Arya.
Days had gone by, and I wasn't keeping count anymore. The pain of the loss I felt from the truths that the Shelbys had shared with me was unbearable. I had cried so hard I was now weak from the tears.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't understand why they were so mean and wicked to me. Before I turned sixteen, Alison and Robert had already made my life miserable, making me feel lesser than human, like I wasn't supposed to exist. But after I turned sixteen, all the teen wolves my age were already turning.
A year passed, and nothing. I had feared that maybe it was because of the childhood illness Alison claimed I had. And I took the medicine she fed me without complaint. Another year passed, and Robert and Alison couldn't resist announcing to whoever wanted to listen that I was an outcast.
I was still curled up in my cell, the cold floor beneath me seeping through my thin clothes.
I didn't know if it was the heartache or the energy spent crying that made me feel sick, but the physical toll was evident. My body felt frail, weakened by the emotional storm that raged within me.
I sighed weakly. I've been feeling out of it since the day Alison was here. I felt so tired, and for some reason, after I managed to eat, I couldn't seem to hold the food down.
My cell reeked of vomit and I couldn't care less. I didn't want to give Ethan the satisfaction that I needed him. I just wanted this pain to end.
At this point, the only thing keeping me alive was Tyler. I held on to memories of him like a lifeline. The way his smile could light up the darkest corners of my world. His touch, warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the coldness that had enveloped me since the day Ethan abducted me. Tyler had been my refuge, the one person who saw beyond the outcast label that had been unfairly branded onto me.
The doors to the cell opened, interrupting my thoughts. It was probably time to sedate me. Two guards entered the cell, their footsteps echoing in the cold, dimly lit space. I didn't bother looking up at them. What was the point? They were just doing their job, following orders from their Alpha.
"She doesn't look too good," one of the guards said as he tentatively touched me. I flinched at the contact, my frail body recoiling from the intrusion. "We need to report this to the Alpha."
"Should I sedate her first?" The other guard with the syringe asked. The metallic glint of the needle sent shivers down my spine.
"No, let the Alpha decide," the first guard replied. They exchanged a meaningful glance before withdrawing from the cell, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As the doors clanged shut, I huddled deeper into the cold corner of my cell. Tyler's face flickered in and out of focus, a beacon in the darkness that threatened to consume me.
***
Ethan.
The thought of Lauren's feistiness brought a smirk to my face. She probably expected me to go easy on her when I mentioned enjoying the show. Beating her up had been more than satisfactory, and the prospect of her becoming Luna, just to gain favor with Tyler, fueled my amusement. I couldn't wait to rub it in my brother's face that his precious Luna willingly took a beating from me for political gains.
As I contemplated my next move, a sharp knock on my door disrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I grumbled, my alpha instincts flowing through my voice. This interruption had better be worth my time.
"Alpha." The guard saluted, awaiting my signal to proceed. I nodded, giving him permission to speak.
"I just got information from the prison guards that the special wolf is sick."
Sick? The word hung in the air, and a frown etched itself across my face. Why would Arya be sick? I hadn't deprived her of food, though it had been a while since I went down to the prison to check on her. She couldn't die now. Not before fulfilling my purpose for her. I leaned back in my chair, impatience evident in my gaze.
"Go on," I growled, eager for him to provide the details. The guard shifted uncomfortably, sensing the urgency in my tone.
"She's not moving or speaking, Alpha. She vomits regularly, barely able to keep anything down."
""And you're telling me this now?" I growled dangerously lowly, my eyes narrowed.
"I only just received the report, Alpha. The severity of Arya's condition became apparent recently." The guard replied, fear evident in his voice.
My mind raced, contemplating the implications of Arya's condition. A sick wolf was of no use to me, and I couldn't afford to let her die before she played her role in my plan.
"Take me to her," I ordered, rising from my chair abruptly. The guard nodded, leading the way to the prison section of my mansion. The scent of confinement and desperation filled the air as we approached Arya's cell.
She lay on the cold floor, a mere shadow of the defiant spirit I had encountered before. Her eyes, once filled with defiance, now held a mixture of pain and vulnerability. My initial satisfaction with her weakened state transformed into a calculating assessment of her value to me.
"What happened?" I demanded, my tone sharp as I knelt beside her. The prison guard hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"She's been like this for a while, Alpha. We thought it was the sedatives, but it seems to be something else. She needs medical attention."
Arya's condition posed a dilemma. I couldn't afford to lose her, but her usefulness hinged on her survival. A growl of frustration rumbled in my chest as I grappled with the decision.
The guard stepped back, allowing me the space to assess the situation. "Take her to the hospital," I finally instructed. The guard nodded and began arranging for Arya to be transported, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The guard nodded, and as he made arrangements wiitth the prison guards to move Arya, I couldn't shake the nagging thought that her sickness might completely ruin the plans I had for her and the Rogue pack.