How long had it last been since Roselia heard of his name? Atticus was as poetic as his name implied. Three years ago, the name clenched her chest and stung. Now, it was every other syllable in the alphabet.
Atticus.
Roselia remembered the first time she met him, she struggled to say his name. She'd call him "attic" and he'd call her Rose, laughing at the idea of a flower grown in an attic. Though, she never understood that reference.
"Can I get dressed?" Roselia finally said, hugging her towel tight to her body, but the droplets had dried onto her skin. She wasn't naked, but he eyed her like the towel didn't exist. Her stomach churned as he pressed his lips together.
Cruden stepped back and gestured for her to go. She ran so fast, her feet thudded as loud as her heart. Minutes passed and she stumbled out of her closet, fully dressed, her dripping hair wrapped in a large cocoon on top of her head. His lips twitched in amusement, whilst he folded his arms across his chest.
This innocent wife of his was trying her hardest to stand her ground. Cute. Even a child wouldn't be frightened by her.
"Now that you've given my suggestion some thought, what is your answer?" His tone was short and clipped, doing nothing to her spiked anxiety.
Roselia expected him to realize she was simply buying time. He was a strategic and heartless Alpha who always got what he wanted. Someway. Somehow. With or without Kallum's aid as Beta.
"You wouldn't be fully removing the scar," Roselia mumbled, glancing at her down. "You'd simply replace Atticus's mark with your own."
Cruden quirked a sharp brow at her words. He was impressively neutral, each action deliberate and noteworthy. He knew how to hide his irritation and keep her away from his darker side, even as the air between them strained.
"Better mine than Atticus," Cruden said. "Mine would protect you better than he ever could."
Roselia jolted. Cold amusement flickered on his face, as if it entertained him that he knew this fact. "We're done with this conversation. Please leave."
Cruden's features grew aloof. Warmth fled his pupils. Icicles dangled from corners of her room, the temperature dipping with his displeasure.
"You're going to kick me out of the room in a house I own?" Cruden deadpanned.
"Fine, I'll leave." Roselia brushed past him for the door. He gripped her wrist. Tight. His fingers were warm, his boiled blood reminding her to curb her tongue. If this was Alpha Kerpan, he'd smack her across the face. At the least, Cruden hadn't struck her. Yet.
"Stay." Cruden sharply exhaled, his mouth set to a straight line. "I'll go."
Cruden stormed out of the room. She expected the loud bang of the doors that'd shake the walls and split the foundation. Instead, he left the doors wide open, forcing her to inconvenience herself and close it.
Roselia didn't understand his silent rage. She had grown up free from the anger of her brother and father who pampered her in exchange for limited freedom. She'd have all the dresses and jewels in the world, but never the chance to stroll the streets and show them off.
On the rare occasion when Roselia crossed a line, her father would yell and throw furniture. Those were the days Roselia pretended never happened. Those were the nights she'd cower and cry until the room was a smashed mess as if a hurricane tore through every corner. The next day, her father would bring her favorite food and candy in an attempt to apologize.
Why can't Cruden just do the same? Why can't he smash the furniture and apologize the next day? She'd prefer a violent fury. Violence was predictable. The sting was harsh, but predictable.
A man with nothing to lose and raged in silence?
Now, that was terrifying.
- - - - -
"Are you alright?" Roselia found herself asking the maid one sunny morning. The familiar woman returned without a single bruise or bandage, but there were cuts on her shaking hands.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did…" Roselia hesitated. "Did Kallum do this to you?" she pointed to the healed wounds.
"The Beta bestowed upon me the best judgment for this pack," the maid responded, her hardened expression implying she didn't agree with the words she said.
Roselia frowned. Her heart grew heavy, falling to her stomach. She bowed her head in shame, understanding the poor maid suffered for something neither woman could've prevented.
"I'm sorry," Roselia said, placing her half-eaten sandwich down. Her throat was getting scratchy, and she coughed at the awkward silence in the air. The tension was thick. "You didn't deserve this."
"Please eat, ma'am," the maid emotionlessly said, her pupils dark as her hair. There wasn't a single light left inside of her. "The Alpha wouldn't be pleased if you do not finish your food."
Roselia's breath hitched. She wondered what else they'd do to this innocent woman. She quickly gobbled down her food in silence, but found it incredibly hard to swallow. She suppressed another cough, despite her chest growing tight, and her face reddening.
"Are you alright?" the maid asked, but her voice continued to lack emotion.
Roselia wondered what kind of sickening punishment this was. To assign her the same maid the first day she entered this place. To assign her the maid that was tortured because the Tiberias brothers thought she poisoned Roselia. She heaved, but quickly gobbled down the green smoothie next to her. That didn't help the lump in her throat.
Roselia began to cough rapidly, as if something was stuck in her airways. She heaved, smacking at her chest. She could feel her lungs contradict, but never expand. She was suffocating on air itself, her eyes getting watery and her vision blurring.
"I said," the maid approached with a sinister smile. "Are you alright?"
Did she look alright?!
"W-what…" Roselia caved, buckling over and gripping the collar of her shirt. She gasped and reached for the maid for assistance.
The maid stomped on Roselia's hand. She dug her heels painfully into her fingers, angrily twisting her shoes. Roselia winced at the agony of the torture, attempting to pull her hand back.
"You shouldn't be alright," the maid sneered. She furiously kick Roselia in the chest, causing her to flinch and buckle into a ball. "I'm not done yet."
Roselia opened her mouth in an attempt to speak. To scream. A silent wheeze came out as if her tongue couldn't move. Black dots filled her vision, but she refused to go down without a fight. She threw herself onto the ground, taking her vanity chair with her.
A rough thud echoed in the room as Roselia kicked at the chair in an attempt to gather herself. She couldn't. She was starting to fall into darkness.
"I'm sorry as well," the maid suddenly confessed, kneeling over Roselia, gripping her face. "I should ruin this pretty little face of yours."
Finally, a hint of emotion filled the maid's expression.
Bliss.
Relief.
Roselia squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to scream, but she couldn't. She couldn't control her limbs. She was turning purple and blue, her entire body trembling. The last thing she heard was the maid's confession.
"If they were going to torture a loyal servant for a crime I didn't commit," the maid sneered. "Then I should've just poisoned you. A payback for the punishment, don't you think?"
Payback.
The word echoed in Roselia's mind as her body went slack.
This was payback.