130- The Cage of His Delusions
POV Lunara Grimwald:
Clothes were thrown onto me abruptly. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the harsh light illuminating the room we were in.
I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around, noticing the peeling paint on the walls and the stench of mold and filth.
“Take a shower,” Alessio said, standing with his hands on his hips in front of the bed where I lay. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
My throat was dry, and speaking felt like dragging sharp claws along its walls.
“It doesn’t matter, but we’re almost home,” he replied, scanning me from head to toe. “Don’t try anything stupid, Lunara. My men are watching every corner, keeping their eyes on you. They’re not as patient as I am, trust me.”
I stayed silent and merely nodded.
Snorting, Alessio turned and left the room through the side door, slamming it shut and locking it.
My head throbbed, and I felt weak and dizzy. Taking a deep breath, I sat up on the hard mattress, studying my prison more carefully.
It was a room in some cheap hotel. The faded red paint barely clung to the walls. Mold encrusted on the ceiling spread its stench through the air. The cleanliness was abysmal—cobwebs and a thin layer of dust covered the few pieces of furniture.
Besides the bed I had been on, there was a table with two chairs; a full kitchenette; a couch; and a television.
I stood with difficulty, holding the clothes Alessio had tossed at me. Leaning against the wall, I staggered toward the door leading to the bathroom.
It was even worse than the rest.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself and focus. A shower would help restore my strength, and I needed food.
There was no lock on the door. That alone made panic tighten my chest, especially after hearing what they’d said about me. Anyone could walk in and attack me.
I stopped in front of the sink and stared at my reflection in the stained mirror. My eyes were swollen from crying and red from the forced sleep I had been kept under. My hair was a tangled mess, and dried blood stained my skin and clothes.
I undressed with stiff fingers and rigid muscles. Stepping under the shower, I let the steaming water fall over my skin. There was no soap, and the towel hanging from the door looked used and filthy.
I let myself stand there for a moment, feeling the comforting embrace of the hot water relaxing my tense body. It was the first good thing I’d felt in days. My salty tears mixed with the clean water running down my face, washed away by the stream.
I cupped my hands and brought water to my lips, drinking greedily, soothing my raw throat. I repeated the motion several times, surprised by how intense my thirst was—something I hadn’t even noticed until then.
My mind was a mess; even though I’d been asleep, I felt physically and emotionally drained.
A noise outside the bathroom made me freeze on the spot.
I didn’t linger any longer, afraid Alessio would return or one of his males would invade my privacy.
I grabbed the towel, ignoring the strange yellowish stains covering it, and dried myself quickly.
The clothes Alessio brought were new, probably from some cheap store. Pants, a wool sweater, a coat, and boots. They still had the tags on and fit loosely, which didn’t bother me.
I combed my fingers through my hair, trying to untangle the knots.
My reflection was still chaos. The shower had washed away the visible filth, but not the pain etched in my eyes.
I heard the bedroom door open and tensed immediately. Alessio’s scent reached me. I heard his steps and the rustle of plastic.
“Lunara, I brought your dinner,” he announced. My stomach growled at the mention of food.
Slowly, I dragged myself out of the bathroom, finding him seated at the edge of the bed, waiting. His eyes roamed over me before he smiled.
“You look destroyed,” he said, pressing his lips together.
I growled.
“How kind of you to notice,” I scoffed. He smirked.
“Don’t be so upset, Lunara. We’re close to home. Once I remove that mark from your neck, you’ll have a bit of freedom.”
I pulled out one of the chairs and sat, hearing the old wood creak under my weight. I opened the bags Alessio had placed on the table and checked the food. Water and a bowl of green soup that didn’t smell remotely edible.
“Edric is coming after me, and he’s going to end you,” I hissed. I plunged the spoon into the sticky broth. My stomach twisted.
I ignored the nauseating texture and forced myself to eat.
It took everything in me not to throw up on the table.
The soup wasn’t just ugly—it was revolting. It had a sour taste that burned my tongue, as if it were spoiled. I swallowed, holding my breath.
“I think you’re not aware of my plans yet,” he murmured, analyzing me with detail. “I’m keeping our marriage. Don’t worry, this time I won’t reject you at the altar. We’ll pretend it never happened and move on with our lives.”
I opened the water bottle and drank it all in a few gulps, filling my stomach.
I stared at him, incredulous.
“Wow…” I hissed.
“So, you’ll be my wife. As you must know, with your father’s death and no successor to take his place, the remaining wolves pledged to serve me and my father. So we’re dealing with two packs now.” He shrugged, as if explaining basic logic. “Our child will be the leader of both packs.”
“And who said I’ll give you children?” I growled. He shrugged again.
“I did.”
“If you think I’ll agree to any of this, Alessio, you’re delusional. I will never marry you. I will never give you a single damn child. I hate you with every fiber of my being.”
He rolled his eyes and huffed.
“I know some things happened between us, but let’s leave the past behind. Think, if I’d never rejected you, you would be my wife today, maybe even carrying my pup.”
My jaw tightened.
“The only thing I regret, Alessio, is not killing you on the day of that damned wedding.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“You’re too out of shape since you ran from me. Once we get home, I’ll train you, remind you of your origins and who gives the orders.”
I stood abruptly, dragging the chair back with a screech. Alessio didn’t move; he remained seated, posture perfect, perched on the edge of the bed.
“You’re a fucking psychopath! You killed Anton, who was my friend—you killed my parents—you hunted me and attacked a pack that matters to me!”