Althea

05

The dining hall is alive with conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low hum of expensive suits brushing against leather seats. But I hear none of it. My focus is entirely on her.

Althea moves through the room quietly, balancing trays, pouring drinks, serving food like someone who's learned to go unnoticed. But to me, she's impossible to ignore.

I watch the way the chandelier light flickers across her skin, the way the loose strands of her dark hair frame her features. She's beautiful. And she doesn't belong here.

I shouldn't be looking at her like this. Not when my father is sitting right beside me, speaking of my future as though I have no say in it.

"You'll marry Sofia," he says, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Her family controls the docks. That alliance will secure our shipments, make us untouchable."

The words hit like a fist to my gut. I grip my glass tighter, willing myself to nod, to keep my face blank. I can feel Kai's eyes on me from across the table, always watching, always knowing, but he says nothing.

"She's obedient," my father continues. "Knows her place. That's what you need, Khaos. That's what we need."

"And Althea," my father muses, tapping a finger against the mahogany table. "She needs to be dealt with soon. Eamon will take her. It's time."

The glass in my hand nearly shatters.

Eamon.

My brother. My f*****g brother.

I don't react. I can't. But every muscle in my body coils, my vision darkening at the edges. The thought of her with him, bound to him, is unbearable. I would rather rip my brother apart in a million pieces than watch him claim Althea.

"Eamon will put her in her place," my father adds with a smirk. "She's stubborn, but she'll learn."

I clench my jaw, breathing through the raw anger surging through me. I want to stand, to slam my fists onto the table and tell them all to go to hell. But I don't. I sit there, suffocating under the weight of my own silence.

Althea approaches my end of the table, carefully setting a plate of steak in front of Eamon. And then it happens.

Her fingers slip, the plate tilting just enough for the sauce to spill onto Eamon's sleeve.

Time slows.

For a second, there is only silence.

Then, before I can even breathe, Eamon stands. And slaps her.

He slapped her.

He slapped Althea.

My Althea.

The sound of the impact rings through the room. Althea stumbles, her head snapping to the side, her hands shaking.

No one moves.

No one reacts.

Because to them, this is nothing. To them, she is nothing.

Except to me.

I'm out of my chair before I can think, my hand locking around Eamon's wrist as he lifts it again.

He blinks in shock, caught off guard. The entire room watches, waiting.

Don't kill him, Khaos.

Don't kill him.

"That's enough," I say, my voice lethal.

Eamon scoffs, yanking his arm free. "She's mine, I can do whatever I want. She needs to learn—"

"I said, that's enough!"

My tone leaves no room for argument. I turn to Althea, who hasn't lifted her head. Her hair shields her face, but I see the trembling of her fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing.

My chest tightens painfully.

Fuck. What have they done to my Althea?

"Come with me," I say, softer this time.

She hesitates. But when I reach for her, she follows.

I lead her away from the dining hall, away from their cold stares and indifferent gazes. Down the sleek hallways, past the luxurious rooms filled with crystal chandeliers and Italian leather.

"Where's your room?" I ask softly. She quietly points to the hallway on the left, I sigh before following her.

I push open her door—and freeze.

The room is tiny. A glorified closet. The walls are bare, the bed is barely a bed, just a thin mattress on a metal frame. The single lightbulb flickers weakly. There's nothing here. No comfort, no warmth.

This is where she sleeps? This is where they keep her?

A sharp, unfamiliar ache stabs through my chest. I help her sit on the bed, kneeling in front of her. Her cheek is red, swelling slightly. I reach for her face, but she flinches.

That reaction breaks something inside me.

"You should have let him," she whispers. "You should have let him hit me again."

My blood turns to ice. "Don't say that."

"It doesn't matter, Khaos." Her voice cracks. "No one cares. No one ever has."

I cup her face gently, forcing her to look at me.

Fuck, those eyes will be the death of me. So much innocence filled in them.

"I care."

Her lips part slightly, her eyes searching mine like she's waiting for the lie, for the betrayal.

But it never comes.

I sit beside her, wrapping my arms around her small frame, pulling her into me. She stiffens at first, but then, slowly, she melts. Her fingers clutch my shirt, her quiet sniffles breaking the silence.

"It's okay," I murmur into her hair. "I'm here."

She doesn't speak, but I feel her hold on me tighten.

"You'll get in trouble for this," she mumbles, her voice muffled against my chest.

"Let them try," I say darkly. "I'd like to see them f*****g try."

She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into my shirt as though she wants to believe me but can't. I press a kiss to her temple, my grip tightening.

I gently tuck her into bed, pulling the thin blanket over her. She's still holding onto my shirt, refusing to let go.

"Stay," she whispers, barely audible.

I should leave.

But I can't.

So I stay. I stroke her hair softly, feeling her breaths against my chest. She's warm, fragile, and mine in a way she'll never know.

My fingers trace absent patterns against her back, soothing, comforting. She shifts slightly, nuzzling closer, her breath on my neck.

I rest my chin against the top of her head, breathing her in. She smells like vanilla and cinnamon, like warmth, like home, like everything I can never have.

I won't leave her alone. Not tonight.

Not ever.

I'll always be by her side.

Always by my Althea's side.

My Stupid Althea.

_._

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