22
1680 Words
CELESTE
I’d been so engrossed in the book I was reading that I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of rolling thunder. One second, the manor was quiet, and the next, lightning cracked across the sky like an angry whip. The windows trembled. The walls groaned. Then the thunder rolled in.
Fear coiled up in my stomach. I tried to tell myself it was fine. The manor was built to withstand far worse. Yet none of that mattered when the wind shrieked, or when rain lashed so hard against the glass. I tried to keep reading. But when another flash split the sky and the thunder slammed right after it, I jumped to my feet. My heart pounded in my throat.
“Get it together,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just a storm.”
Only it wasn’t just anything. Because storms never came to me empty-handed. I hated and was terrified of them.
In the next flash of lightning, I saw the night of my rejection; the cold sneer on Robb’s face; the feeling of my chest caving in; Mila’s laughter; my breath seizing.
Outside, the wind howled louder. Suddenly, the power went out, and darkness swallowed everything. I swallowed a shriek. I was shaking, my breath short and fast. I could almost hear the echo of that night again.
My lungs wouldn’t open. My hands trembled. My chest ached as if invisible claws were dragging down from the inside. I tried to remind myself that those memories weren’t real anymore. They couldn’t hurt me. But my body didn’t believe it.
Another boom echoed, and I flinched, clutching my chest. It was so dark I couldn’t even see my hand before my face. Panic clawed at me. I stumbled toward the door, desperate for air, for light, for anything.
“Morrison?” I called out before I could stop myself. The hall was worse. It was pitch black and stretched endlessly in both directions. My bare feet slapped against the cold floor as I tried to find my way, but every sound echoed and every shadow whispered.
I turned left and hit a wall. Tried right, and found a staircase. I barely breathed. I just needed to find light or anyone.
Lightning flared again, and I got a glimpse of the grand staircase. Then darkness covered me again. I stumbled forward, disoriented, my throat tight with terror.
When the next thunder cracked, I screamed.
Suddenly, strong, steady arms wrapped around me and pulled me close. I thrashed instinctively, but then his scent lulled me.
“Easy,” Knox murmured, his voice low against my ear. “It’s me.”
I gasped, clutching at his shirt. I could feel my pulse hammering against him.
“The backup power isn’t kicking in,” he said quietly, brushing my hair away from my face. “I need to check it manually, outside.”
“No,” I said instantly, gripping him tighter. “You’ll get struck or something—”
He gave a low chuckle, the sound rough and amused despite the storm. “Do you think I’m scared of a little thunder?”
“I think you’re an i***t if you walk into this,” I snapped, my voice trembling more than I wanted it to.
His hand came up to cup my jaw. “Then I won’t. You’re shaking.”
I tried to pull back, but he didn’t let me. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Come with me.”
Before I could argue, he led me down the corridor. When we reached the kitchen, he lit a few candles with quick, sure movements. The soft glow bloomed over his face.
“There,” he said quietly. “Better?”
I nodded, though my voice still trembled. He reached for the kettle, filling it. I watched and tried to get myself to stop shaking.
When he placed the steaming mug in my hands, my fingers brushed his. “Drink. It’ll help,” he said.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
He tilted his head toward another hallway. “Come on. I’ve got something set up.”
I followed him through the manor until we reached what looked like a cozy, half-hidden chamber off the east wing. It was lined with shelves, blankets, a low couch, and a fireplace that glowed faintly. It was beautiful.
“You were preparing this?” I asked, surprised.
He shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d be awake, but I figured the storm might get bad. Guess I was right.”
He motioned for me to sit. “You’re safe here, Celeste.”
I hesitated, but the heat from the fireplace was too inviting. I sank into the couch, clutching the mug.
He poured himself one too and settled beside me, close, but not quite touching. His gaze flicked to me. “How about a distraction?”
I arched a brow. “What kind?”
“Two truths and one lie.”
I huffed. “That’s childish.”
“Or effective,” he countered, eyes gleaming. “Besides, I want to know what’s true about you and what you’re still hiding.”
I stared at him across the flickering candlelight; the storm was still raging beyond the manor’s walls.
“You really want to play a game right now?” I asked, taking a careful sip of the warm drink he’d made.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You need a distraction, and I need honesty. So yes. Two truths and one lie. It’s very simple.”
“Fine,” I said, setting down my mug. “You first.”
He studied me, eyes glinting. “Alright. One, I broke my first Alpha’s jaw when I was sixteen. Two, I’ve never been drunk in my life. Three, I once thought about leaving everything behind for a woman.”
I blinked. “That’s—wow.”
He smirked. “Go on, Celeste. Guess.”
I looked him over. Knox was many things: reckless, arrogant, beautiful in a violent kind of way, but never predictable.
“The lie is number two,” I said finally. “You’ve definitely been drunk.”
“Wrong.” He chuckled.
“What?”
“The lie was the third,” he said, leaning closer. “I didn’t think about leaving everything for her. I almost did.”
My chest tightened. I didn’t know what to say. I hated that my voice came out softer than I intended. “Who was she?”
His eyes stayed locked on mine. “You already know.”
I looked away, pretending to focus on the candlelight. “My turn,” I said quickly. “Let’s see… One, I once stole from a Luna. Two, I’m afraid of storms. Three, I regret leaving the Dark Vine Pack.”
He tilted his head, studying me the way a predator studies movement.
“The lie is number three,” he said confidently. “You never regretted leaving.”
I met his gaze, heart thudding. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“Don’t get smug about it,” I shot back.
The game went on, round after round. It became more confessional than playful. I learned things I shouldn’t have; how he’d trained under a merciless Alpha who broke bones for mistakes. How Knox had once challenged a whole council to protect a runaway rogue. How he hated silence because it reminded him of the night his parents died.
He didn’t hide the pain. He didn’t sugarcoat the darkness either.
When I asked how they’d died, his eyes dimmed. “It was an accident,” he said. “So they told me. But the council wanted them gone. They wanted control, and they thought killing my bloodline would give it to them.”
“Damn,” I whispered.
“I didn’t cry,” he went on, voice low. “I was too busy surviving. Too busy proving that I didn’t need anyone.”
“And you did.”
“I did,” he said. “But it made me… this.” He gestured at himself, half-mocking. “Vicious. Ruthless. I built my throne out of bones, and sometimes I still think I belong buried under it.”
“I didn’t know,” I said quietly.
“You weren’t supposed to.” His gaze softened.
“Too late,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
He laughed under his breath. “You’ve always been sharper than everyone else, you know that?”
“Not sharp enough to stop you from ruining my life.”
He leaned back, swirling his drink. “You remember school?” he asked suddenly, his voice lighter but the tension still there. “You were my biggest headache.”
“You mean competition.”
“I mean headache,” he said, smiling faintly. “You always sat in the front, pretending not to notice me watching you.”
“I didn’t pretend,” I said. “I just didn’t care.”
“Liar.” His grin widened. “You used to roll your eyes every time I beat you in strategy class.”
“That’s because you cheated.”
“Or maybe I was just better.”
“Morrison, please,” I scoffed. “You couldn’t even handle a mock duel without showing off.”
He laughed. The sound of his laughter was so deep and unguarded that it almost startled me.
“Do you remember the graduation trials?” he asked.
“How could I forget?” I said dryly. “You nearly set the forest on fire.”
“I was trying to impress you.”
“You nearly killed me!”
His eyes glimmered with mischief. “Worked, didn’t it?”
I threw a cushion at him. He caught it easily, laughing, and something between us shifted.
The thunder rolled again, but this time it didn’t scare me. The storm outside felt almost secondary to the one unraveling between us.
“See?” he murmured, voice dipping low. “You’re not afraid anymore.”
- Writer
