My Alpha Wants Two Lunas? I'M Done (Laila and Holt) novel Chapter 171

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Every time the carriage stopped and his little head emerged from within, the moment his eyes found me, he would act like prey catching sight of a predator.

When he climbed down, he would immediately duck behind Laila, not daring to peek out.

If I took so much as a single step closer, his entire body would go rigid.

That tension was the kind of instinct a wolf cub has in the wild when it scents a natural predator. His back arched, muscles locking into place. His breathing turned shallow. He became small, coiled, ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

But I wasn’t the enemy here.

I was the one who had pulled him out of that hell.

I found myself reaching for the note again, reading through it one painstaking word at a time.

Those crooked letters, some of them misspelled, had seared themselves into my mind like brands.

“A tall, fierce man like him would whip us.

“He would kick us.

“He would hold their heads down for a very long time, until they could barely breathe, before pulling them out.”

A thread of violence stirred beneath my ribs.

It was the kind that surfaced only on the battlefield, when something ancient and merciless rose from the marrow of a wolf’s blood.

Those men. Even if they fled to the ends of the earth, I would hunt them down. I would tear their throats out and let them taste what it felt like to have their heads forced underwater until their lungs burned.

For Raymond.

For those three thousand children.

For every single life they had shattered.

The following morning, I began my attempt to correct matters.

I deliberately softened my voice and slowed my movements.

Before appearing in Raymond’s line of sight, I drew in a steady breath and forced down the battlefield

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Chapter 171 I’m Really Not a Bad Person

brutality that had long since seeped into my bones.

I even attempted to smile.

For reasons I didn’t fully understand, that only made things worse.

The look he gave me suggested a wolf baring its teeth rather than a man offering reassurance.

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Griffin found the entire situation endlessly entertaining. He rolled through the back of my consciousness with unrestrained amusement.

“Samuel, do you have any idea what you look like when you smile? You look like a wolf who’s just finished feasting on raw meat, still dripping blood from your jaws, trying to act friendly!”

“Shut up,” I snapped back at him.

“No, truly. Next time, look in a mirror first. That wasn’t a smile. That was the expression you wore before you bit someone.”

I ignored him.

Two days of this yielded precisely nothing. If anything, my attempts at smiling seemed counterproductive as hell.

Damn it.

I adjusted my approach.

Instead of directing my efforts at Raymond, I focused them on Laila.

I offered my hand to help her down from the carriage. I passed her water when she looked thirsty. I asked if she needed another cloak when the wind picked up–all the small, solicitous gestures that signaled care and attention.

At first, she had been caught off guard by the sudden warmth in my behavior, uncertain how to receive it. But Laila was perceptive. It didn’t take long for comprehension to dawn in her eyes.

She fell into step with the performance beautifully.

When I was gentle with her, she responded warmly. When I was attentive, she accepted openly.

We played our parts in silent collusion, staging this little theater for a small audience of one, hoping Raymond would see it.

Look how well I treat your Aunt Laila. I’m one of the good ones. You can trust me.

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