The Unforgiving Moon

36.

I woke up dready, still recovering from a restless night.

Firstly, I'd see Benjamin again. I had no idea where he was, but immediately after our meeting, Lotta had gone and sent some of her best men to look for him. If anyone could do it, it'd surely be some of the best men of Death Moon's best assassin.

How Lotta had men to begin with, I had no idea. I had never heard anything about it, but she seemed much more involved in Rahas than a regular assassin would be.

Sometimes I just completely forgot what Lotta actually was. My best friend got paid for murdering people. Yet when I looked at her, I could see no viciousness. I saw a bubbly, open person, who could laugh and drink like no other. 

Though lately, that hadn't been the case either. I also still couldn't stop thinking about her incident at the training grounds. All the bust lips and blue eyes suddenly made more sense, yet none at all, either.

But yesterday's meeting showed me how little I actually knew my best friend. How few she shared with me. Perhaps she only shared what she was allowed to, or perhaps she just didn't want me to know.

In any case, someone was keeping me out of the loop.

But that would change when Benjamin would arrive. He'd want me to be involved, and Lotta had insisted on it, too.

Aven still didn't seem to trust me, though. Not fully.

I wasn't sure if I blamed him for it. Moons knew what happened during his time in Beckett's cells, all the things Beckett said and did to him, how he twisted and warped his mind into a new shape it was never meant to be. I knew well enough how Beckett's touch lingered, and how damaging it was.

It still hurt, though. And I was forced to face it every day now that we trained together.

He was a patient teacher, he'd always kept calm around me, so my feelings wouldn't run wild.

I knew that would not be the case today: we were on our way to the dungeons. 

"You are dismissed," Aven said a few steps ahead of me, and the two guarding wolves disappeared, like leaves in the wind.

Once they left, Aven started marching down the steps and motioned for me to follow him.

I couldn't do it, though. I couldn't go back there.

Aven stopped walking and turned around slowly, looking at me with narrowed eyes, stuck in a puzzled look. Only for a brief moment, because his expression soon made room for a veil of realization falling over his face.

It softened the harshness of his features a little bit—some of the wrinkles in between his brows eased away, and his lips looked more relaxed.

"You are safe here," Aven said, but it didn't matter. "You are in control."

Was I, though? My entire problem was that I didn't have any control. And now I needed that control all of the time, every waking moment of every day, for the rest of my life. Because if I let go of that control for just one moment, people would die. 

People in those cells were waiting to die, too. At my hands.

Which was another reason why I could not go down there. 

Aven showed no mercy. "I do not like repeating myself, young wolf," he grumbled. "Come down." A low, subtle growl cornered his order.

And so my legs moved down, submissively obeying my Alpha.

Every other part of me wanted to run the other way. My legs didn't listen, as they mindlessly made their way down the steps.

And then the smell of those dungeons—it nearly made me heave.