#Chapter4
Aleera POV
For three days, I sat in this cell. No one came except one man. He brought me a bottle of water and some bread, but that was it. Every morning is like clockwork. They hated me, but I didn’t care; the feeling was mutual. Yet, despite my hatred for the men that killed my family, I didn’t think they would do this to me. Yes, I ran, but I had a good reason for not being with them. Did they honestly think I would go running into the arms of my parents’ murderers?
I should have chosen the werewolves. At least I wouldn’t have suffered this misery. Stupid mistake, Aleera. I was fucking stupid for calling on them. Hearing the steel door groan as it opened, I looked over to see the man of the morning. He walked over, his back ramrod straight. He bent down, placing a metal plate on the ground that held three slices of bread.
/"Are you trying to anger them?/" he asked, speaking for the first time in three days. It speaks! I thought dryly. I was beginning to wonder if he was mute and was waiting for him to bust out some miming. It would have been nice to have some entertainment. He growled when I ignored him. He growled like some savage, making my head turn to glare at him.
If he weren’t one of my mate’s minions, I would have appreciated the conversation. But since he was also helping hold me captive, I couldn’t care less about his words. He had brown hair to his shoulders and even darker pitch-black eyes. His scent told me he was a were-fae; he had Lycan blood running through his system. That and the black eyes were a dead giveaway.
They looked nearly as eerie as Darius, but nothing made my blood run colder than Darius’s demonic eyes. I blinked at him before turning back to the wall that had captured my attention, and I continued to count the bricks on the wall; it had become some kind of game—that and counting the smears of blood.
/"You are asking for trouble. Just be happy they let you live. Not eating will anger them, and if you don’t eat or drink soon, I will be forced to tell Darius,/" he said. The man didn’t look that old, maybe in his late twenties, around my mates’ ages. His tone revealed that he thought I was some naive girl who ran into trouble and was brought here on a whim.
/"Answer me, goddammit. If I have to go up there and tell them, they will probably order me to kill you, so please eat. I don’t want to be responsible for your death. I have enough blood on my hands,/" he muttered the last part more to himself, staring at his clean hands like he could see the blood that stained them.
/"Death, now that sounds appealing. Bring on the grim reaper,/" I told him.
/"I am being serious. They… they will hurt you. Do you have any idea who they are? What Darius is capable of?/" he asked.
/"What’s your name?/" I asked him.
/"How can she still not know?/" I thought I heard him mutter.
/"After three days now, you choose to speak to me. Were you told not to talk to me?/" I asked, and he looked away. So… he had been told not to converse with the enemy, I chuckled to myself.
/"What’s so funny?/" he asked before chucking a water bottle at me. The bottle rolled across the ground, and I was almost tempted to drink it. I licked my cracked, dry lips, my tongue so dry it felt like sandpaper. My throat was raw, but if they intended to keep me here forever, I would rather starve to death and put myself out of my misery. I was doing well so far. Nearly seven days total without food, three days without water.
It shouldn’t be too much longer if I could hold out a little longer. Thirst would kill me quicker than starvation, and I guessed that if it were hot down here, dehydration would have killed me by now. But it turned out it was like an igloo down here, so it was taking a little longer than I had predicted. Lucky me, I thought bitterly.
/"Nothing. You worry about telling Darius. I find it funny, is all,/" I told him.
/"Why would that be funny? They will kill you. No, they will force me to do it, and that’s worse./"
/"Why is that worse?/"
/"Because I don’t want to, that is why. You may have a death wish, but I don’t like killing people. I have seen enough people die, and I am not someone who enjoys killing./"
I snorted before coughing on my laugh. /"You hate killing people, but you are a were-fae. They love hunting and slaughtering. I was almost dog food before they brought me here./"
/"I am not a monster, and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be down here with you. So, please drink at least, so I don’t have to tell them. I would rather you stayed down here and away from everyone than up there with—/" He didn’t finish what he was going to say; instead, he looked toward the door.
/"How about you tell them I am eating and drinking like a good evil minion, and they will be none the wiser?/" I told him, rolling my eyes.
/"I can’t do that when they ask every day about you, so if you die and they find you, they will blame me for not telling them./"
/"Instead of asking you, they could check for themselves, so run back to your master,/" I told him, shooing him away with my hand, the movement taking way too much energy than it should.
/"You have no idea. I warned you,/" he said, rushing out. I sighed, reaching for the drink bottle and tossing it through the bars so I wouldn’t be tempted to drink it.