Rejecting Alpha Dreads

Chapter7

Rob couldn’t even ask if I needed a ride back to the pack house with him.

But we both knew there was zero possibility of it happening. I hated him and he knew it. We couldn’t endure the same close space together.

The distance from here to the pack house was at least thirty minutes away. I could have let the boys drop me off in their car, especially as I’d already been caught. But I decided I still needed this walk to give me enough room to process things. Whether I was walking towards my execution was now the issue.

My feet felt murky and sticky in my flat shoes. The wetness seemed to make me itchy, so I pulled the shoes off and held them in my hands. I stopped by a roadside shop whose walls were glass. My reflection looked dejected enough. The shawl hooded and concealed my face properly, but the hairs sticking out from beneath it were tangled like I had been homeless for days. The cousins had made sure of that and I loved it. If Beta Rob hadn’t told Dreads yet about where I’d really been, I supposed the rogue story, given my unkempt appearance, would do.

I was in the pack house’s vicinity soon.

My heart palpitated and I became sweaty despite the chilly, after-rain weather. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in that house, but there was nothing more I could do now. I couldn't help wishing Benson and George were here, but as always, it was wishful thinking.

It was evening already. Not yet dark but you could see the moon. I walked into the pack house, avoiding the stares of other pack members. Reaching the third floor, I went into my room and quietly shut my door. Better not to let the alpha know I was around yet, so I could at least buy some time and perhaps say I'd been around since earlier.

I was fast becoming a liar. Very unlike me who wasn’t scared to tell the truth to anyone’s face. What would they do? But right now they could indeed do something. So lies.

I was about to drift off to sleep when someone knocked lightly on my door.

That took long enough. I cleared my throat and asked, “Who is it?”

“Valeria, ma,” the quiet, disembodied voice said.

A maid, I thought. “Come in.”

She opened, approached me and bowed. “The alpha sends for you, ma.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the news. But the chuckling was out of fear, the only reaction I could muster at that point. Dreads rarely asked anyone to fetch me. I started practicing the lies in my head. Were there any conflicts in the plotline? Will he buy it?

“Thanks, Valeria,” I said. “I’ll join him shortly.”

Quickly, I stood before my dresser. Did I look dejected enough? I ran my hands through my hair to further roughen it up. My makeup! A good makeup could further accentuate the look of dejection. I got my kit and carefully dabbed dark eye-shadow beneath my lower lids. The effects were startling—my eyes appeared weary and sunken, as if I hadn’t slept in days.

I stood and walked out of my room. His chamber was just opposite as soon as you stepped out of mine. I started crying. “Oh Priscilla, stop with the fake tears,” my mother would say when I wanted to emotionally manipulate her into doing my bid. “I know when tears are faked. I’m your mother”

I breathe in and out, and knocked lightly on his door.

“Come in,” he said after few seconds.

My head was bowed. Most of my hair fell forward to cover my face. How many times had I been here? Whores were more familiar with my mate’s chamber than I was. The place was as spacious as a basketball court. There was a piano at the middle, just under an exotic chandelier, beneath which someone else asides my husband was sitting.

Alpha Dreads wasn’t alone. Beta Rob was seated by the grand piano, rolling a glass of wine so the content swirled as he looked up at me. Rob was smiling at me and I couldn’t breathe.

“Excuse us, Rob,” Alpha Dreads said.

Bob stood and straightened out his shirt with a brush of his palm. He fixed his gaze on me, maintaining his smile as he walked in my direction. I looked up and into his eyes, searching for answers. Have you told him, Rob? Tell me with your eyes if you’ve told him, Rob.

Rob winked at me and just went past.

The moment he was out, Dreads stood and paced in my direction, stood just a hairbreadth away from me. I could smell him. Without touching me, his presence wraps me up like an envelope to a letter.

“Who were you with?”

The pendulum clock on the wall to my left kept swinging. If a pin had dropped in the room, I’d have easily heard it. My heart skipped. Who was I with? This was the make-or-break point. Benson. George. Rogues. If I told a lie and it turned out Rob had told the truth, it would be the end of me. I decided to go with the lie. Let whatever wanted to happen, happen. So I let the tears pour out of my eyes. “I was raped.”

The words barely came out completely when I fell on my knees and held his legs, exactly the same way I would usually do when I truly hurt.

"You were r a p e d by who?" he asked gently. His voice sounded audibly irritable, imbued with anger.

"By rogue wolves," I said amidst tears.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

I did and briefly stared into his eyes, trying to check for whether he just bought my story.

“Where were you when you were accosted?” he asked. “Did you not scream for help? Were there no passersby around to rescue you?”

For someone who was always bedding different women every now and then, it was surprising that he found the idea of someone sleeping with me very disturbing.

“I only went out to read and it started to rain. I thought maybe I could just hurry back to the pack house. The streets were already empty and there were hardly passersby.”

I looked up at him, my long strands of hair acting as a shield between our eyes. Was I making a fool of myself? Dreads must want me to clown around and tell all my lies before bursting my bubbles. “Go on,” he said.

But I didn’t want to go on. For a traumatic person, I was talking too much. I was meant to be heartbroken beyond words. Rather than answer his question, I should double-up on my show of being emotionally wrecked. “You should study dramatic arts at college,” mother said one evening in the kitchen after I had perfectly mimicked the mannerisms of her friend, Mrs. Oppenheimer, who had the tiniest voice I’d ever heard and laughed like she was crying. I burst out crying and held my face in my palms, walking away from Dreads to go sit on one of the random stools in his chamber. I buried my face between my legs and wept like I had never done before.

The next thing he did shook me to my core. He stamped his feet on the ground and screamed, “Rob!”.

In less than two seconds, Rob was in the room.

“Fetch your men,” Dreads said. “My m a t e got r***d by rogue wolves. Go out there, find any rogue wolves around, and torture the hell of them until they lead to whoever did this. You have just two days. Get the doctor right away to examine her.”

Rob bowed before his superior and came to me, holding me by my arm and helping me up. Of course, I continued to cry while he led me away.

We both walked down the corridor towards the in-house doctor’s apartment. Then Rob stopped, withdrew his hands from me and, true to type, started to clap.

“Genius,” he said. “You’re really good.”