Tear the Alpha's Vow

Chapter 5 — The Return

The house still wore its wedding face. Ribbons hung from the banisters. Roses crowded the tables. The air was sweet in a way that already felt stale to me.

I stood in the foyer when the door opened. Footsteps, the scrape of a boot, a rush of cold air. Nicholas came in with Victoria at his side.

For a second I was only shocked. She looked small inside his jacket, hair damp from the river mist, cheeks blotched from crying. Then I heard him say, calm and firm, that she should stay here to recover, and the shock burned up into anger so clean it felt like glass. I held it in my mouth, tasted it, and put it down. Fighting him in this doorway would change nothing. My goal was to leave this man, not to win a scene with him.

Nicholas watched my face, waiting for the explosion he thought he deserved. When it did not arrive, he drew himself up as if to fill the silence with rank.

“Diana," he said, “the physician says she needs rest and someone to keep an eye on her. She slipped on that bridge. She's shaken. She will stay here for a few days."

I looked at Victoria. She was already playing the part. Shoulders hunched. Hands clasped. Voice soft. “Luna, I'm sorry. I don't want to trouble you. If you prefer, I can leave now. I'll find another place." Her eyes flicked to his hand on her arm. When she turned a fraction as if to go, Nicholas caught her wrist and pulled her closer.

“You're staying," he told her. “No one will push you out." His arm wrapped around her. She leaned into him at once like a bird taught to fly to the glove. Over his shoulder she gave me a small look that said plainly: I am here.

My pulse clicked once. I let the sound pass and breathed. I had no interest in arguing with a performance.

“Fine," I said. “The east guest room gets morning sun. That will help. We'll keep it quiet."

Both of them blinked, as if a script had been dropped on the floor.

“You agree?" Nicholas asked.

“Yes," I said. “She needs rest. The chair by the window is sturdy. The curtains are heavy enough to block the light if she has a headache." I turned to the butler. “Air the east room. Fresh sheets. Clear the lilies. They give headaches."

Servants moved. Orders snapped into action. The house adjusted around the decision the way a body adjusts to a splint.

Nicholas recovered first, standing taller, as if magnanimity had always been his plan. “I appreciate your understanding." His tone reached for thanks and landed closer to pride.

“It's a large house," I said. “We can be generous inside it."

Victoria pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Luna, you are very kind," she said in a voice meant for sympathy. “If you are unhappy, say so. I would leave at once." She did not move.

I met her eyes. “Go upstairs," I told the maid beside us. “Help Miss Victoria change into dry clothes. Broth, then rest." I looked back to Victoria. “If you need anything, ask the staff. Not me."

A shadow crossed her face and was gone. She dipped her head again, all thanks and humility, and let herself be led toward the stairs. She did not forget to brush my shoulder with a faint, accidental touch as she passed Nicholas. It was a small claim. I noted it and set it aside.

When the others were out of earshot, Nicholas stayed where he was, still in the doorway, still wearing command like armor. His voice turned careful. “Diana, I brought her because she almost fell. This is not what it looks like."

“It looks like a man who caught a woman on a bridge and decided to keep her in his house," I said. “Since she is here, she will be treated as a patient. Nothing more."

He searched my face. I kept it plain. I let him see nothing he could use.

“I don't want you to feel disrespected," he said.

“Then don't disrespect me," I answered. “It is within your control."

He opened his hands. “I am trying to do right by everyone."

“Then start by not lying to yourself," I said. “It's less work."

He looked past me to the stairs where Victoria had gone. He looked back. “Are you angry?"

“I was," I said. “It passed."

He seemed almost disappointed, like a boxer denied a bell. “You could tell me not to keep her here," he said. “You have that right as Luna."

“I have the right to choose where I spend my effort," I said. “I choose not to waste it this way."

He drew a breath. His shoulders lowered by a degree. “Thank you," he said, and meant it. “You surprise me."

“I plan to keep doing that," I said.

The staff returned to say the room was ready. Nicholas nodded. He offered his arm to escort me upstairs. I didn't take it. I went ahead. He followed.

On the landing we crossed to the east wing. The room was bright and bare in the way good rooms are when they wait for use. The bed was made tight. The chair by the window faced the trees. A tray stood ready for tea and broth.

Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, an image from a painted story. When Nicholas walked in, she rose fast and swayed, and he stepped in with an arm to steady her. She let out a small breath against his chest. His jaw flexed once.

“Rest," I told her. “If you wake at night and can't breathe, open the window three inches and sit. The air will help."

“Thank you," she whispered. Then to Nicholas, low and trembly, “If the Luna wants me gone—"

He cut her off with a soft look. “You're staying."

He was careful to say it while watching me.

“I said she could stay," I answered. “There is nothing more to discuss here." I nodded to the maid and left the room.

In the corridor, my anger rose again for a breath and then went away, a wave that did not find a beach. I did not want him. I wanted a door I could walk through without being stopped. That was the only thing worth keeping.

Back in our bedroom, the wedding bed was turned down, neat as a lie. Two glasses waited on a tray. A small cake with white icing sat untouched. I shut the balcony doors against the draft, then opened them again because I wanted air that had not passed through his lungs.

I washed my face. I untied my hair. I counted to twenty, not to calm down but to mark the distance between choice and habit. I had made a choice. I would not waste myself shouting in a house that did not deserve my voice.

Footsteps stopped outside the door. The handle turned. Nicholas came in and closed it behind him.

He looked uncertain.