The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120: 120: Drenched.

~ ROSELLE ~

Sleep doesn’t come easy. I lose count of how many times I toss from one end of the bed to the other, staring blankly at the ceiling, tracing every tiny crack and pattern with my eyes until I know them by heart. When lying still becomes unbearable, I pace around the room like a caged animal, my mind refusing to quiet no matter how desperately I want it to.

Every possible outcome runs through my head.

If I leave Blackshadow, I’m running away from the mess I helped create. I’d be abandoning Ronan when he’s fighting the darkest battle of his life, and I’d spend every waking moment wondering if there was something more I could’ve done.

But staying isn’t any easier. Staying means waking up every day knowing Ravenna hates me, knowing Mara will seize every opportunity to make my life miserable, and knowing I could very well become her favorite punching bag.

Neither choice feels like a choice at all.

A dull ache throbs through my knees, drawing my attention back to the fresh wounds left by the broken glass. My palms aren’t any better. The shards had cut far deeper than I’d realized, and despite spending what felt like forever picking out the larger pieces, some tiny fragments still remain buried inside my skin.

Every time I move my hands or bend my knees, the cuts sting all over again, serving as a painful reminder of everything that happened.

I let out a weary sigh and close my eyes, but sleep remains just as far away as it was hours ago. I finally surrender to exhaustion sometime around three in the morning.

The darkness pulls me under so completely that I don’t even remember falling asleep. Something freezing crashes over my body.

The icy shock tears me out of sleep as I bolt upright with a violent gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. Every inch of me is soaked, the cold seeping through my clothes and straight into my bones while my still-sleepy mind struggles to understand what the hell is happening.

"What the fuck?" I grit out through chattering teeth.

My bed is completely drenched. Water pools across the mattress, soaking the blankets and pillows until there’s no dry spot left. Even my hair clings to my face, dripping onto my shoulders.

I blink the sleep from my eyes and look toward the foot of the bed.

Mara.

She’s standing there with an empty wooden bucket dangling from one hand, a devilish smirk stretched across her face as though this is the funniest thing she’s ever witnessed.

"Wake up, bitch," she says, tossing the bucket onto the floor with a loud clatter. "Beauty sleep clearly isn’t doing you any favors."

"Are you fucking insane?" I snap, throwing the drenched blanket off me as I scramble to my feet.

The sudden movement sends a sharp sting through my palms and knees. The cuts from yesterday, which had only just begun to clot, burn all over again as the icy water seeps into every open wound.

I hiss through my teeth, unable to stop the pained gasp that escapes me. The freezing water feels like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into my skin, setting every scrape and laceration on fire.

My fists clench at my sides as I glare at Mara, my wet hair dripping onto the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand, my voice trembling with a mixture of pain and fury. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

Mara lets out a slow, amused laugh, completely unbothered by my anger.

"Oh, good. You can still shout." She tilts her head, a smug grin spreading across her face. "For a second there, I thought I’d drowned the mute in her sleep."

She folds her arms across her chest and casually leans against the doorframe.

"Don’t look at me like that. Consider this your morning alarm."

Her gaze slowly travels over my soaked clothes before she wrinkles her nose in exaggerated disgust.

"You’re lucky it was only cold water. I almost asked the kitchen for ice."

She lets out another laugh, clearly pleased with herself. "Get dressed," she says. "You’ve got chores."

I stare at her in disbelief.

"Didn’t Ravenna tell you?" Mara asks with a fake pout. "Since you’re so determined to stay in Blackshadow, you’ve earned your place."

Her smirk widens. "You’re no longer the future Luna because I am, Roselle." her smile turns positively wicked. "You’re the help."

She pauses, pretending to think it over before letting out a laugh.

"No... that doesn’t quite capture it." Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. "Slave. That’s a much better word."

She points a finger at me. "My slave, and if I have to wake you by tomorrow, then tomorrow’s bucket won’t just be filled with water."

My hand tightens into a fist, my Lycan claws threatening to emerge under my fingertips. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to breathe through the blinding anger as I glare daggers at her retreating figure.

If looks could kill, Mara would’ve dropped dead where she stood. The door suddenly opens again before I can react. Celeste steps inside, a breakfast tray balanced carefully in her hands.

Her gaze immediately narrows from Mara to me. The moment she takes in my drenched clothes, the soaked bed, and the murderous look on my face, all the color drains from hers.

"Roselle..." she breathes, her voice filled with shock. "What the hell happened?"

"Hey." Mara snaps her fingers impatiently. "Hand me that."

Celeste instinctively tightens her grip on the breakfast tray instead of moving. "No. This is for Roselle."

Mara lets out a mocking laugh.

"For Roselle?" she repeats, as though the idea is absurd. "Since when do maids get breakfast served to them?"

"I want the water hot, fresh towels laid out, and scented oils waiting for me."

She claps her hands once. "And I want both of those things done immediately."

I slowly shake my head, refusing to let her see even a fracture in my resolve. Hell no. This isn’t happening. I won’t give her the satisfaction of watching me break.

"That isn’t happening," I say, my voice quiet but steady as I meet her gaze without looking away.

Mara lets out a soft, mocking laugh before casually flipping her hair over one shoulder. The smug smile on her face only widens as though my refusal is nothing more than childish defiance.

"I’m going to give you one last chance, Roselle," she says, her tone deceptively calm. "Think very carefully before you answer me."

I fold my arms across my chest despite the sting shooting through my wounded palms. Each cut on my body protests the movement, but I force myself to ignore the pain.

"And I said," I reply, emphasizing every word, "that’s not happening."

Silence settles over the room.

Mara studies me for a long moment, the amusement slowly disappearing from her face as something colder takes its place.

A slow smile curls across her lips.

"So..." she murmurs. "You’d rather learn the hard way."

She doesn’t even bother looking at the guards.

"Take her."

The two royal guards move instantly.

Heavy boots thud against the floor as they close the distance between us, their broad frames blocking any path to the door.

Celeste immediately steps in front of me, her arms spread wide despite the fresh handprint still glowing on her cheek.

"You’ll have to go through me first," she says, her voice shaking but determined.

Neither guard hesitates. One of them grabs Celeste by the arm while the other shoves her aside with enough force to send her stumbling across the room.

"Celeste!" I cry, instinctively taking a step toward her.

She crashes into a nearby dresser, the breakfast tray slipping from her hands before clattering onto the floor. Plates shatter on impact, food scattering across the wooden floor as she winces and struggles to push herself back up.