Pack's Runt

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

After nights of uncompleted rest, I woke up well-slept, warm under the covers and with no painful headache.

One of my greatest worries was gone—Gerald. He wouldn't come here again as nothing would lead him here. Soon enough, he'd understand I had died somewhere in the national forest while fleeing the attack on the pack and after that, his life mission would change.

During the last few days at my old home, with my dad and Gerald, I recalled being tormented being by him, day and night. He'd call me everything from his evil dictionary, everything that deemed me unworthy. He'd force me to do things I didn't want to do, burn my hands, set my clothes on fire, force me to the healers, degrade me in front of his friends till they laughed to where they couldn't even breathe.

Once thrown out, I lived on the streets for months and months, begged both dad and Gerald to let me stay with them, but they didn't accept me.

A runt.

Nicholas' house was heavily guarded. Wherever I went, someone was trailing me today, which made me assume he wasn't here. Thank god. It was better if he had other things to do than to grab me out of bed and force me outside with himself.

My shoes clicked over the marble flooring of the kitchen as I entered. Behind my shoulders, I could sense a guard watching me carefully. The smell of food was lingering in the air. My stomach grumbled, and I reached in for whatever could come into my hands.

A chicken sandwich. For breakfast? Not that I had another option.

I washed it down with some tea before leaving the kitchen. My intentions were to return upstairs and stay there as he had told me to do so, but my thoughts diverted elsewhere when I climbed up the stairs and there wasn't anyone behind me.

Not one guard.

A smile crept on my face. I went past my bedroom, going straight ahead into the room at the end of the hallway, which was the only one shut. There were many more rooms, but only one piqued my interest.

My fingers reached to the door, and I pushed it back.

It opened.

Nicholas' room.

My eyes lingered over the dark furnishing and the slightly opened curtains, which let some of the morning light into the room of death. My body became taut. It was the first time I was inside a man's bedroom, let alone a man's house—a man who had touched me.

There was excitement rushing in my veins, and some desires until my gaze fell on the black table by the large wall.

My bracelet glimmered at me.

Stealer.

I parted my lips and quickly rushed toward the table to grab it and keep it. I had been finding for it, and all this time, Nicholas had it and he didn't even tell me. He knew it meant something to me.

My fingers went around it, but before I had the chance to take it, someone else did.

A gasp left my throat as I turned to find Nicholas' large frame only an inch away from mine. His gaze darkened. "What did I tell you about wandering around?" he asked, holding my bracelet in his hold now. "Do you not listen? Or do you find it simply better to disobey what I say?"

"You took my bracelet—" I stuttered out.

"And I'll keep it." 

My mouth lined straight while I gave him a long stare. It was going to be difficult to pry it off his hands. Surely, there was something else I could do. The bracelet meant everything to me—everything.