Chapter 450
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Four hundred and fifty two
Veronica POV
The first thing I heard when I woke was a beep that pulsed through the silence.
Blurred vision and a throbbing pain in my skull made it almost unbearable to open my eyes. The air I breathed in carried none of the damp stench of the room where I had been trapped for months. I couldn’t smell urine, stale leftovers, or the burnt honey mixture that evil witch Mina forced down my throat every day. Instead, the air carried the scent of medicine and freshly laundered sheets.
My muscles seized, and I kept my eyes shut as my body prepared for the pain I knew would follow. Whenever I woke in that room, I listened for the scrape of the iron deadbolt sliding back, then the footsteps, and then the merciless beatings.
I lay there, my pulse pounding in my chest, waiting for the deadbolt, the footsteps, the first blow.
None of it came.
The beep continued.
I opened my eyes. White ceiling tiles stretched above me, their recessed bulbs casting light across my face. I had forgotten what a normal room looked like.
A tube ran from the back of my left hand to an IV bag hanging from a metal pole beside my bed. Tape held the needle against my skin.
“Veronica p>
A woman called my name. At the foot of my bed stood a nurse in scrubs, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her round face held a smile as she looked down at me.
“I’m so relieved you’re awake p>
She held no silver-tipped whip, and her hands made no move toward my neck. The gentleness in her voice
startled me.
She told me I was at Metropolitan Hospital, in the Creek Keepers pack.
I wasn’t in Iron Wells?
My eyes searched the room frantically for Jake.
My son.
Was he still in that house, crying and waiting for a mother who couldn’t reach him?
I opened my mouth to scream his name, but no sound came out. Not even a cough scraped my throat. My breath escaped through my parted lips, carrying nothing but air.
I tried again, straining my vocal cords. *Jake? Where is Jake p>
Nothing.
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My chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The heart monitor beside my bed beeped faster, and the nurse hurried to my side and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Easy p>
I jerked away from her touch. I scrambled backward, rattling the bed frame, and raised my arms to shield myself from her hands. She stepped away, lifting her palms to show me she wouldn’t touch me again.
“It’s okay. You’re safe,” she said, retreating toward the door. “I’m going to get the doctor. Breathe p>
A doctor walked in with the nurse behind him. Gray streaked his hair at the temples. He dragged a stool beside my bed and sat down before introducing himself as Dr. Harry.
“You’ve been asleep for three days, Veronica,” Dr. Harry said, leaning closer to shine a penlight into my eyes. Your body needed rest. The poison you ingested was severe, but we managed to flush most of it out p>
I stared at him, my lips moving as I struggled to speak. No sound came out.
The nurse murmured something about my inability to speak. Dr. Harry nodded and examined the bruises around my neck and wrists.
“You have no broken bones or torn ligaments,” he explained. “The injuries are limited to the soft tissues. As for your voice, severe trauma can cause the body to shut down certain functions as a defense mechanism. Your voice may return as you recover p>
I wanted to throw my head back and laugh until they ran for a sedative.
My body was protecting me? The same body that curled into a ball whenever a door handle turned? The same body that let Mina flog me until I couldn’t stand? Now it had decided I couldn’t speak.
What a sick joke.
I lifted my free hand and scratched at the air, miming the act of writing.
“She wants to write,” Dr. Harry said, turning to the nurse. “Get her a notepad and pen p>
“Your parents and sister have been frantic,” he added, looking at me. “They’ll be relieved to see you’re awake p>
The nurse returned with a notepad and ballpoint pen. She placed them on my lap before following Dr. Harry out of the room.
I stared at the blank page, my fingers curled around the pen. My hand refused to move. My thoughts tangled into a mess I couldn’t sort through. Every attempt to gather them sent me back to that locked door. I remembered the bite of silver chains against my skin, Mina’s whip cutting into my flesh, and my three-year-old son crying down the hall while nobody came to help him.
My parents would walk through that door expecting to find a broken woman. They would look at me and see someone to pity, a daughter who had fallen apart.
But I wasn’t broken.
A cold, blinding rage burned through me.
I hated Zachary for betraying me, for standing by while his whore tortured me. But my parents had their share of
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my hatred. Months ago, I had begged them for help, my father especially. I had told them my marriage was turning toxic and I needed to leave. They dismissed my pleas. They called me dramatic or blamed my behavior on the hormones that came with giving birth to Jake.
Then they sent me right back into that house.
Now, when I finally had the chance to expose the truth, my own throat refused to give me a voice.
Exhaustion dragged me under, and my eyes closed.
When I woke again, shadows stretched across the room. I looked around, expecting to find myself back in that dark shed, but the IV pole still stood beside my bed.
This wasn’t a dream.
Dr. Harry stood near the foot of my bed, speaking to a man in a dark tailored jacket.
The man towered over the doctor, his brown hair cut close and his broad shoulders filling out his jacket. His Alpha aura pressed against my skin, the kind of commanding presence that made everyone in the room aware of
his rank.
Alpha Charlie.
Zachary’s friend.
My breath caught in my throat. Each inhale scraped through my chest as I stared at him. He was one of them. Zachary’s ally. Had they come to drag me back to that house?
Charlie turned and caught me watching him. He didn’t approach. He remained near the foot of the bed, his hands hanging at his sides.
“You’re safe, Veronica,” he said. His deep voice carried the authority of an Alpha accustomed to being obeyed.” Nobody will hurt you here. The building is guarded p>
I didn’t believe him. Not a word.
“Your son is safe,” Charlie continued, meeting my eyes. “My officers took him straight to your parents the night we rescued you p>
His words struck me, and tears spilled down my cheeks, running into my ears.
Jake was safe.
My baby was out of that house.
Charlie turned away so I wouldn’t have to feel him watching me cry. He spoke quietly with Dr. Harry near the doorway.
“Your family is in the waiting room,” he told me when he turned back. “I’ll bring them in p>
He left, and the door swung shut behind him. A moment later, it opened, and my mother’s silhouette filled the frame.
“Oh, Gregory, she’s awake!” she gasped, rushing into the room.
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My younger sister, Haley, hurried past her, tears spilling from her eyes. “V! Can you hear me p>
My mother reached the bed and buried her face against my shoulder. Her sobs shook her body. My father looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Pull yourself together, Clara,” he snapped at my mother, though strain roughened his voice. “Don’t startle her!
Haley leaned over me and brushed my hair away from my face, gathering it into a loose bun. Her fingers trembled against my cheeks. “You’re safe now, V. I swear you’re safe p>
“Why isn’t she speaking?” my father asked Dr. Harry.
“Her vocal cords are intact, but the psychological trauma has affected her ability to speak p>
“She needs to speak!” my father barked. “Her formal statement is the most critical piece of evidence we have against Zachary! Without her testimony, the council can’t hand down a full conviction p>
“You need to give her time, Alpha p>
“Look at what he did to my daughter!” my father growled, glaring at me across the room. “We need his title stripped, and we need it done now p>
I stared at him from my bed, emptiness spreading through my chest.
Months ago, he had been Zachary’s biggest advocate. When I told him about the strange things happening in Iron Wells, he had ordered me to return and endure my marriage like a proper Luna. Now the abuse had become a public scandal, and his family’s pride was at stake. Suddenly, he wanted justice. But he wasn’t fighting for me. He wanted to win the case.
I closed my eyes and turned toward the wall. Their voices continued behind me, but I shut them out. The rage I couldn’t voice was choking me, and this silence was another form of torture.
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