Mated, Engaged, and In Love With Three Different Wolves

4: The Last Night

Chapter Four: The Last Night

It's late in the afternoon when someone knocks on my door. I haven't come out since I came in here after the meeting. I actually fell asleep for awhile, and I really don't want to talk to anyone.

He turns the knob, only to find it locked. "Diana," Dad says wearily. I don't answer. I don't want to talk. I don't have a say in anything anyway. He jiggles the doorknob, losing what little patience he has. "Open the door," he says sternly.

I do not move as I contemplate my options.

1. Not open the d-

"Diana!" He snaps in the Alpha Tone.

I jump off the bed, quickly deciding that I don't want to die after all, and just open it. My father's broad frame takes up most of the doorway.

I take a deep breath. "What is it?" I ask.

"Do you want to go see your friends?" He asks.

"I don't want to see anybody."

"That's fine, but when I say to open the door, you need to open it immediately. Understand?"

I nod, fighting the urge to cower back.

"I have been informed that you have not eaten all day," he says.

Oh my god, of course he's been informed. But why? Why did some asshole decide to tell him this? They're all running around protecting the grounds and all of a sudden, Oh my god, Alpha, your daughter hasn't eaten in, like, twelve hours. She's totally fine, but I just thought you should know. Haven't snitched on her in a while.

This time I roll my eyes and even groan a little. "It doesn't matter. I'm not hungry."

He crosses his large arms. "Too bad. You need to eat," he says firmly.

"Really, I'm not even hungry. I just want to lie down. I don't feel well." It isn't a lie. I don't feel well, but it is not physical.

"Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"

"No, I don't think so, but-" Then his hands are on my face, checking my temperature. "Dad." I try to push him away. He places his hand on my lower back to keep me from moving away as he pats my neck. His eyes are serious as he tries to determine what's normal for me compared to his 108 degree average temperature. I sigh as he keeps me still.

"Dad, I don't have a-"

"You don't have a fever," he concludes.

"Yeah, thanks, I know."

"What's the problem then? Why aren't you eating?"

"It's not - I just - UGH. I just don't want to do anything right now. I'm just going to go lie down. Probably listen to music."

I start to turn away, but he swiftly catches my wrist in his large hand. "Diana, are you alright?" His dark eyes watch me carefully.

"Yes," I insist impatiently as I try to push his hand off my arm. Of course, my actions go unnoticed and (as always) completely ineffective.

"You need to come downstairs for a while."

I look at him pleadingly.

"Just get something to eat. Talk to some people. I don't want you to be alone all the time."

"I'm not."

"Come on." He tugs me into the hallway. "There are a few more things we can go over."