for the severity of his injuries.
I stood frozen for a moment, staring at him where he lay face-down on the bed. I forced myself to take a good look at his injuries again. And up close, his back was a horrific landscape of brutality with angry red welts crisscrossing the tattooed skin, some already darkening to deep purple. Fresh cuts oozed blood where the belt had broken through, and older bruises painted his ribs in sickening shades of yellow and green.
The intricate tattoos that had always seemed so beautiful, so carefully designed, were now obscured by violence. The dark ink that swirled across his shoulders and down his spine was lost beneath layers of damage, the artistry destroyed by his father's rage.
With shaky hands, I grabbed clean towels and a bowl, filling it with warm water. My movements felt mechanical, and disconnected, like I was watching myself from outside my body.
When I returned to the bedside, Elijah hadn't moved. His breathing was shallow, his face turned to the side on the pillow. His eyes were closed, and I couldn't tell if he was unconscious or just trying to escape the pain through sheer force of will.
"Elijah?" I said softly, setting the bowl on the nightstand. "I'm going to clean the wounds. This might hurt."
There was no response from him, not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
I sat on the edge of the bed, dipping one of the towels into the warm water and wringing it out.