ZALE'S POV;
The food arrived within minutes, the clatter of plates and utensils snapping me out of my thoughts. "Alpha," the maids said in unison, bowing as they entered the room. They moved swiftly, setting the table with practiced grace, not a single motion wasted. Normally, they would remain to serve the entire meal, standing nearby in case anything was needed. That's how it had always been—order, routine, control. But today, I sensed something different.
Amora.
She was sitting across from me, her eyes downcast, her body tense. The maids' presence seemed to agitate her, heightening the discomfort she was trying hard to mask. She was still adjusting to everything, and I needed her to be at ease here. She would get used to it in time—eventually, she would have to. But not now.
"You can leave," I said, dismissing the maids with a wave of my hand.
They hesitated for a second, their brows furrowing as if confused by the sudden break in protocol. But they didn't question me. They bowed and left the room, their footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
As the door closed, I turned my attention back to Amora. She was still standing, her hands clenched at her sides. Why was she so hesitant? It was just breakfast. I needed her to sit down and eat, to start regaining her strength. But there she stood, as if frozen in place.
"Sit down, Amora," I said, my voice firm yet tempered with a softness I didn't often use. I wanted her to listen, but I didn't want to scare her—not any more than I already had.
She blinked, her eyes darting toward me, but still, she didn't move. What was she thinking? Did she expect me to force her? I watched as the wheels in her mind turned, her hesitation frustrating me.
"Amora?" My voice was sharper this time, snapping her out of whatever internal debate she was having. "I don't have all day. Come and eat."
Her head jerked up, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. "So... sorry," she stammered, finally moving toward the chair. She sat down, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Even now, she didn't reach for the food in front of her.
"Amora, eat." I wasn't asking anymore. She needed to take care of herself. But she just sat there, looking at the food as if it might poison her.
Slowly, too slowly, she began to serve herself, the portion she took so small it could barely sustain a child, let alone someone recovering from the kind of trauma she had endured.
"That's not enough," I said, my tone unyielding. "You need to eat more if you want to recover faster."
"I... I'm okay with this," she murmured, her voice almost inaudible. She didn't look at me, couldn't meet my eyes. That bothered me. It wasn't just avoidance—it was fear. She was afraid of me.
Why? I asked myself. Was it because I had brought her here against her will? Was it because she had no idea who I really was, or what my world entailed? I had saved her, yes, but I had also thrust her into an unfamiliar world where everything—everyone—must have seemed strange to her.
She picked at the food, barely taking a few bites before pushing it around her plate. She wasn't eating. Her body was here, but her mind was elsewhere—probably trapped in whatever nightmare she had lived before I found her.
I made a mental note to have the doctor look into her condition. Maybe prescribe something for her appetite. She was malnourished; it was clear from the way her skin clung to her bones, the faintness in her eyes. I couldn't have her like this. Weak. Vulnerable.
"Are you done?" I asked, though it wasn't much of a question. She wasn't going to eat anymore, and I knew it.
She nodded silently, and I let out a small sigh, leaning back in my chair as the maids returned to clear the table. Once they were gone, the room felt smaller, more intimate, the air thick with the unspoken tension between us.
"Now," I began, my voice steady, "let's get to business."
Amora shifted in her seat, her gaze flicking up to meet mine for just a second before falling back to the floor. Then, to my surprise, she spoke.
"Are you going to send me back?" she asked, her voice a mix of hope and dread.
I frowned. "Amora, I told you—you're not going back."
She flinched at the finality in my tone. "But I need to," she insisted, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Everything I have is back there. My life... my friends... school. I don't even know you. I can't stay here with someone I don't know."
Her voice trembled, and I saw it—the fear, the mistrust. She was terrified of me. Of what I might do to her. And those words—I don't even know you—hit me like a punch to the gut.
What if you want to do something bad to me later on...
I clenched my fists under the table, keeping my expression neutral. But inside, her words pierced me like a dagger. How could she think that? After everything I had done, how could she possibly believe I would hurt her?
"Amora," I said, my voice low, almost a growl. "First of all, I will never hurt you. And you'll get to know me in time. But you're not going anywhere. I don't care what you think you left behind. You're staying here."
Her eyes widened in alarm, her fear intensifying. She didn't understand. She couldn't see the danger she was still in. If I let her go now, she would be right back in the nightmare she had escaped from. And I couldn't allow that.
"If I have to use force to keep you here, I will," I added, my tone cold and unyielding. The fear in her eyes deepened, and for a moment, I hated myself for causing it. But this was necessary. She had to stay. For her own good.
"I have some rules," I continued, my voice firm. "And you will follow them."
She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Rules?"
"One: you are not to leave this room without my permission. Two: you will listen to everything I tell you to do. Where you go, what you do—that will all be decided by me. And lastly..." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Don't ever try to escape. If you do, you will regret it."
"This is kidnapping!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Her tears... God, those tears. They weakened me in a way nothing else could. But I couldn't afford to let my emotions get in the way. Not now.
"I'm doing this for you, Amora," I said quietly. "I'm trying to keep you safe."
"From what? From you?" she shot back, her voice full of bitterness.
I stood, my hands clenched at my sides. "No. From the people who hurt you. From a world you don't understand."
She didn't respond, just sat there, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back the tears. I had to walk away before I said something I'd regret. Before I gave in to the part of me that wanted to comfort her.
"I'll send you some books," I said, my voice softening. "The nurse will check on you later."
And with that, I turned and left the room, closing the door behind me. The sound of her quiet sobs echoed in my mind long after I was gone.