Page 109 of In Knots

Chapter 29

My eyelids are heavy, so heavy. I drag them open and light hits my vision before my lids drop shut again.

Vaguely, somewhere far away, I can hear shouting and commotion. Someone calling and calling my name. But I can make no sense of it.

My head aches against my skull and my limbs hang like dead weights. I groan and try again. Prising my eyelids open, I peer into the light. The world is blurry and it takes several long seconds for my mind to decode where I am.

My room.

At home.

Claude purring at the end of my bed.

The loud, heavy noise now gone.

This isn’t right. I try to think, to understand why. I’m in my bed, in my home. This is where I belong. Isn’t it?

Something deep in my chest tells me it’s not. And slowly my thoughts start to assemble in my head. As the realisation hits me, I drag myself up to sit. The room is empty. Just me and Claude. My arm stings and I tear at my nightgown and see the puncture mark.

What did they give me? I rub my head, trying to think.

More of those thoughts come swirling into my head, images of the night before.

At least, I think it was the night before. How long have I been asleep? How long have I been unconscious? Did I dream those sounds from before?

A glass of water sits on the dressing table beside me. I lift it to my mouth, wanting to wash away the drugs I’m sure are swimming through my veins, Then I pause. I sniff the water. It smells perfectly fine, but I’m not going to risk it. I can drink from the tap in the bathroom instead. Slowly, I swing my feet to the floor, the motion making me giddy. I try to stand. As soon as my weight shifts to my feet, my head spins so quickly I fall straight back into my bed.

“Shit,” I mutter. How am I meant to get out if I can’t even stand? How can I get back to my alphas?

Then I remember the gun. I remember my father and his words. Terror rattles down my body and I curl myself into a ball.

Are they in danger? Because of me?

My eyes are so heavy. I try to stop my lids from falling, but it’s hopeless. Soon I’m dragged into the darkness again.

The next time I wake, I feel the presence of someone beside me. This time, I open my eyes cautiously. The drowsiness remains, but my eyelids feel lighter and so does my body. My mother sits in a chair beside the bed, a book resting in her lap. Her hands grip the cover with such force I can see every vein and sinew beneath the skin.

“Mother?” My voice is a croak, my tongue dry and heavy.

She lifts her gaze from the book, closing it, her hands resting on top. Her mouth is a tight line of tension and her brow is wrinkled with concern.

“Alexa,” she says, and the way she utters my name conveys everything she must be feeling. Dismay and disappointment.

“What happened to me?” I ask. “What did they do to me?”

She rests her hand on my arm. “The doctor gave you something to calm you down. You were hysterical.”

Pulling myself up, and shaking away her grip, I throw back the covers. It’s nothing less than I had already figured for myself. Yet hearing my mother say it, is a betrayal that hits me deep in my chest.

“They drugged me! Daddy drugged me! He threatened me with a gun!”

My mother’s spine stiffens. “He rescued you, Alexa, from that gang of criminals. What did you expect him to do?”

“I didn’t need rescuing. And they aren’t criminals.”

My mother scoffs, shaking her head and standing. Crossing her arms over her chest, she walks towards the window. “Don’t be so naïve. Of course they are. I will go find your father. He wanted to speak to you when you woke up.”

“Well, I don’t want to speak to him.” I slide off the bed and, with wobbly feet, walk to my wardrobe, yanking out the first piece of clothing I find.

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