10: Obsession 2
1040 Words
GAINES
Thirteen years.
Thirteen f*****g years since she slipped through my fingers.
Louisa.
I sit in my high-backed chair, fingers drumming against the armrest, my gaze fixated on the worn photograph in my hand.
The study is dark, illuminated only by the flickering light from the fireplace, casting long, dancing shadows across the room combined with the thick scent of leather-bound books and the rich aroma of aged whiskey hanging heavily in the air, creating an oppressive atmosphere.
Her face stares back at me, frozen in time, her eyes filled with a spirit that once caught my eye and now infuriates me to no end.
The picture is crumpled, edges frayed from years of handling.
It has been thirteen long years since she slipped through my fingers, vanishing into the night like smoke on the wind.
I clench the photograph tighter, the paper biting into my palm.
Where could she be?
The thought gnaws at me constantly, a relentless itch I cannot scratch.
She should be here, at my side, under my control, submitting to the life I had planned for her.
The life she was destined for.
Instead, she ran.
Like a coward.
Ungrateful b***h.
My jaw tightens, teeth grinding as memories of her betrayal flood my mind. She escaped me. Humiliated me.
And worse, the idea that she might be with someone else, laughing, loving, living a life that doesn’t include me- it is unbearable.
If she is dead, perhaps it would be better that way.
At least then, she wouldn’t be someone else’s.
But if she is alive and out there… in the arms of another… I will find her.
And when I do, she will regret ever thinking she could outrun me.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my dark thoughts and I glare at the heavy oak door, irritation prickling at my already little patience.
“Enter,” I bark, the command sharp and harsh.
The door creaks open slowly, and one of my scouts steps inside. His posture is stiff, his head bowed low, as if he can feel the storm brewing within me.
He is right to be worried. My temper is razor-thin tonight.
“What is it?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.
The scout shifts on his feet, visibly nervous, which only fuels my irritation. “Alpha Gaines,” he starts, his tone cautious, like a man tiptoeing around a sleeping beast. “There has been... an incident in Travis’s territory.”
Travis.
Another f*****g thorn in my flesh
My eyes narrow, curiosity piqued despite my sour mood. “What sort of incident?” I ask, though my voice remains cold, detached.
“A rogue broke into his packlands.”
I arch an eyebrow. Hardly newsworthy.
Rogues are a constant nuisance, a plague to be eradicated. But something in the scout’s behavior suggests there is more to this story. I lean forward slightly, my interest sharpening. “And?”
The scout’s hesitation is clear as he swallows hard, his gaze flickering to meet mine for the briefest second before darting away. “We believe it was Louisa.”
The name cuts through the room like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. I rise slowly from my chair, the photograph forgotten as it slips from my hand to the floor.
“Are you certain?” My voice is a low growl, barely restrained.
He nods quickly, his movements jerky with fear. “I... I saw her with my own eyes.”
The room tilts, the walls pressing in as my mind races.
Louisa.
After all these years, she has finally resurfaced.
I can feel my heart pounding, a mixture of rage and something else -something more dangerous - bubbling to the surface.
But why now? And why break into Travis’s pack?
Why not return home?
What the f**k has she been doing all these years as a rogue?
Does he regret it?
The foolish decision she made all those years?
And if she did, why not come back to where her family is?
To me and the honor and position of being Luna?
Why break into his pack?
“Explain,” I demand, my tone leaving no room for evasion.
“She broke into the packlands,” the scout says, his words spilling out in a rush, as if eager to rid himself of the burden. “But instead of killing her, Travis... he kept her. In his personal mansion.”
His personal mansion.
Not the pack mansion.
The bastard
The words ignite a firestorm of rage within me.
Travis.
That smug, insufferable bastard.
He has always been a thorn in my side, always trying to prove he is my equal or worse, my superior.
Showing off and having those idiotic alphas changes after him too.
Taking their respect and worship because of what?!
And now he has Louisa?
My Louisa?
My Luna?
I slam my fist onto the desk, the wood groaning under the force, the sound echoing through the room. “He kept her?” I hiss, the fury in my voice unmistakable.
“Yes, Alpha,” the scout whispers, as if afraid of the tempest his words have unleashed.
The surrounding air seems to crackle with energy, the room suffocating in its intensity. My muscles coil, every fiber of my being taut with the need for action.
I can feel my wolf growling under the surface and my claws begin to edge out.
Travis has crossed the f*****g line.
“Rally the warriors,” I order, my voice like ice. “We are going to Travis’s pack. We are going to retrieve Louisa. My luna”
The scout stares at me for a moment, as if not quite believing what he has just heard. But the fire in my eyes leaves no room for doubt. “Yes, Alpha,” he finally says, bowing low before retreating from the room.
I remain standing, the tension in the air palpable, the silence heavy. My thoughts whirl, each one more furious than the last.
Travis thinks he can take what is mine? He is wrong. He is dead wrong.
Louisa may have run from me once, but there will be no escape this time. No mercy. Only retribution
- Writer
