MATED TO FATHER, FAT Chapter 70: WHY

Chapter 70: WHY

AMARIS

Nia grabbed my arm the second we exited the board room and yanked me to the side with enough force that I stumbled.

"What the fuck are you thinking Amaris?" Her voice came out as a hiss, low enough that the sentinels filing past us would not hear but sharp enough that I felt the full fledged judgment radiating off her eyes. "That is pure suicide."

What was I truly thinking?

The question echoed in my head because honestly I had no good answer. Why did I suggest using myself as bait? Was this some new suicidal tendency manifesting? Some subconscious death wish brought on by sleeping with Ryker and then being rejected so thoroughly I cried naked on a bathroom floor?

Or was I just so desperate to belong somewhere that I was willing to risk my life for a pack whose Alpha had treated me like livestock since I arrived?

I had no idea.

"I am just going to be bait," I defended, crossing my arms. "It is not like I am actually giving myself to Victor."

Nia hit her palm against her forehead hard enough that the sound echoed. "What difference does it even make? Bait still ends up dead, Amaris. That is how fishing works."

"I have made up my mind," I stated, lifting my chin in that stubborn way that usually got me into more trouble.

Nia threw her hands up. "Fine. Let me go prepare your coffin then."

I laughed despite the situation. "Aren’t you the comedian."

She did not look amused, just worried in a way that made my chest tighten because when was the last time someone actually cared if I lived or died?

"Did you see where Cole went?" Nia asked, changing the subject while scanning the hallway.

I shook my head. "We all left at the same time so it was hard to track anyone’s direction."

"Can I be excused to go look for him?" She was already moving toward the hallway before I could respond. "He has been acting strangely lately and I need to make sure he is okay."

"Sure," I agreed. "I will just head back to my room."

Nia smiled, squeezed my hand once, and then disappeared down the corridor leaving me alone in a hallway that suddenly felt too quiet.

I looked around trying to spot either Ryker or Rowan but they had both vanished.

I hated that I was still looking for them, still giving a damn about where they were or whether they cared about my insane bait proposal. How stupid was I? Scowling at my own patheticness, I muttered to myself while starting the walk back to my room.

Is this why I was doing it? Because I wanted to be liked by them? Wanted Ryker to look at me like I mattered instead of like a mistake he regretted? Wanted Rowan to stop pretending I did not exist while clearly being unable to stay away?

How absolutely pathetic.

I walked past offices I had never noticed before, spaces that probably held pack records and meeting rooms and all the administrative things that kept Gravemoon running. I would have loved to know more about how the pack actually functioned, about what my role as Luna was supposed to be beyond producing an heir.

But no one had bothered to explain any of that to me.

I passed a door marked with a female symbol indicating a restroom and was contemplating whether I actually needed to use it when a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

Before I could scream or fight or do anything rational, I was yanked into the bathroom and slammed against the wall hard enough that air left my lungs.

Ryker.

Of course it was Ryker. That psychopath.

The bathroom was small and utilitarian, white tile floors and walls that were probably meant to look clean but just looked cold. Three stalls lined one side with a row of sinks opposite them, mirrors reflecting our tangled position back at us in harsh fluorescent lighting. The door had one of those locks that clicked into place automatically and the sound of it engaging made my heart race.

We were alone.

Completely alone in a locked bathroom where no one would hear me scream.

"Ryker, how dare you—" I started, raising my hands to shove him away.

He caught both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head against the tile, his grip firm enough that struggling would be pointless. My mouth opened to scream and his free hand clamped over it, muffling any sound before it could escape.

"Calm the fuck down Amaris," he ordered, his face inches from mine.

I mumbled something against his palm that was supposed to be "I will not calm the fuck down you psycho" but came out as incoherent muffled sounds. I tried to wiggle away from his grip but even though he was only holding me with one hand he was so much stronger that my attempts at freedom just made me look ridiculous.

So I stopped struggling and glared at him instead, pouring every ounce of rage and hurt and confusion into that look.

"Finally," he muttered. "At least now I know it will be hard for Victor to kidnap you without you putting up a fight."

I scowled harder because of course he would make jokes about my potential kidnapping and murder.

"I am going to let go of your mouth," Ryker continued, his dark eyes boring into mine. "Promise me you won’t scream."

I nodded because what other choice did I have?

He slowly removed his hand from my mouth and I sucked in air, my lungs burning from the struggle and the adrenaline coursing through my system.

"What about my hands?" I demanded, testing his grip and finding it still iron solid.

"Those stay exactly where they are," he responded casually.

"What do you want Ryker?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"I have a solution to our problem."