Luna's Revenge

Wounds

As soon as dusk fell, the city seemed to turn into an eery calmness. Most denizens were aware of a new threat looming by their borders and so, not many roamed the street after the sun had disappeared from the horizon.

The human servants had been returned to their quarters, some stayed with assigned werewolf families whilst the rest lived by the city borders in cells similar to the one which were provided to Ophelia and Adrian, however, the ones used by the humans were much less equipped.

Rowan, as he had decided, had left to patrol through the forest around his city, ordering every other wolf to be on their guard and stay inside the borders.

His orders, even though weren’t liked by Clark, but were still followed.

Ophelia, on the other hand, was still inside the dusty storage that had been assigned to her. And even though she knew that she had almost a week to get it done with, seeing the condition the room was in, she guessed that even that was a small amount of time.

Surprisingly for her, no one came looking for her to kick her out of the Alpha’s mansion after sundown. She had been in here since the morning and even now, she believed that no one aside from Justin, or maybe Clark, knew that she was even in here.

Of course, Rowan too, was a part of them since he had appeared in the room out of nowhere and was the reason for the very stinging pain in her rear.

She rolled her eyes as she thought of the Alpha before continuing to sort through one of the piles of junk in the corner. She knew that she would have to rummage through a lot of things and even throw most of them out, if she wanted this room to look even moderately habitable.

Either that, or she would have to demand Justin to bring in more shelves for the room, in case the Alpha household also liked to hoard their garbage.

Although there was a part of her that could bet that she had been given this task purely out of spite, to check how hard she was willing to work, and she would be a liar if she said that this was not wearing her out.

Especially with the lack of food or water in her body. She could not even remember the last time she had a proper meal.

She groaned as she came across an antique looking table clock; its wood was infested with mites and thick dust coated the surface. Her gaze fell on all sorts of antiques surrounding her, each needing to be cleaned, and then her eyes turned back to the clock in her hand.

With nimble fingers, she picked up the wet rag placed near her knee as she scooted backwards so as to rest her back against the wall, flinching because of the cold temperature, she began to clean the clock.

As she worked, her mind wandered off to all of the things that she had experienced in Viribus so far.

From the first moment when Justin and his men caught her a few steps inside the pack borders, she had known that she was doomed. They were ruthless and irrational.

At least that is what she believed while she grew up.

However, coming here, she saw a harmony between the pack that not many possessed. She had heard of werewolf cities which were unsafe for even wolves like herself, rogue or not. She had heard of places where there had never been a constant Alpha and all it took was killing the current one in order to be crowned.

In Viribus, however, things were different.

Here, there was a clear order of things. The Alpha was not as ruthless as she had imagined and the people were well aware of the ranks.

From what she had understood, unlike other packs, there were five betas, instead of just one. One of them was Justin. And all five of them were Rowan’s inner circle, guarded and guided by Clark in order to protect Rowan.

The rest of the population comprised of Omegas and others belonging to the lowest of runts in the pack. But even they had the pleasure of living a fulfilled lifestyle.

So far, she had not seen a single werewolf household which looked as though their needs weren’t being met. She was envious of that.

And she could have believed with all of her heart that perhaps Viribus was not as cruel as she had imagined, had she not seen the conditions that the human slaves were kept in.

Thinking about them brought back the suppressed rage in Ophelia’s veins as she scrubbed at the wooden clock furiously.

The Alpha knew how to keep his people happy but his kindness did not extend to anyone coming from outside his borders.

Those humans were a clear example of that.

Adrian was a clear example of that.

Hell, she herself was one.

Thinking about the faces that she had seen today, she shuddered thinking about what would happen to her in the days to come, or months even.

She knew that she had a purpose when she had stepped into the forest that day, however, now, a small, coward part of herself was screaming at her to find a way out.

Especially because she knew that there was nothing in this world which would help her if the city of Viribus decided to make her their puppet.

A hiss escaped her lips when she looked down and saw a wood splinter buried in her index finger. She groaned, seeing the blood already oozing out.

Cussing at the clock, she stood up, keeping aside the wet rag which was beginning to get muddy from the filthy clock. She walked out of the storage and then down the hall towards the direction of a washroom that she had used earlier.

She locked the door behind her before turning to switch on the faucet as cold water cascaded onto her finger with the small cut.

Carefully, she washed off the wound, knowing that her healing abilities were going to be slow because of the lack of nutrition in her body and there was no way that she would risk an infection in a situation like this.

Once she was done, she looked up and found her own eyes staring back at her.

The bags underneath her eyes looked much more prominent and the hollows of her cheeks seemed to have increased in just one day. Hunger and weakness were evident on her face, making her look meeker than she had ever seen herself before.

Her golden-brown hair was matted with dust and looked dull as well.

Shaking her head, she turned off the faucet again as she snatched a paper towel from a dispenser before wiping off her hands and discarding it in the bin.

She knew that she looked horrible and her body grew weaker with every breath that she took. But she was not going to allow that weakness to show. Especially not in a place where everyone was watching her like a hungry hawk.

She walked out of the bathroom and was about to walk back to the storage room to return to her job when she heard a low grumble from the corridor to her right.

She furrowed her brows and before she could ignore it, the sound was there again.

It seemed like someone was in pain.

At first, she thought that she should just mind her own business but when she heard the sound for the third time, curiosity got better of her and she began to make her way towards the direction.

She gasped when her footsteps came across drops of blood and when she looked at the wall to her side, she saw bloodied handprints. She almost groaned, knowing that she would have to be the one to clean them from the intricate wallpaper.

Ignoring her impulses which were screaming at her to turn back around, she continued to follow the path led by blood splatters on the wall and ground before she came across a door.

It was ajar already and when she dared to look inside, she saw a shirtless Alpha leaning against his desk, trying to stitch up the deep gashes running along his stomach.

Claw marks.

Her eyes widened with horror before she took in his face and saw how it was contorted in pain. As if even lifting his arm was causing him deep agony.

She stepped inside his room, closing the door behind her, making him stop and look at her with his fierce and wild green eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked out in anger. Gone was the boy who had grinned at her in a silly and nervous manner in the afternoon. Gone was the Alpha with cocky smirks and youthful thoughts. At the moment, he was simply an injured wolf and she had walked right into his cave.

“I can help.” She offered; her voice was soft but still even.

“Go away, rogue.” He snapped at her before hissing as he tried to puncture the needle through his face with his own hands. His forearm too seemed to have similar gashes.

“Please, let me help, you are losing a lot of blood as it is.” She insisted as she dared to step towards him. At first, he waved his hand dismissively, trying to push her away but she could see that he was close to losing consciousness.

And she knew that unless his healing kicked in, his wounds were never going to close up.

She took a deep breath as she stepped even closer. “Let me help you. You are in no condition to do this on your own and who knows how long it will be before someone else finds you. Let me help. I give you my word that I will not harm you.”

She deemed it necessary to speak in clear terms, knowing that aside from pride, the reason he was not letting her near his wounds was because he did not trust her.

“I would never…believe in the word of a rogue…” Rowan croaked out, his eyes drooping while his face was now covered with sweat.

Ophelia refrained from rolling her eyes as her attention stayed focused on the deep wound on his tan skin. She knew that he merely had minutes before he would fall unconscious and after that, the poison from the wound would fester, making it more difficult for him to heal.

She reached out to take his hand in her own and her grip, irrespective of her weak condition, was strong enough to keep his hands in place as he snapped his eyes to look at her with a burning hatred.

“Step away before I rip your throat out with my teeth.” Rowan breathed with anger, his warm breath fanned her face and even with the fury rushing through his eyes, she did not balk, she did not cower as she continued to look at him with indifference.

“I am here to help.” She spoke again, and this time, there was a tone to her words which did not leave room for argument.

He continued to glare at her as she softly took the needle from his hand and then looped her arm around his back, careful enough to not touch the wounds on his shoulder as she brought the chair closer and sat him down.

Without a word, she walked into the bathroom attached to his room and returned with a wide vessel filled with clear water and a soft towel.

He sat there watchful and wary as she took a seat in front of him on the ground and kneeled up to reach up to his injuries before she took a deep breath and met his gaze briefly.

She blinked as if to tell him that she was not going to back out of her word before she brought the towel dipped in water to clean up the wounds.