The Alpha's Villainess

Chapter Twenty-Six

I winced as the man’s strength held me, still healing from the injuries the week prior. The place he restrained was where a larger gash had been torn along my arm during the fight, now only showing as a nasty bruise in the area. Truthfully, I’d mostly forgotten about it, but as he grabbed me firmly now, I was painfully reminded just how fragile I still was.

“Scarlett Azalea, right? From Easthaven?”

“Let me go.”

I tried to pull my arm away, ignoring the pain of my injury as I did so, but he only held me tighter in his grip.

“Why are you being so difficult? Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m not Scarlett,” I lied, still attempting to free myself.

He was getting frustrated now, his expression darkening. Clearly, my attempts at dismissing his questions weren’t what he expected. But I was no longer interested in being polite or avoiding a public scene. Something inside was telling me to do whatever it took to survive.

“Why lie to—”

“—Let me go right now or I’ll scream,” I threatened, pausing my efforts at freeing myself just long enough to meet his eyes. To convey to him how seriously I would not go along with him without a fight.

That seemed to make him rethink his approach.

Like a switch being flicked back on, that same terrifying smile reappeared across his lips and he let me go, holding his hands up as if he were proving a point of innocence.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, taking a step back. “No need to overreact. Was just a friendly question, is all.”

‘Friendly’ wasn’t the word I would use, but I didn’t intend to stand around and argue with him on the point. Instead, I just immediately turned around, and quickly rushed back towards the main market street without looking behind me.

“Was nice seeing you, Scarlett!” he yelled out after me.

But I kept walking, refusing to acknowledge him. There was something about him, about his questions, that didn’t sit right with me. There was clearly a more sinister motive in his actions that I wasn’t privy to.

And it made me feel afraid.

**********************

.

“Natalie?”

I’d found my way back to the top of the main market street, nearly half running the entire way, and immediately pressed myself against the stone wall of a building, worried the man might have followed me. Inside my chest, my heart was thumping heavily, my thoughts consumed by a sickening fear churning within my gut.

Was he someone from Scarlett’s past, or someone who was specifically asked to find me?

Both of the possibilities filled me with unease. Neither probably had a good reason for why he’d wanted to talk to me.

Especially not if he were—

“—Natalie?” Hazel called again, making me realise I hadn’t registered her voice the first time. Her arrival had gone completely unnoticed by me as I remained stuck within my deep thoughts.

I snapped myself out of it and looked over to the woman who clearly seemed concerned for me. Enough so that I recognised my behaviour must have seemed odd, my facial expression not much better.

“Are you okay?” she asked, moving closer. “Did something happen?”

Before I could even respond, she was scanning the people who walked by us, as if she instinctively knew I was hiding from someone.

...And I realised I’d made her worried about me.

That thought made me quickly refocus. My problems weren’t for her to concern herself with. After all, I was only going to be here temporarily. Dragging her into... whatever... that encounter was wouldn’t be fair to her. I had no desire to bring any trouble to her doorstep, especially not after everything she’d already done for me.

And so I shook away the troubled feelings and quickly plastered a smile on my face.

“Hazel! Yes, yes, everything is fine,” I lied. “Sorry... I guess I just got overwhelmed by the big town and all the people. I had a nice day out though. And I got a great deal on this. Isn’t it cute?”

I held up my new drawing sketchbook to her, doing my best to express that same excitement I’d felt for it earlier and hoping to distract her from the conversation regarding my wellbeing.

She didn’t seem to budge at first, her face as hard as stone, but after a few seconds she finally softened, giving me a small smile. “It’s very nice.”

“Shall we head back?”

I’d asked the question quickly, not wanting the topic to change back to myself. To my relief, she nodded and we made our way home to the Tavern.

Hazel made small talk with me along the way, and I did my best to listen and respond accordingly. But every corner we turned, every face we passed, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from worrying. Wondering if perhaps they were someone who knew me... someone who was looking for me. It made the entire walk feel like it took an excruciatingly long time, right up until we finally arrived and walked through the familiar doors.

With another expression of appreciation for Hazel taking me with her, and a small smile upon my lips, we quickly parted ways for the day, allowing for me to return to the room I was residing in. But the moment I was alone, my expression immediately fell, my heart racing as I thought back on the confrontation earlier. Could it be tied to Alistair? Someone he sent to investigate why I was still living here?

But... no... there wouldn’t have been enough time for him to organise that. Judging from his initial surprise at seeing me, I doubted he would have been able to coordinate such a thing whilst travelling to the meeting.

Which meant I still didn’t know who they were or what they wanted.

I sat down on my bed and stared absently at the new sketchbook and pencils in my hands, wishing I could go back to feeling the immense high I’d felt when I’d first purchased them. Before this new unknown entity was terrorising my every thought.

But I knew I needed to calm down. To soothe my mind before it consumed me.

Without really thinking, I then opened it up and began to draw, my hand sketching the lines and patterns, the familiar slopes and edges. Every worry and insecurity inside fuelled my movement as it illustrated, filling the blank space with an image that was completely foreign to this world.

Before it had become my career, art had been my main source of comfort and escape. I guess it was only natural I’d revert back to it, now completely isolated from the modern replacements I’d become accustomed to. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d put pencil to paper, the modern landscape usually requiring skill in digital art these days. But it felt good. It felt... comforting.

It was an hour or two before I finished my rough sketch, pausing long enough to carefully look it over. I held it away from my face to appraise it and my chest ached from its familiarity.

If I managed to live long enough in this new life, I knew one day I might forget it. At least now I had a way to always remember how it looked.

The sketchbook still open at the drawing’s page, I propped it upright on the nightstand and curled myself into a blanket, wrapping it around me so only my face was peeking out. And I looked up at the sketch, envisioning it clearly in my mind as if it were real. As if I was still there. In my old bedroom. With my comfy bed and the soft glowing light coming from my computer. Looking at it again now, even though it was just a drawing, I felt as if I could still feel the warmth of my favourite hoodie... the sound of my keyboard clicking... remember the way the ceiling light would always stutter three times before turning on.

I wanted to go back. Back to when I didn’t need to worry if my life was in danger every morning when I woke up.

Back to when everything was simpler.

Back to my home... the place where I belonged.