Chapter 94 Second Guessing
\[Osiris’ POV\]
I silently follow Ray into the large building and then toward the stairs. To my surprise, he starts to move up them, and I can’t help but wonder just how low his room is.
In a place like this, the floors went up by your means. Those with less money stayed on the lower floors, while those with the most stayed at the top.
‘Maybe his mother has cut him off.’ Sterling suggests, and I bite back on the laugh that wants to escape.
‘There is no way.’
Ever since we were young, that woman always doted on Ray, making sure that he didn’t want for anything and that he always wore and sported the latest brands.
I, on the other hand, was lucky if I managed to get new clothes or things.
That was just the way the world worked, and I got used to it while keeping my mouth shut and my eye on the prize.
It was only when my grandfather took me in that I finally started living above my means. How could I not? I was representing the Dawson empire, and because of that, I couldn’t do anything embarrassing.
For years that was the way it was, despite my stepmother attempting to frame me so that I fell out of grace.
When I finally got the opportunity to work and study overseas, I took it, and that was when I truly began to live freely.
If I were being honest, even now I wish that I could have just stayed in that place where business was booming and life was simple, but if I did, then I never would have met the woman who was meant for me.
What if I just take her there? I find myself thinking as Ray and I continue to move up floors until we reach the very middle of the building.
Frowning, I watch Ray start to move down the long hall that is lined with doors, and when he reaches the end, he pulls out a key.
“You’re living here?” I ask, shock rushing through me. “Shouldn’t you be in the upper wing?”
“Why?” He asks, giving me a look of amusement. “Should everyone who comes from a powerful family live there?”
For a moment, I don’t speak as I consider my brother’s words and the way that he is looking at me.
It’s odd, to say the least, but then I don’t bother questioning things.
Instead, I wait while Ray unlocks the door in front of us and then steps aside so that I can peek in to see the few things that have already arrived.
“It isn’t much.” Ray says, and I turn my gaze to his. “The rest will be coming shortly.”
Nodding, I turn my attention to the items once more and then feel my heart squeeze as I find something that I remember vividly.
“That,” I hiss, moving toward the chest of drawers that sits in the middle of the small living room. “Why do you…”
“Mother gave it to me.” Ray responds, coming to stand beside me. “She said that it was just collecting dust back home and insisted that I bring it along with me since I didn’t have much furniture.”
“Did she?”
I grow quiet, wondering whether or not Ray was even aware of who that item belonged to before it was given to him.
I was certain that he did, but even then I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting to me.
“Do take good care of it.” I say slowly, my voice neutral. “It is an antique.”
“I figured,” Ray agrees. “I already plan to fix it up and make it good as new.”
Eyes widening, I turn my gaze to the man who stands beside me.
I take him in, really take him in, while wondering what exactly was happening.
In the past Ray and I got along only when it was necessary. Aside from that, we basically remained strangers.
Things worked perfectly that way, and I never bothered trying to cross that line that was finely drawn between us.
As far as I was concerned, we were enemies, both vying for the same thing because we both had something to prove and someone to protect.
But now… Looking at him, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions or if maybe he wasn’t much different from me.
From where I stand I can see the dark circles that rest under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion on his face.
It’s clear that he has been pushing himself as hard as I have, if not harder, and I was certain it was his mother’s doing.
Was this the reason that my grandfather wanted to get us together? Was it to try to bridge the gap between us since we would be working in the same company and even going about matters of the pack?
No. I hiss, realizing that I was beginning to show weakness.
Whatever is going on here could be a trap that Ray and his mother have set out for me.
I can’t let myself begin to feel sorry. If I did, I was certain that could be used against me.
“When is the rest of your stuff coming?” I ask, realizing that maybe I made the wrong call in saying I’d help him with moving since his new home was nowhere near my prey. “Not too long, I hope.”
“No,” he tells me, shaking his head. “They should be here soon. Until then, would you help me move around the things that are already here?”
“Sure.”
Not wanting to waste any time, I begin to move, deciding to start on the heaviest of objects, but as I prepare to move the chest of drawers, which is the heaviest, I watch Ray bend and pick up a box that is full of books.
As he does, I see him fumble and then wince in pain before lifting and then slowly but surely moving it.
What the hell? I hiss inwardly, realizing that something was definitely wrong. What the hell is actually happening?
Was this a show of weakness for my benefit, or was there actually something going on with Ray?
Could this be the reason that he was living so below his means when in the past he lived so lavishly?
'Is it really any of our business?'
Sterling's voice is stern, cold, and uncaring, and I feel his disinterest rush through me.
'This is a good thing, isn't it?' He continues. 'It means that he won't get in the way of us taking over things.'
'You're right,' I agree, but even then I can't stop the curiosity that I am feeling.
"Sorry," Ray says, reminding me that I was staring. "I haven't been in the best of health recently."
Frowning, I consider what he has said to me while wondering what kind of illness could leave a wolf as strong as him like this.
"Have you been to the doctor?" I ask. "To see exactly what it is that is wrong with you?"
"I have," he confirms. "It isn't anything to worry too much about."
Opening my mouth, I prepare to say that's good or even that I wouldn't care either way, but I stop as he coughs and I see the slightest bit of blood staining his hand.
"Nothing to worry about," I repeat, shifting my gaze from his hand to his eyes. "If that's what you say, who am I to argue?"