Page 40 of Claimed By the Rival Alpha
Eventually, I felt something warm drape across my shoulders. I looked around in the firelight and found that Violet had covered me with a pink and blue knitted throw. Violet settled down at my side and offered a cup of hot lavender and chamomile tea.I accepted it and took a deep sip. To my surprise, Violet had sweetened it with honey. That bit of kindness was all it took to push me over the edge.
As I lowered the cup, tears filled my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. I hated being Night’s prisoner because it meant I wasn’t free, but had I ever known true freedom? In the Kings’ pack, I had been ignored, belittled, and underappreciated. I hadn’t known a day of peace living under the thumbs of the Terrible T’s and Troy. My home was never my home, but at least my mom had been there to take care of me when I was hurt or lonely or scared.
I had been so confident that I’d be able to escape and live on my own with the humans, but now that I was forced to be away from Mom, that no longer seemed true. How could I have ever thought that I’d survive?
Violet’s constant presence while I cried was nice, but it didn’t quiet my sadness. In fact, I felt even more out of place sitting in the middle of Violet’s floor, sobbing my eyes dry than I had ever felt with the Kings.
After another hour, Violet lit a candle and led me to my bedroom. The candle was more for my benefit than Violet’s, as she could see easily in the dark. It was more thoughtfulness than I was used to from anyone other than my mom.
Inside the room, I flopped onto the bed and pulled the pillow close.
“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” Violet said gently. “And I mean anything, even if it’s just to talk, okay?”
I didn’t respond.
Violet gave me a smile. “Get some sleep, girlie. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to spend the sunrise in the garden. Maybe the world will look different for you in a new light.”
Again, I remained quiet.
“Alright, honey, I’ll see you in the morning.” She left the lit candle on the nightstand and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I turned on my side toward the window and held the pillow tight against my chest. I had no idea how much longer I would be a prisoner here. For all I knew, I would die in this house. Violet had said she wanted me to feel at home here, but how could I when I was surrounded by enemies and strangers? How could I see the world in a new light when my future looked so bleak?
I bit my lip as more tears poured down my cheeks. Clutching the pillow more tightly, I buried my face into it. Alone in the room, with a hint of Night’s scent in the pillow, I could admit to myself that the tears I shed now were different from any I’d shed before. This time, I wasn’t crying because I missed my mom or because I was a prisoner. These tears were from loneliness.
I knew now that I would never truly belong anywhere—I would never have a home.
18
BRYN
Iwoke to the smell of coffee and breakfast. It had been three days since I had started living with Violet, and so far, it had been really nice. Violet brought food from the mess hall, and we ate together for every meal. Despite my circumstances, I had really enjoyed getting to know Violet and all of her little quirks.
Today, breakfast was biscuits and mushroom gravy. The biscuits were perfectly cooked and fluffy. They felt like a slightly sweetened cloud on my tongue. The gravy itself was creamy and buttery, and I savored the taste while listening to Violet talk about the people of the village.
It was lovely and entertaining to hear some gossip, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t allowed to leave the premises of Violet’s home, and I missed interactions with other people. I missed listening to the sound of conversation going on around me and the way that the pups would joke around and play with me without any prejudice against me for being human. I missed the few young mothers who would chat with me.
After breakfast, I went upstairs to dress in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a pink hoodie. I slipped on a pair of black boots Violet had found that fit me perfectly.
Ready to work, I headed outside to the garden, squinting against the brightness. The sun was barely coming over the mountain, and the sky was filled with hues of pink and purple. I stood in the modest garden and tried for the third time to follow Violet’s advice to see it as a new day with new opportunities. What I saw was a beautiful sunrise, but it didn’t make me feel better about my captivity.
With a sigh, I turned away from the sunrise. I pulled on a pair of gardening gloves and grabbed a small trowel and shovel from the crate by the back door. I crouched low to the ground and set to work, muscle memory allowing me to space out as I tended the soil.
I checked the new growth of the lettuce, cabbages, and broccoli. I could tell from the way the soil was disturbed that they had been planted relatively recently, but they were quite far along. Here, like in the Kings’ pack, Violet must have known something about the land to allow her to grow gorgeous crops even in the off-seasons. I could tell that Violet’s garden didn’t get the kind of yields that we got at home—Mom’s garden was rarely burdened with even a single weed. But with a bit more TLC, I believed I could make some improvements here.
The irony of assisting the pack that was currently holding me hostage wasn’t lost on me, but it didn’t stop me from plucking dead leaves and weeds from the ground. Every garden deserved to be taken care of and loved. If I could be the one to help a garden thrive, well, it was too tremendous an opportunity to pass up.
As I continued to work, I heard a noise that caused me to look up. For an awful second, I was back in the garden with Troy.“Make sure you’re ready to ring in your birthday in a way that you won’t forget because it’ll be the last one you see as a free woman...”
But I snapped out of that memory when I realized there was a young woman about my age staring at me from the back door. It seemed that the sound I had heard was the woman accidentally kicking the tool crate. I slowly stood from my crouch, watching the newcomer with slightly narrowed eyes.
She was tall, likely around five foot nine, with long, jet-black hair that fell in waves down her back. It reminded me a bit of Night’s. She was beautiful, but it was understated in her soft cheekbones, round jawline, and deep, brown eyes. The woman and I continued to stare at each other until she finally leapt down the steps toward me.
I flinched as she came to a stop in front of me and the squash plants I was pruning. I half-expected a confrontation of some sort, but instead, I got a hug.
“Hello, hello,” the woman said, stepping back to look me in the eye. “You must be Bryn! I’m Octavia Black, and you can consider me your new best friend.”
I blinked, my brain slow to catch up with that whirlwind of a description. “I—I’m Bryn Hunter?—”
