Chapter 9
Ema's
The tray sat on the small wooden table right beside the bed. I stared at it for a long time, not moving. It looked so strange to see something so normal in a place that felt so wrong. There were scrambled eggs, cooked to a soft, bright yellow. Beside them were two slices of golden toast, still warm enough that I could see a bit of steam rising from them. There was a small glass bowl filled with freshly cut fruit—red strawberries, green grapes, and pieces of orange. Finally, there was a heavy black mug filled with steaming hot coffee. The smell of it filled the room, and for a second, it reminded me of a normal morning in a normal life. It was a meal that belonged in a kitchen, not in a cage like this.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the food before I finally decided to move. That scar guy was still there. He stood near the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched every move I made. He wasn't being mean or threatening, but he was very alert. He watched me the way a guard watches a prisoner, making sure I didn't try to hide anything or find a way to escape.
I picked up the spoon with a shaking hand. The moment the first bite of eggs touched my tongue, my body seemed to wake up. I realized just how empty my stomach actually was. I hadn't eaten a real meal in what felt like forever. A sharp, sudden hunger rushed through me, and I couldn't help myself. I started to eat as fast as I could.
I shoveled the eggs into my mouth. I tore the toast apart with my fingers and ate it in big bites. I swallowed the fruit without really taking the time to taste how sweet it was. The food was warm and real, and it was the best thing I had tasted in weeks. For a few minutes, I forgot where I was. I forgot about the men and the warehouse and the chains. I just focused on the feeling of my stomach finally being full.
When the plate was completely empty, I set the spoon down on the tray. I took a deep breath and looked up. He hadn't moved an inch the entire time. He was still standing by the door, his eyes fixed on me.
"Thank you," I said. My voice was very quiet. The words felt strange in my mouth. I wasn't used to saying thank you to someone who was keeping me against my will.
He didn't smile back. He didn't say anything at all. He just gave me a single, short nod to show he heard me. He walked over to the table, picked up the heavy tray, and turned around to head back to the door.
"Wait," I said quickly. I didn't want him to leave yet. I needed to know something. "How long... how long am I going to be staying here?"
He stopped walking and looked at me over his shoulder. His eyes were flat and didn't show any emotion. It was like looking at a wall.
"You're not in a position to ask questions like that," he said. His voice was firm.
I closed my mouth and looked down at the floor. I felt a sudden weight in my chest. I lowered my eyes, feeling small and foolish for even asking. He stepped out, and the silence filled the room again, heavier than before.
Then, the door opened again.
I looked up, expecting him to be coming back for something. But it wasn't him. Derek walked into the room.
My stomach dropped immediately. I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me. On the outside, he looked exactly the same as he had before. He was still shirtless, showing off his strong chest and the dark tattoos that covered his skin. He still looked dangerous, like a predator. But his eyes were different today. They looked brighter, almost glowing with a strange energy. They looked hungry.
The way he stared at me made my skin crawl. It was a look of pure possession. He didn't see me as a person; he saw me as something he owned.
He started walking toward the bed. He moved with slow, controlled steps, never taking his eyes off my face. Without even thinking about it, I scrambled backward on the mattress. I pressed my back against the hard wooden headboard, trying to get as far away from him as possible.
He stopped right in front of the bed. He leaned down toward me until his face was only a few inches away from mine. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. It was an intense, overwhelming heat that made the air feel thick. Without looking away from me, he spoke to the other guy he called Marcus, who was standing in the hallway.
"Leave," Derek ordered.
"Yes, Alpha," Marcus replied.
I heard the door close and the lock click. Now, it was just the two of us.
I swallowed hard, my throat feeling dry. I tried to find my voice. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked. I tried to sound brave, but my voice wavered.
Derek smiled. It was a slow, sharp smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was nothing like the small, almost-human looks he had given me before. This smile was predatory. He reached out and cupped my face with both of his hands. His palms were hot against my skin. His thumbs began to brush over my cheeks in a way that was supposed to be gentle, but it felt possessive. It felt like he was marking me.
"I can finally feel you," he whispered. His voice was a low, vibrating growl. "I can feel all of you now. There's no more reason for me to fight it."
"I don't understand what you're talking about," I said, my heart racing. "Please, just get away from me."
The smile vanished from his face instantly. His expression turned hard and angry. In one rough, sudden motion, he shoved me down onto the bed.
I let out a gasp as I landed on my back. Before I could even try to get up, he climbed over me. He pinned me down, his knee resting on the mattress right beside my hip. I was trapped between the bed and his heavy body.
"You don't get to have a choice anymore, Ema," he growled. He looked down at me, and I saw his jaw clench. "You belong to me now. Every breath you take, every single heartbeat in your chest—it's all mine."
A wave of pure terror crashed into me. It was cold and sharp. This wasn't the man who had wiped away my tears in the cell. This was something else entirely. This was a monster. I felt like something was very wrong.
He lowered his face to my neck. I felt his hot breath burning against my skin. It made me shiver. His lips brushed against my pulse point, right where my heart was thumping wildly. I raised my hands and tried to push against his chest. I tried to move him, but he felt like he was made of solid iron.
"Stop," I begged. "Please, stop this."
He didn't move. He didn't even seem to hear me. His hand reached down and grabbed the bottom of my gray sweatshirt. He pulled the fabric up, and I felt the cold air of the room touch my stomach. I started to fight harder, twisting my body and trying to kick him off.
"No! Get off me!" I screamed.
He pulled back for a second and looked down at me. My heart stopped. His eyes weren't brown anymore. They were glowing a bright, terrifying red.
"I've waited far too long for this," he said. His voice was dark and filled with a strange pain. "I've spent years alone. And now you are finally here." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Every wolf in this territory is going to know that you are mine. They will smell my scent on you. They will see my mark. You will be mine forever."
Tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision. I started to shake uncontrollably.
"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Just leave me alone. Please don't do this."
His mouth moved back toward my neck. I felt his teeth brush against my skin, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain of a bite.
Then, suddenly, he froze.
A loud, pained growl burst from his throat. It wasn't a sound of anger or pleasure. it was a sound of pure agony. He jerked away from me so fast I didn't even see him move. He fell off the side of the bed and hit the floor hard on his knees.
He clutched his head with both of his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp. He looked like he was in terrible pain.
I didn't waste a second. I crawled backward across the bed as fast as I could. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to make myself as small as possible. I watched him from the corner of the bed, terrified of what he might do next.
"No," he snarled. He sounded like he was arguing with someone I couldn't see. "Not like this. Not to her."
His entire body was shaking. A broken, choked sound escaped his lips. He looked like he was fighting a battle inside his own mind. Then, his body seemed to give out, and he collapsed forward. He stayed there on the ground with his hands flat on the floor, breathing in heavy, ragged gasps.
Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his head.
The red glow was gone from his eyes. They were dark brown again, but they looked different. He looked tired—exhausted, even. He looked ashamed of what he had just done. In that moment, he didn't look like a monster. He just looked human.
He looked at me. He really looked at me this time, seeing the fear in my eyes and the way I was shaking. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and completely broken.
"Are you okay?"