Little Red and the Big Bad Alpha - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading Little Red and the Big Bad Alpha, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of Little Red and the Big Bad Alpha.
After escaping Kael's pack, I used every ounce of remaining strength to reach Willowmere.
This hidden sanctuary was remote and hard to find, but it was my home.
When the familiar wooden door opened, I'd burned through my last reserves of energy.
My mentor looked confused. Before I could speak, darkness claimed me.
I woke up three days later to the scent of healing herbs in the air. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
Looking down, I saw my right hand immobilized in bamboo splints. Silver needles ran from my wrist to my shoulder, channeling warm energy through my damaged meridians.
Seeing those needles reminded me of my destroyed moonsilver needles. The pain hit like a blade to the heart.
"Master, I'm sorry..."
"Don't move." His steady voice came from beside the bed. He placed a clean cloth between my teeth. "Bite down."
The next second, he took up a silver knife and began cutting away infected tissue from my wound.
His movements were precise and gentle, but I still shook from the agony.
After a moment, he set down the knife and sighed. "You're alive. That's what matters."
Recovery was torture. Physical therapy for my right hand was pure hell.
Every attempt to flex, every effort to grip sent tearing pain through my arm.
A few days later, my mentor had to leave for an emergency consultation. He left me in the care of a young man.
Turns out, while I was gone, he'd taken on a new student.
His name was Dante. Tall, warm, with an easy smile that seemed to light up the whole cottage.
But something about him felt familiar, like I'd seen him somewhere before.
One evening, under a perfect moon, we sat together on stone benches in the garden. He'd made special healing tea and deliberately placed it near my injured hand.
"Don't be afraid," Dante said gently. "Practicing small movements will help you recover faster."
I stared at my bandaged wrist with bitter resignation. "It's hopeless. It'll never be the same."
Without warning, Dante's hands enveloped my injured one. His smile was soft, comforting.
"That hand has saved so many lives," he said, carefully taking my fingers in his. "It's just tired now, resting. We need to give it time."
He paused, then added softly, "What matters isn't whether it heals perfectly. What matters is that it's still yours, still part of you. That's enough."
Tears flowed silently down my cheeks—not from pain or fear this time, but from a warmth I hadn't felt since escaping those dungeons.
Dante didn't offer empty comfort. He simply wiped my tears away with gentle fingers.
Mountain wind stirred through the garden as I found peace for the first time in months.
Yet three days later, that peace shattered completely.
News reached us: Alpha Kael's paralysis had returned. He was holding my mentor prisoner, demanding I return to heal his failing legs.
I knew this was his way of forcing me back to him.
This hidden sanctuary was remote and hard to find, but it was my home.
When the familiar wooden door opened, I'd burned through my last reserves of energy.
My mentor looked confused. Before I could speak, darkness claimed me.
I woke up three days later to the scent of healing herbs in the air. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
Looking down, I saw my right hand immobilized in bamboo splints. Silver needles ran from my wrist to my shoulder, channeling warm energy through my damaged meridians.
Seeing those needles reminded me of my destroyed moonsilver needles. The pain hit like a blade to the heart.
"Master, I'm sorry..."
"Don't move." His steady voice came from beside the bed. He placed a clean cloth between my teeth. "Bite down."
The next second, he took up a silver knife and began cutting away infected tissue from my wound.
His movements were precise and gentle, but I still shook from the agony.
After a moment, he set down the knife and sighed. "You're alive. That's what matters."
Recovery was torture. Physical therapy for my right hand was pure hell.
Every attempt to flex, every effort to grip sent tearing pain through my arm.
A few days later, my mentor had to leave for an emergency consultation. He left me in the care of a young man.
Turns out, while I was gone, he'd taken on a new student.
His name was Dante. Tall, warm, with an easy smile that seemed to light up the whole cottage.
But something about him felt familiar, like I'd seen him somewhere before.
One evening, under a perfect moon, we sat together on stone benches in the garden. He'd made special healing tea and deliberately placed it near my injured hand.
"Don't be afraid," Dante said gently. "Practicing small movements will help you recover faster."
I stared at my bandaged wrist with bitter resignation. "It's hopeless. It'll never be the same."
Without warning, Dante's hands enveloped my injured one. His smile was soft, comforting.
"That hand has saved so many lives," he said, carefully taking my fingers in his. "It's just tired now, resting. We need to give it time."
He paused, then added softly, "What matters isn't whether it heals perfectly. What matters is that it's still yours, still part of you. That's enough."
Tears flowed silently down my cheeks—not from pain or fear this time, but from a warmth I hadn't felt since escaping those dungeons.
Dante didn't offer empty comfort. He simply wiped my tears away with gentle fingers.
Mountain wind stirred through the garden as I found peace for the first time in months.
Yet three days later, that peace shattered completely.
News reached us: Alpha Kael's paralysis had returned. He was holding my mentor prisoner, demanding I return to heal his failing legs.
I knew this was his way of forcing me back to him.
End of Little Red and the Big Bad Alpha Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to Little Red and the Big Bad Alpha book page.