Fighting

The first thing that hit me was a deep, aching pain that throbbed all through my body. It wasn't just a surface ache, it felt like my very bones were heavy and bruised.

Then came a chilling coldness, a damp feeling that settled deep into my skin. A faint, constant buzzing sound filled my ears, like a trapped bee trying to get out.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt like heavy stones, glued shut. My head spun, a dizzy, confusing feeling that kept pulling me back down into the dark.

I fought against the heavy darkness, forcing myself to try again. Slowly, a blurry light peeked through. It was soft and gentle, not the harsh bright glare of the wedding hall.

My vision cleared little by little, like muddy water slowly becoming still and clear. I saw a ceiling, plain and made of wood, nothing like the grand, painted ceiling of the great hall.

I was lying on a bed, a very soft one, with thick, warm blankets pulled up to my chin. The comfort of it was strange, almost shocking after so many nights on a hard cot.

A cool hand touched my forehead. My mind was still fuzzy, struggling to make sense of things. Who was there? Was it Lara?

"Lara?" I managed to whisper, but the word was barely a breath, lost in the quiet of the room.

It felt like my throat was rough, like it was filled with dry sand.

Suddenly, a huge hand, probably the same one from before, was on my back, strong and steady. It helped me sit up. I leaned into it, too weak to fight, too desperate for help.

My head swam with the sudden movement, but the person held me firm.

He held a cup to my lips giving me water.My throat, so dry and tight, drank greedily. It was as if I hadn't truly tasted water in weeks, maybe even months. I kept drinking, letting the cool liquid wash away the dryness, a small wave of calm spreading through my burning chest.

When I finally pulled away from the cup, a deep voice, one I didn't know well, rumbled from above me. "Are you alright?"

I paused for a second, confused. Who was this person? My mind was still a mess, trying to understand everything. The voice was deep and powerful. It didn't sound like any of the healers or guards I knew. I tried to place it, but my memory was still tangled.

The wedding, the endless walk,the vows, then the sudden fall. The sharp shock of remembering hit me like a cold wave. The wedding. My collapse.

My eyes snapped open all the way, finally focusing on the face close to mine. My breath caught in my throat. It was him. Elias. The Alpha. His eyes, dark as night and sharp as a blade, watched me closely.

There was no softness in them, no pity, just a cold, hard look that seemed to study my very soul. His face showed nothing, blank as a stone, as always. But I could see a hint of something, a spark of annoyance, perhaps, behind the coldness.

"Yes," I replied, my voice still weak and raspy, but a new spark of defiance lit up inside me. So, he was here. And I was alive. My risky plan had worked.

Elias leaned back slightly, his huge body still filling the space around the bed. His presence was so strong it felt like the air itself was heavier. His voice was low, deep, and went straight to the point, leaving no room for polite small talk. "Do you think it's fun to starve yourself, little Sect princess?"

My brow furrowed. "Excuse me?" I asked, completely confused by his words. Fun? Did he truly think I had chosen this, that I was playing some kind of game?

The sheer nerve of him! My body was screaming, aching from days of doing this to myself on purpose, a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. "Fun?" I repeated, a bitter taste in my mouth.

His eyes narrowed further, a hint of something dangerous in their depths.

"Don't pretend you don't know. You collapse at your own wedding, right in front of everyone, after days of refusing food. What do you expect me to think? That it's an accident? A coincidence?" There was a cold, mocking sound in his voice, a faint sneer that made my blood run cold. He thought I was faking it, playing some weak female trick.

My confusion quickly turned into a cold, burning anger. How dare he accuse me, after everything I'd been put through by his Pack? By his people! The anger fueled a sudden rush of courage. "It's not my fault that your staff fed me scraps!" The words burst out before I could stop them, powered by that rush of fury and the lasting bitterness of the past days. My weakness made me bold, unafraid of his power.

He blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise in his dark eyes. It was quick, but I saw it. "What?" His voice was sharper now, losing its mocking tone, replaced by something like disbelief.

"Yes, you heard me!" I shot back, my voice gaining a surprising strength from my anger. My whole body trembled, but the words kept coming. "Who would eat the dog food you served me? Or the stale bread? Not even a horse would eat that!"

The image of the bland, tasteless slop, the small, hard, dry pieces of bread, and the rotten fruits flashed in my mind.

The memory ignited my fury, and for a moment, I forgot my pain. My stomach churned, not from hunger now, but from deep disgust. I could almost taste the watery broth, the rotten vegetables.

His face hardened. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "What do you mean you were served scrap and stale bread?" His voice was low, dangerous now, holding a threat.

"Exactly what I said!" I retorted, my chin lifting in defiance, despite the dizziness that threatened to pull me back down. My body might be weak, barely able to sit up, but my spirit was still very much alive. I would not back down now.

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face, as if trying to find a lie. Then, a harsh, mocking laugh burst from his chest. It was a cold, cruel sound, without any real humor, filled with disbelief.

"So now my people are the ones who are starving you? Is that what you mean? You think we were trying to kill you? That I ordered them to starve my own mate?"

I looked at him, truly annoyed.

His laughter made my blood boil, sending a hot flush through my cold veins. He thought this was funny? He thought I was making this up, playing a trick? My eyes, I knew, must be blazing with anger and exhaustion, even behind the veil of weakness.

"Or," I said, my voice cutting through his laughter, sharp and clear, "maybe you are the one who did it?"

His laughter stopped immediately. His face, which had been mocking, now twisted into annoyance, then something darker. He looked truly offended, as if I had spoken a great insult to his face. His eyes, usually so controlled, showed a flicker of raw anger.

"Maybe it is you," I continued, pushing my point, finding a strange satisfaction in the look on his face. He ran this Pack. He was the Alpha. Everything that happened here, every order given, came from him or was approved by him.

"I mean, you rule them. And they take orders from you. So maybe you told them to serve me those scraps as food, because you knew I wouldn't eat them." My voice was filled with a chilling certainty.

"I didn't…" he started, his voice hard, filled with a sudden fury. He seemed ready to unleash a wave of anger, but I cut him off, a sudden, chilling understanding dawning on me. The pieces clicked into place, a dark puzzle solved.

"Now I understand," I said, a grim triumph in my voice, despite the pain that gripped me. My mind was clearer than it had been in days. "Now I understand why you never came to the dining hall." My gaze locked onto his, a challenge in my eyes. "You were the one behind it all."