Kayla couldn't breathe. She felt like the walls were closing in on her. Near hyperventilating, she bent over and drew in deep breaths as Marcus came running towards her.
Her foster parents both had a deep cut in different places and the Alpha had half his brains on the stretcher. Kayla felt the food in her stomach turn over itself.
Was this a dream?
Rachael immediately turned around and tried blocking Kayla from witnessing the gruesome sight but she had seen it already as the men passed by and quickly entered a room, shutting the door behind them.
"Kayla." Marcus arrived and grabbed her.
He shook her awake but Kayla was lost in her panic.
Marcus tore open her sweater like it was paper and then screamed, "Breathe Kayla. Breathe."
He looked up at Rachael and asked, "Where are they?"
She pointed at the room where they had moved them and Marcus nodded.
He placed Kayla against the wall and headed towards the room bellowing one last order at Rachael before he disappeared into the room, "Take her upstairs, and don't leave till she's better!"
It was three hours since her foster parents were rushed into the house. Two hours and twenty-five minutes since they gave up the ghost. The whole house was eerily quiet and the silence was so thick you could slice through it yet she just sat on the bed —numb.
She couldn't believe they were dead, that they could die. They seemed —untouchable.
How could they die?
She kept waiting and waiting for her stepmother to come to tell her it was all a stupid prank and she should get that gloomy look off her face and pass her a brush but nothing was happening.
No one was saying anything. No one knocked on the door. No one came.
It wasn't a prank. They were truly gone.
It had been two weeks since the passing of their parents but nothing had really changed. The house was as quiet as everyone kept to themselves.
Of course, the workers were excited but no one dared show it for they feared what Marcus would do to them. He had taken right after his parents' ways and would not hesitate to kill anyone who defiled his parents' image.
Marcus had taken up the role of Alpha two days after and he wasn't having it easy. He had known how tough being an Alpha was but he didn't know it was this complicated.
The door to his office opened and he raised his eyes lazily to find Rachael standing with her head bowed. The sight of him brought pain to her heart.
He looked so shabby. His shirt was unbuttoned and ruffled with his tie loosened. His eyes were sunk in and he had dark circles around them. It was obvious he had not had any sleep for days.
There were papers scattered across the table with a half-empty whiskey bottle. He looked at Rachael, and she saw the stress on his face. This was not the Marcus she knew.
The pain was eating him up.
She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be fine, but she feared for her own life.
"How's Kayla holding up?" Marcus suddenly asked her.
And then like magic, it clicked in her head. If the two of them could talk to each other, their pain would go away faster.
"She hasn't spoken to anyone since the incident and she barely touches her meal sir," Rachael quickly blurted out, hoping this would trigger him to go talk to his sister.
Now that the Alpha was gone it was his duty as the son to carry on the title which meant she had to accord him as much respect as possible. Though younger than the previous Alpha, Marcus had the same resolve and was as menacing as he was.
Rachael couldn't push him into doing it but she could use her words and that was what she was doing.
"Why hasn't she been eating?" Marcus hissed out as he glared at Rachael. "And why are you just telling me about it now?"
The tone of his voice made Rachael jump in fear. She swallowed her fear and whispered, "she asked me not to tell you."
Marcus knew this much was true. Kayla had been crying a lot and he should have been there for her —but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
He sighed.
Kayla.
He wanted to be there for her so badly but he was also in a mess. He wasn't in the right mental state to fully comfort anyone. What could he tell her that would make her feel better when he wasn't well himself?
"Get me another bottle of whiskey," he bellowed dismissively with a wave of his hand.
Rachael looked at the half-filled bottle of whiskey on the table. Next to it was an empty bottle. She raised her head to differ but the look in his eyes slammed her words right back into her throat. She walked out and was back with a new bottle in thirty seconds. She dropped it scrupulously and headed back out.
Marcus groaned.
What was he doing? He should be with Kayla and not here...
He stood up, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and walked straight to Kayla's room. Getting there he stood facing the door and contemplated on knocking or just barging in like he usually did.
"Fuck this," he groaned and then knocked gently.
"The door is opened," a soft voice called from within and his heart skipped a beat.
He opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him.
The room smelt like flowers and he could feel the tension in his chest loosen. He darted his eyes to Kayla and he inhaled sharply.
She was putting on a white shirt that she had rolled up to her elbow with a green flare skirt to compliment it.
She had her hair down and it lay beautifully on her waist as she moved her fingers up and down the canvas. His eyes traveled down her legs to her feet as she stood on her toes gently before kissing the ground with her beautiful sole.
She turned around and Marcus saw that the top part of her shirt was unbuttoned revealing the cleavage of her curvaceous breasts.
"Hello Marcus," she greeted.
"Hey," Marcus replied.
"You knocked," she remarked with a smile.
She caught him staring at her breasts and she pursed her mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. She noticed a slow blush that crept on his cheeks as he instinctively put down the bottle hiding his face.
Shivers traveled to her bare feet and she swallowed hard as she waited for him to reply.
"I didn't want to barge in on you," he paused. "...Unclothed."
The silence followed them after their intense eye contact.