~ ROSELLE ~
It still feels like a dream. My injuries have been tended to, and I’ve been provided with a simple free gown that doesn’t cling to my body, airy and soft against my injuries. It feels like I’m still trapped in a dream I’ll soon wake up from, only to find myself back in the cell, with Nova hitting the fuck out of ... for eating my food too fast or starving for too long.
The doctor and nurses have left the room, and I’m all alone inside, with an IV drip connected to my body. The doctor had explained how I shouldn’t move and should let it finish dripping, and how I should call him when it’s done. They’re all so calm, so calm, no one yelling at or telling how dumb I am.
Does this really exist?
There’s a knock on the door. My eyes imdiately dart toward it, waiting for soone to walk in.
One knock. Two.
The door opens, and a strange girl I haven’t t, and who I don’t recognize as one of the nurses, enters. Brown eyes, dressed in a casual shirt and tight jean trousers, black hair rolled into a bun.
Her face imdiately pulls into a warm smile when she sees .
She’s carrying a closed tray. I sit up, ready to sign if she needs to do anything.
"Good evening, my Lady. The Alpha sent to bring dinner for you... I’m Celeste, your maid. I’ll be helping you settle in and assisting you with anything you need while you stay here." Her smile softens even more. "And Alpha Ronan said to call for him if you need anything at all."
I nod my head as she walks closer, bringing the tray to the bed, and then she drags a side table to the side of the bed, placing the tray right on it. Opening the tray, the scent of food wafts through the air, hitting my nose.
I sign, telling her thank you.
"Should I help you up?" I shake my head slowly, managing it myself, even though my arms protest the movent. The IV line shifts with and I’m careful with it, the way Elias showed .
Celeste adjusts the tray without being asked, tilting it slightly so it’s easier to reach. Are these people real?
I pick up the spoon slowly. The food slls extraordinary, warm broth, soft bread on the side. I have to remind myself to go slowly. My stomach has forgotten what a full al feels like and the last thing I want is to embarrass myself in front of this kind-faced stranger by getting sick on her nice tray.
I took a spoonful, then another.
My eyes sting, and I blink the tears away quickly because I absolutely refuse to cry over soup, even if it’s the best thing I’ve tasted in so long I can barely rember the last proper al I had. Every mouthful feels strange, like I’m getting back a part of myself I didn’t even realize was missing.
With a spoonful of food in my mouth, I look up to see Celeste walking around, trying to arrange things in order, even the slightest details, it suddenly hits that’s she’s trying to stay with .
My eyes zeros on her brown orbs when she spun, and I take the chance to imdiately sign that she doesnt have to stay.
Her face lit into a smile, deep, flashing ber tow side dimples. "I know my lady, but I want to, if that’s fine eith you..."
I stare at her for a mont, her actions triggering mories ive buried down.
I nod slowly, accepting her proposal, and she gives another bow. Why is she treating with so much respect even after knowing I’m mute? She’s still bowing, still asking politely, not acting like she’s above just because she can talk and I can’t.
She settles into the chair near the window, folding her hands in her lap.
I returj to my al, eating smowly... until the tray is half empty and my stomach starts sending very firm signals that half is probably enough for tonight.
I sign again. ’I’m done.’
"I’ll take it," she says, already reaching for the tray. Her eyes scan the little remnants, as though she’s satisfied that half of the contents are gone. She lifts it up. "Rest well, my Lady. I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything."
Then she bows, walking to the door and pulling it shut behind her.
I lean back against the pillows, staring ceilingward. The ceiling above is clean and still, the room calm, the kind of silence that almost feels too suspicious, and I’m scared sothing bad might happen... I’m too scared. I don’t want to get too comfortable only to end up back in my cell again.
No footsteps to catalogue and identify before they reach the door, or lying awake calculating whether tonight is going to be a bad night or a worse one.
I exhale slowly, contemplating whether to trust the silence, when a knock suddenly cos at the door.
I raise my brow staring at the door, this ti expecting either the doctor. One of the nurses or Celeste to walk back inside.
Imdiately, the door creaks open, and that intoxicating scent of vanilla, wood, and chocolate fills the room... my eyes trailing after him as he kicks the door shut and walks right toward my bed.
He’s changed now from the casual fit he wore to Westbrook. As an Alpha, I was expecting sothing more official, but no, he had dressed casually.
Black loose-fitting pants, a shirt that shows every curve of his maddening body. I don’t need soone to tell he actually spends ti in the gym... I can already see it for myself.
He moves to the side of the bed, stopping a reasonable distance away, those grey eyes zeroing in on mine. I can’t tell what’s going on in his head or what he’s thinking... his face is plain, void of any emotion, and dare I say it, he’s fucking hard to read.
Those eyes stare deeply, as though he can see every corner of my life.
"How are you feeling?" a voice so soft yet hoarse asks.
I nod, and then sign, "I’m fine."
His eyes leave mine, directing to the IV drip before assessing my body.
"I know this is not the right ti... but I need you to be completely honest with , Roselle."
My fingers still against the blanket, my heart hamring again... did I do sothing wrong?
"The injuries Elias found." Grey eyes et mine again, unblinking this ti. "Was it Warren? Him and his fiancée?"
He sounds so sure, as though he just wants to confirm it and not object.
I weigh the odds in my head... Ronan had actually slamd Warren onto the table when he caught him hitting . What would he do when he eventually gets the full picture? Wage war?
Whatever Westbrook is, whatever it did to , there are people there who had nothing to do with it. Pack mbers who are innocent, children who don’t know what happens in the basent. People who were just trying to survive in the sa pack I was surviving in.
If Ronan wages war on Westbrook because of . I can’t. I shake my head.
"No," I sign, keeping my hands steady through sheer force of will. "It wasn’t them. I had an accident. I’m always quite clumsy, and sotis I tend to fall without noticing until I end up getting injured..." I lie, avoiding his gaze.
I et his gaze again, and his eyes stay on as though he wants to push for more. Those looks are telling he’s not buying it... and imdiately, I’m scrambling through my head for more lies to back up my claims just in case he pushes further.
"Okay," he says simply, as though he’s settling for the lesser evil of questions.
He looks at the IV, and then finally says, "Get so rest. Elias says you’re not to move around until morning."
I nod, exhaling softly as he turns to leave. He reaches the door and then looks back at .
I straighten imdiately, trying to pull my face into a smile. "Thank you for everything..."
His eyes turn sober... is it just , or does seeing smile make him want to cry?
"You don’t have to thank . It’s my job to protect you, and I’m doing just that."
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