Sold to the Alpha With Silver Eyes - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

My eyes burn, stuck behind heavy eyelids as I smack my dry lips together. Groaning while trying to find the source of the annoying ringing in my ears. I can feel icy hands on my face, sending a shiver through my body that kick starts my sense of panic. My eyes crack open, a blob of a body in front of me, as I blink Zachariah’s face into focus.
“Hey, Eden.” He says, relief dripping from his voice. “Shit, you made me worried. I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last ten minutes.”
“What?” I slur, trying to make sense of what the hell he is saying. My body feels like it is filled with lead.
“That shit should have only knocked you out for an hour, tops.” He sighs, sitting back on his legs and dragging a hand over his face.
Everything floods in my mind at once. The way he snuck into my room, drugged me and now…shit. Where the hell are we now? I look around, nothing but deep forest with only a light glow of a small campfire stove.
“Where the hell are we?” I ask, swallowing roughly as I attempt to scoot away from him, desperate for some distance between us. His one brow drops as he tilts his head like a curious dog.
“The forest?” He responds like I am an idiot.
“Where, in the forest?” I bite out. “Did you take me off pack grounds?”
He rolls his eyes, standing and sauntering away from me over to the small portable stove and grabs a bag. My bag, to be precise, was the same one I had packed for when I was ready to make my great escape.
“Are you going to pretend you didn’t want this?” He asks, dropping it at my feet.
“To be kidnapped and dragged away?” I snort and he shrugs.
“Does the means really matter if you wanted to leave, anyway?”
I reach out for my bag, noticing my hands aren’t tied or restricted in any way. Then I scan down to my legs, noticing my ankles are boundless as well. He has a whole lot of faith in thinking I wanted to be stolen away.
What I wanted was freedom to get away and make my own decisions. Not to be taken by some deranged wolf who thinks he promised my family he would protect me.
I try to move my legs, but they barely move more than a muscle twitch, and I grunt in frustration. Zachariah watches me like a curious wild animal before he rummages around, his back to me and walks over, a cup of water coming toward me. If I wasn’t so parched, I would lick my lips as he brings it close.
“Easy,” He says, tilting it up and into my mouth like I’m a useless baby bird looking for food. The moment the liquid hits my lips, it’s like a wave rushes over me, my body coming to life and limbs releasing from their invisible hold.
“What is that?” I ask, my brows pulled together, and he chuckles.
“The antidote to what I gave you.” He grins, so proud of himself.
“So you drugged me…” I say slowly, my eyes narrowed on him as he realizes just how terrible it sounds to have said it out loud.
“Look, it was for your own good. Okay?”
I say nothing, opting to keep my anger to myself and use it for fuel to help get away from this crazed man.
“I know you don’t believe me, but your parents saved me, so I promised to look after you for them.”
“My parents have been dead for two years.” I grind out the words. “And if you wanted to look after me, you could have stolen me any time before now. I wasn’t being held prisoner where I was.”
Technically that’s not the complete truth. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, but that was a recent development, and I desperately wanted to prove to myself I could get out without anyone’s help. He snorts, walking away from me again before he turns around with a pouch and tosses it to me. I let it fall to my side before I reach out and pull the strings apart.
Inside the pouch is a wax paper wrapping around a handful of jerky. I extract a piece and bite into it, my eyes on him the whole time, unsure of what to expect from him next. He can claim he made a promise all he wants, but that doesn’t inspire a whole lot of trust from me.
“I’ve been searching for you.” He eventually admits. “You disappeared for a while, no trace or anything.”
“That is because I was sent into servitude as a maid to a dickhead Alpha who got his kicks abusing me.” I mumble the words, a shudder going through me, remembering where I was before everything turned chaotic. At least this kidnapper feeds me, which is a fair sight more than my last alpha did.
“You realize you aren’t the only werewolf with a similar sob story, right?” He asks, scoffing at me.
“Yeah, I am well aware.” I bite out, annoyed at his words.
Yes, there are many who have suffered worse fates than mine. I at least grew up with loving parents and a brother I was actually close to. But knowing that doesn’t erase their pained cries in my dreams. It doesn’t erase the scars on my skin or that way my brain reacts to certain words or tones.
“When you are ready to move, we can get walking again.” He murmurs, turning his back to me as he breaks up tiny sticks, shoving them into the small portable metal stove he has set up.
“Where is this home of yours?” I ask, and he ignores the question.
“Most everyone should get along with you fine.” He muses to himself, as if he is worried about my getting along with his family.
“Like your parents?” I ask, and he barks out a laugh.
“No, I am an orphan.” He shrugs.
“Like me.” I whisper, a pang of sorrow in my chest watching as he looks over his shoulder at me, his face tight and his eyes filled with a pain that matches mine, but he doesn’t respond. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before he moves back over to me.
“Where I am taking you is a huge secret, somewhere no one can ever find you or find out about. But you will have the freedom to join us or leave us.” He is serious, not a glimmer of joking as he meets my eyes. “This isn’t something we offer people who don’t prove themselves and it is an honor extended to you only because of who your family is.”
It dawns on me, like the sun rising in the east on a clear day. My parents and brother died traitors, so it makes sense they would have people they worked with, people they trusted. But he makes it seem like it is a big enough movement to have a hidden town where no one can get to them. Like a safe house for those who defy the king and his laws.
“I want nothing to do with traitors.” I mumble, my chest growing tight as anger grows.
This fucking movement, this place he is taking me to, is what my parents chose over me. It’s proof they not only betrayed the king but their own blood and kept it a secret. I wasn’t worthy enough for them to know their secrets.
He shrugs, his hands coming up to his side as he tilts his head and exhales.
“What is worse, betraying an evil king or betraying your moral compass?” He asks, watching me closely. I turn away, refusing to answer him out of sheer stubbornness. The moment I hear him leave me again I reach down, touching my legs and verifying I can in fact feel them before I shove up from the ground, shoving the pack of jerky into my pocket and take off sprinting through the woods.
Zachariah doesn’t seem to notice at first, or so I assume, when I hear his angry crying out of my name. I have no idea which direction we came from, no way to determine which way is safe for me to go, but I run anyway, tired of letting everyone else make decisions for me.
My legs propel me forward, ducking and weaving as the vegetation grows thicker and the ability to see becomes near impossible. I stub my toes on a hard object, a gasp ripping form my lips as I lurch forward, tumbling down a hill, hitting small trees and what I assume are protruding rocks that slice through my skin with ease before I come to a halt with bone bruising speed in the crux of a tree on the side of a hill.
I blink the pain away, my lungs burning as I wheeze, trying to force the air into me. Shit, I need to get up and move, but my body is twisted in such a way I can’t shake myself free. So Instead I lay, unmoving, until the sun peeks through the thick leaves, little strands of light hitting me as I groan.
Hands grab my shoulders before digging under my arms and scooping me up, dragging me away from the tree trunk. Zachariah looks annoyed as he looks at me over, lifting my shirt to check my side as I lay there in pain, refusing to move. He sighs before he checks on my food, removing my shoes, and I see him look back at me with a sour face.
“You broke your fucking foot because you are too stubborn.” He says accusatory. “Your family would be so disappointed in you.”
His words are meant to sting me, but they make me laugh.
“Why the hell should I care about what the dead think of me?” I hiss, wincing as he presses into my foot.
“Now I have to carry you.” He mutters, loading me up as I protest and feebly try to fight him off. “Cut it out, I don’t have the time or patience for your shit anymore,” he growls, “And if I have to, I will use that poison on you again to at least make you cooperate. So either do this awake or drugged, your choice.”
My defiant little spark explodes, and I kick as hard as possible.
“Poison my ass, because I am not going with you on my own free will.”