Chapter 20: She's trapped

Alison's Point of View:

It was at a moment I believed that desperate times call for desperate actions. I furrowed my brows, tightened my fist, and got ready to die.

“But you rescued me. I didn't even ask, don't you know the popular saying that once you rescue a person, they become your responsibility, and it's your duty to care, protect and nurture them?” I asked with a sober voice. Actually, there was no popular saying that goes like that, so I formed it myself.

I held my breath as I waited for George's response, hoping that my desperate attempt to appeal to his sense of responsibility would work. George's expression changed from one of amusement to one of surprise, and he raised an eyebrow at me. He obviously wasn't expecting me to say something like that. He paused for a minute, as if considering his options before he replied.

"Go on," he said, his voice a little softer than before.

I took a deep breath and continued, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Well, if you rescue someone and then abandon them or, worse, kill them, it would be... unbecoming of a monarch of your stature. I mean, think of the reputation of the Lycan Kingdom. Would you want to be known as a ruler's grandchild who rescues people only to discard them like trash?"

I watched George's face closely, trying to gauge his reaction. To my surprise, he looked... thoughtful. He seemed to be considering my words, but little did I hear what he murmured under his breath: “The ruler's grandchild, this is becoming more insulting. This woman is a joke, but it's funny.” And for a moment, I dared to hope that I might actually get out of this situation alive.

But then, George's expression changed again, and he let out a low, menacing chuckle. "You are a clever one, I'll give you that," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "But do you think a few clever words will save you from your fate? I'm afraid not, little pest. Also, stop calling me the ruler’s grandchild, it's becoming insulting and embarrassing.”

I pouted my lips. “So, the rumors are true. The King is indeed rude, wicked and proud. Even his own direct descendant is ashamed of him,” I said thoughtfully, and without waiting for a response, continued. “I can sense that you want to out throw the king, don't worry, I will help you. All you have to do in return is free me from this situation I find myself in.”

I could see from the corner of my eyes that the maids were trying to get me to shut up, but I paid no attention to them.

George's eyes widened in shock, and he took a step forward, his face pale. "How dare you!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the walls. "You think you can just waltz in here and insult me? You're just a prisoner, nobody. You have no right to speak to me like that."

I was surprised by his angry tone, wondering why he got so furious when I was just trying to help him. Then I remembered that he must be playing hard to get, and this made me smile. I stood my ground, despite the fear that was growing inside me. I knew I had taken a risk by speaking out, but I had to try something. I wasn't ready to die.

"I'm not just a prisoner," I said, my voice steady. "I'm someone who can help you. And I'm willing to do that, if you're willing to let me go."

George's expression looked stiff, then suddenly it changed, and he looked at me with a calculating gaze. "Go on," he said, his voice softer than before. "What makes you think you can help me?"

I took a deep breath and launched into a speech, trying to convince George that I was worth sparing. I told him about my skills and abilities, and how I could help him achieve his goals. I spoke quickly and passionately, trying to persuade him to see things from my perspective.

As I spoke, I thought I could see the wheels turning in George's mind. ‘He’s considering my proposal, weighing the pros and cons.’ I thought. But, I could sense his hesitation, and I knew I had to press my advantage.

"So, what do you say?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Will you let me go, in exchange for my help? Trust me, the current King will be dead in no time.

George's eyes locked onto mine, and I held my breath, waiting for his response. His gaze seemed to bore into my soul, as if he was searching for any sign of deception. I held his gaze, trying to convey my sincerity. The air was thick with tension as we stood there, locked in a silent standoff.

Finally, George spoke, his voice low and measured. "You're a bold one, I'll give you that," he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But you're also quite...misinformed. You see, I am not the king's grandchild. I am the king."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. What? No, that couldn't be right. I had assumed he was just a prince or a noble, not the actual king. I kept looking at him and his face, he looked so young. How could he possibly be leading thousands of werewolves?’ I wondered. But looking at his attire, I guessed he might also be telling the truth.

My eyes widened in shock, and I took a step back, trying to process this new information. George's eyes never left mine, and I could sense a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. He was enjoying watching me squirm.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. I had to try again, to think of something to say to salvage this situation. I turned to look at the maids, most especially Sitonsia, and she gave me a ‘You never allowed me to explain’ look.

Before I could speak, George continued, his voice dripping with amusement.

"So, now that we've cleared up that little misunderstanding, tell me... what makes you think you can help me, Alison?”