Game of Thrones (Amica and Deckard) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120

Chapter 120

Amica

I feel uneasy ever since Deckard told me about his battle with the Scarface man. He is a dangerous maniac, and there’s something cerie about him. I know Deckard is strong enough to defeat all his enemies, but this particular one doesn’t play

fair.

Before I even wake up in the morning, Deckard is already gone. I thought I was up early enough to catch him, to wish him well before he left, but I am too late.

The unease stays with me all day. I can’t eat, can’t focus on anything–1 just wait. I pace around the compound, restless, eyes scanning the distance for any sign of him.

That’s when it hits me.

I might have fallen hopelessly in love with this man.

I have never worried about anyone like this before, and it terrifies me. This is Alpha Deckard. The Alpha of Alphas. I have seen what he can do with his fire–it is unlike anything I have ever witnessed. He is a force to be reckoned with.

So why am I afraid?

It’s foolish. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong.

I rejected breakfast earlier, and I still have no appetite for food. As I pace back and forth, lost in my thoughts, I suddenly feel a hand tap me.

“My Luna…”

I turn to see one of the servants standing before me.

“Lunch is ready. Please come and eat…

“What? I am not hungry!” I say, waving her off, hoping she will leave me alone.

She hesitates for a moment but eventually walks away. However, before I can continue pacing, I see Bria approaching.

“My Luna, please,” she says gently. “You do not need to worry about the Alpha. He will return soon. Please, come eat.”

“Bria, I do not need food right now. I am not hungry.

She studies me carefully before asking. “So what do you need?”

What I need is for Deckard to return safely, but I know that no one–not even Deckard himself–can grant me that assurance. I take a deep breath, thinking about how to distract myself, how to pass the time without going mad with worry.

For some reason, my thoughts drift to the prisoner–Collin. I have not had the opportunity to visit him because Deckard would never allow it.

“Can I see the prisoner?” I ask suddenly.

Bria’s face goes numb. “What prisoner, my Luna?”

“You know what prisoner I’m talking about, Bria…”

Bria hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s dangerous. He hasn’t had food for

weeks…”

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15:47 Mon, 24 Feb

Chapter 120

“Then get me food. A lot of it. And bring two servants with me. Let me know when it’s ready.”

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Bria’s face is filled with uncertainty, but I don’t give her a chance to argue. I turn away and continue pacing, my thoughts too restless to settle.

“Hello, Luna!”

A voice calls out behind me, laced with a hint of mockery.

Of course. It’s Mary.

I sigh and turn to her, already irritated. “Mary. How may I help you?”

She smirks. “I see you’re restless. Pacing around like a little lost puppy…”

My patience snaps. “Mary, I suggest you watch your tone before you say anything more. I can order you thrown into a cell and leave you there for life.”

Mary raises her hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “Easy, Luna. This isn’t the Alpha’s first rodeo. He always comes back. To me… or to you, in this case.”

She smiles, and I feel my fingers twitch with the urge to slap that smug look off her face.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I walk away, my heart too heavy to waste time on her nonsense. She is the least of my problems right now.

An hour later, two servants approach, balancing trays of food in their hands. Two guards step beside me, their presence a silent reminder that what I’m about to do isn’t entirely safe. With a deep breath, I nod, and we proceed toward the prison.

The moment the door creaks open, a heavy, putrid scent rushes at me–urine, dampness, something rotten and unfamiliar. My stomach clenches, but I press forward, following the flickering torchlight down the narrow stairway.

It feels endless, like descending into another world, one where hope no longer exists. The air grows colder, thicker, suffocating. And then we reach it–the main cell.

My eyes land on him.

Collin lies on the ground, chained like an animal, his body weak, frail, barely recognizable. My chest tightens at the sight.

“Collin,” I call softly, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

1 step closer, forcing my voice to remain steady. “I brought you food. Please, eat.”

I nod toward one of the guards, and he hesitates before placing the tray just within Collin’s reach. But Collin doesn’t react.

For a second, I wonder if he even has the strength to.

The moment the scent of food reaches him, Collin moves with startling speed. His frail hands grasp the first piece of meat, and he devours it like a starving animal. His teeth tear through the flesh, his jaw working furiously as he chokes it down, barely chewing.

We watch in silence, the only sound in the cell the wet, desperate sounds of his eating.

Then–he begins to choke.

His body convulses, coughs wracking his frame as he clutches at his throat. My breath catches. For a moment, I think he might collapse right here. I glance at the guards, but they only exchange looks before one of them gives me a slight nod.

Let him be.

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Chapter 120

My hands tighten into fists, but I don’t interfere. After what feels like an eternity, he manages to grab the water bottle and downs it in one breath. A long exhale escapes him before he resumes eating–this time, slower.

1 step closer, my voice steady but firm.

“I need to speak with you, Collin.”

He finally lifts his head, and our eyes meet. His are hollow, sunken–full of years of anger and something even darker.

Then, his lips curl, his voice a raspy growl.

“You. This is all your fault. If you had come with us willingly, none of this would have happened. You would be happy with Darth by now.”

His breath is heavy, ragged with exhaustion, but his words still drip with venom.

“Tell me… what makes you think you’re too good for my son? What is so special about Deckard that you chose him over Darth?”

The weight of his words sinks into me like a stone. Darth is his son? I feel my pulse quicken as I process the revelation. The Scarface man–the monster who has been tormenting Deckard, who has been clawing at his very existence–is Collin’s son.

His voice drips with resentment, every syllable carrying years of bitterness.

“Yes, my one and only son! My only seed, stolen from his inheritance just like I was. Oh, Uther is doing it again–what he did to me, he’s doing to my son! History repeating itself like a cursed cycle! We do not deserve this!”

I frown, my mind struggling to keep up. His words burn with something deeper than anger–something rooted in a past I barely understand.

“What?” I murmur, more to myself than to him. The way he speaks, the weight of his accusations… there is something more to this than I’ve been told.

I glance at the guards, their presence suddenly feeling intrusive. I need answers–now.

“Everyone, leave,” I command.

One of the guards hesitates. “Luna, he is dangerous. And now that you’ve given him food, we don’t know what he might do.”

“Fine. Stand by the door. If anything happens, you’ll reach me in time.”