<b>Chapter </b><b>85</b>
*Merikh*
The air is <b>warm </b>and <b>sticky</b><b>, </b>only adding <b>to </b>my already heightened irritation. I miss her<b>; </b>I miss her so damn much and I am angry <b>every </b>second of <b>every </b>damn day. What I want is my mate <b>back </b><b>at </b>any costs and that is a <b>dangerous </b>thought to <b>have</b>. To give up my life to know she will be okay would <b>be </b>well worth it.
But I want a <b>life </b>with her. One with adoration and singing her <b>praises </b><b>so </b>she understands how amazing she truly is. I want to <b>give </b><b>her </b>everything, including a new me<b>, </b><b>a </b>better and more improved <b>version</b>. The version who is better <b>at </bmunication and listening. She deserves a mate who will <b>just </b>sit in <b>awe </b><b>of </b>her and let her be <b>exactly </b>who she <b>is</b>.
All I want is another chance <b>even </b>when I <b>have </b>had so many. But I’ve learned, I have grown and I am ready to alpha up and be everything she needs. Including <b>a </b><b>hero </b>or <b>a sacrifice to </b><b>ensure </b>she <b>gets </b><b>away </b>from the assholes who <b>have </b>her.
<b>“</b>Merikh,” <b>Hayes </b>hollers out my name, running toward me. Panic <b>is </b>written all over his <b>face </b>as he stops in front of me and my stomach drops.
<b>“</b>What <b>is </b>wrong<b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b><b>ask</b><b>, </b>swallowing the lump in my throat. “Did something happen?”
“<b>Caspian </b><b>received </b><b>a </b><b>box </b>that was sent for you,” He <b>says</b>.
I give him <b>a </b>confused <b>stare</b>.
<b>“</b><b>And</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b><b>ask</b><b>.</b>
Hayes clears his throat and looks <b>away </b>before he exhales and shakes his head.
“It is<b>…</b><b>it </b>smells of her.” He mutters, unable to look at me.
“It smells like Colette<b>?</b><b>” </b>I <b>ask</b>, my <b>heart </b>skipping a beat.
<b>“</b><b>Yes</b>,” he mutters<b>. </b>“It smells like her blood.”
He clears his throat, and it <b>feels </b>like the world shakes beneath my feet. My mouth falls open to say something articte, alpha like, but instead a shocked, pained groan tumbles out.
Then I break into <b>a </b>sprint, tearing through the garden, bounding over the pristine green bushes and breaking through the door. The second I hit the hallway to the kitchen, I freeze, picking up the faint scent of her blood.
Bile <b>rises </b>in my throat, my lycan howling and hiding in the back of my mind, too heartbroken at the possibility of what this might mean. I clear my throat, running both hands through my hair <b>as </b>I suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst.
<b>If </b><b>it </b>is confirmation she is dead, then I will stop at nothing to kill every fucking dragon and the <bst </b>standing phoenix before allowing myself to meet her in the moonbeams.
“Merikh…” Caspian <b>says </b><b>as </b>I walk into the room, unable to remain calm as my hands shake, pointing to the small box on the table.
<b>“</b><b>Is </b>that <b>it</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b>ask him and <b>he </b><b>nods</b><b>.</b>
My fingers tremble <b>as </b><b>I </b>take the little box<b>, </b><b>a </b><b>streak </b>of blood on the outside, and tear open the top. As I pull the ps open, her sweet scent flows out, bringing <b>tears </b><b>to </b>my eyes when I see <b>a </b>ribbon tied around a chunk of her soft hair. I lift it out, holding it to my nose and inhaling as my <b>eyes </b><b>fall </b>closed, relishing this little <b>piece </b>of <b>her</b>.
Then <b>I </b><b>ce </b>it to the side and look <b>at </b>the phone in the box with a small envelope sitting next to it. I grab the white paper and pull out a small note <b>card</b>, staring <b>at </b>it.
<b>“</b><b>What </b>does <b>it </b><b>say</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>Caspian </b><b>asks</b>, his <b>voice </b>shaking.
*4362 here <b>is </b><b>a </b>little <b>surprise </b><b>for </b><b>you</b><b>,</b><b>” </b><b>I </b><b>read</b>, cing it to the <b>side </b><b>as </b><b>I </b>pull out the phone and <b>a </b>lock <b>screen </b>pops up.
“What does that <b>mean</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>Caspian </b>asks<b>, </b><b>picking </b>up the <b>card </b>written in his daughter’s blood.
“It’s the passcode.” I mutter as I <b>type </b>it <b>in </b>and it <b>opens </b><b>to </b>the video screen.
Everything fades <b>away</b><b>, </b>my <b>heart </b>the only sound <b>I </b><b>can </b><b>hear </b><b>as </b>it <b>raps </b>away in my chest, my lungs squeezing like there is no air to be found. I wanted to see her, get <b>my </b>eyes on her, <b>to </b><b>at </b>least see she is <b>alive</b><b>. </b><b>But </b>this is <b>worse</b>, so much worse than I imagined.
<b>“</b>Alpha<b>!</b>” <b>Hayes </b>screams and I <b>turn </b><b>my </b>head to look at him<b>, </b>blinking <b>as </b>I try to process the video <b>screen </b><b>I </b><b>can’t </b>bring <b>myself </b>to hit <b>y </b>on.
“What is it?” <b>Caspian </b>asks, reaching <b>for </b><b>the </b>phone. He takes it and I don’t fight him as he gulps <b>and </b>closes his <b>eyes </b>like he is fighting <b>off tears</b>.
<b>1/3</b>
<b>“</b><b>We </b>need to watch <b>it</b>.” <b>I </b>mutter<b>, </b>walking toward the massive living <b>room</b><b>.</b>
“I <b>can’t</b><b>…</b><b>” </b>Caspian <b>says </b>and I look over at him, his <b>face </b><b>as </b>white <b>as </b>a mountaintop mid winter<b>.</b>
“<b>Hayes</b><b>, </b>figure out how <b>to </b><b>have </b>it on the screen.” <b>I </b>grumble, dropping into the couch preparing myself <b>for </b>the worst but also reminding myself I need <b>to </b>see this. I have <b>to </b>look for clues, find something to <b>discover </b>where she is.
“You want <b>to </b>watch it on that thing<b>?</b><b>” </b>Caspian <b>sneers</b><b>, </b>pacing <b>over </b>to me and standing in the <b>way</b>. “What the hell is wrong with you?<b>”</b>
<b>“</b>Everything.” I grumble, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees. <b>“</b>Everything is fucking wrong when she isn’t with me.”
<b>“</b><b>Are </b>you trying <b>to </b>punish yourself? Is that <b>what </b>this <b>is</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>He <b>asks</b><b>, </b>confused, and I scoff.
“No, I am watching it <b>because </b><b>if </b>she <b>has </b>to live <b>it</b>, then I should have <b>to </b><b>as </b>well. We need to know what they are doing to her. I need to see it so I can return the fucking favor to them.” I look up <b>at </b>him. “There could be clues about where she is,” Hayes <b>also </b><b>says</b>, and I know I can always rely on him to know why <b>I </b>am doing things<b>.</b>
“Shit,” Caspian mutters, then he walks over to the other side of the couch and plops down. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
Hayes looks at me once he has the TV on and the phone screen sharing. The image of Colette is right before me. The little y button obstructed nothing but that barrier in my mind, screaming ‘<b>I </b>can’t do this‘. But I have to.This content ? N?v/elDr(a)m/a.Org.
“Hit <b>y</b><b>.</b>” I tell him.
Suddenly there she is, my <b>perfect</b>, beautiful little luna. Her face <b>is </b>sunken, her glow gone, but she is still as beautiful <b>as </b>she always is. It is clear they <b>are </b>starving her, giving her minimal liquids<b>, </b>probably because they <b>are </b>afraid of what she can do.
<b>“</b><b>Say </b>it,” a voice off <b>screen </b>says forcefully. Colette looks up at the person and rolls her eyes. Then she looks directly at the camera.
“Fuck yourself.” She says, a small smirk on her chapped and bloody lips. A thrill of pride ripples through me, but it <b>is </b>short–lived.
“Suit yourself.” The woman says <b>as </b>she steps forward and lifts a metal bar.
I stand, growling at the screen as the woman swings it and ms it into her stomach, making the wind wheeze from my chest. I fall to my knees, my <b>eyes </b>watering and my body quivering with anger and no outlet.
Colette cries out in pain, her head falling forward as she struggles to suck in a full breath. All I can hear is herbored breathing that sounds like a <b>heavy </b>wheeze, and my chest is torn wide open. I love how strong she has be mentally, but I need her to give in, to stop herself from being a smart ass when she is on the line.
“<b>Just </b>say it, love,” I whisper, finding myself moving closer to the screen. “Just fucking say what they want.”
Another <b>scream </b>breaks through the TV speakers and I look at Colette, who <b>is </b>silent and unmoving. She lifts her fiery <b>gaze </b>to someone off <b>screen </b>and she fights against her restraints.
<b>“</b><b>Leave </b>her alone<b>!</b><b>” </b>She <b>wails</b>. <b>“</b><b>I </b>will say it, okay? <b>I </b>will say it. Please, just don’t hurt Melody anymore<b>.”</b>
The woman saunters <b>back </b>in, moving behind Colette and cing her hands on her shoulders, digging her nails into <b>her </b>skin <b>as </b>she bleeds through
<b>her </b>shirt.
“I warned you<b>, </b><b>every </b>time <b>you </b><b>resist </b><b>I </b>will <b>just </b>torture your <b>dear </b>little mommy.”
<b>My </b><b>eyes </b><b>grow </b><b>wide </b>and I <b>try </b><b>to </b><b>recall </b><b>what </b>Giselle had said before the meeting went up in mes.
<b>“</b><b>What</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>Caspian </b><b>gasps</b><b>, </b>and I look <b>over </b>to find him next to me. “Melody is <b>really </b>alive? I thought they were lying. That they <b>were </b>trying to evoke an emotional <b>response </b>and catch me off guard.”
“I’m sorry<b>.</b>” Colette whispers<b>, </b><b>tears </b><b>on </b>her cheek as she looks mournfully off the screen. “<b>I </b>will say it now. I promise<b>.</b><b>”</b>
“Then get <b>it </b>over with <b>already</b>, your highness<b>.</b><b>” </b>The bitch <b>says </b>in
annoyance.
“Merikh.<b>” </b>Colette whispers, looking directly into my <b>soul</b><b>, </b><b>pain </b>in <b>her </b><b>eyes </b><b>as </b>she struggles to <b>breathe </b><b>still</b>. “<b>If </b>you want me<b>, </be and get me. War <b>is </b>on the horizon<b>, </b><b>a </b><b>barrage </b>of <b>fire </b>and <b>death </b><b>is </bing <b>via </b>the <b>sky </b>and you must choose. <b>Me</b><b>, </b>or our kind-”
<b>A </b>fist connects with her <b>ear </b>and her <b>head </b><b>snaps </b>to the <b>left</b><b>, </b><b>a </b>whimper breaking from her lips.
<b>I </b><b>growl </b>again, my fists <b>balled </b><b>up </b>and creaking as my bones ache from the <b>pressure</b><b>. </b>This fucking bitch is going <b>to</b>
slow and painful death.
<b>“</b>His kind, not yours. You <b>are </b>not the same breed<b>.</b>” The woman hisses.
“Me or all of <b>lycan </b>and <b>werewolf </b>kind.” Colette whispers.
<b>2/3</b>
The <b>video </b><b>cuts </b>off, leaving us all in stunned silence.
3/3
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