The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23: 023: A Fool’s Freedom

~ ROSELLE ~

I’ve made up my mind. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra I’m trying to drill deep enough into my chest that it stops feeling hollow. I’m leaving, tonight.

It should feel like relief. It should feel like something solid and certain, just the way a decision is supposed to feel once it’s been made. Instead, my chest won’t stop heaving, and my hands won’t stop trembling, and every time I try to breathe through it the air comes out wrong, like there isn’t quite enough of it in the room.

I press my back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling.

Dr. Elias had come in earlier for his evening check. I’d noticed immediately that the nurse beside him was different, not the nurse who had been with him the previous visit. It struck me as odd for a brief moment, but Elias had been his usual calm, methodical self, checking my pulse, asking about pain, reminding me to eat before sleeping. Whatever the reason for the change, it was probably nothing. Maybe it’s a scheduling issue, or a shift change.

I wasn’t going to let myself think too hard about it. I mean, I have enough to think about already.

I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, running my hands through my hair.

You’re doing the right thing, I remind myself. You’re doing the only smart thing.

I shut my eyes closed, intending for those words to sink deep into my brain, but oh well, that is indeed a big mistake, because the darkness only makes it worse.

All I can see is his face, soft and caring, grey eyes peering into my very hazel ones as he asks, "Are you okay?"

The way he’d brushed the hair from my face in the garden without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The one from last night when I wake up screaming from the nightmare and he gathers me in his arms and says, "You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you,"

I blink my eyes open. "Stop it, Roselle"

But my brain doesn’t seem to stop. It’s as if overthinking is its forte. It keeps pulling up memories of the breakfast tray and the way he’d spoon fed me. How he warned his pack members to apologize to me and call me his Luna in his presence.

I press the heels of my palms against my eyes until I see stars.

Am I stupid? Is that what this is? Am I genuinely, irreparably stupid?

’That’s exactly the problem,’ a voice in my head whispers back. ’That’s exactly what Mara said.’

And she’s right. This is how the trap closes, you feel cared for, you feel seen. You feel chosen. And then the crush comes and you’re already too far inside to escape.

That’s what happened to the other women. That’s what’s happening to me right now.

He’s feeding on my brain. This is precisely the trap... Mara voice rings over my head again, ’He gets under your skin so deeply, and patiently that by the time you realize what’s happening, leaving feels impossible. He doesn’t cage you with bars or chains or locked doors. He cages you with grey eyes and warm hands and the kind of gentleness that makes you forget every reason you had to be afraid. And then the curse takes you anyway.’

I think about that, forcing myself to sit with it, and let it sink deep into my brain, the exact way I used to force myself to stay awake during the worst nights in Warren’s cell because sleeping meant being caught off guard.

I try a different approach this time, closing my eyes again, and trying to drown it all out, trying to focus on the plan, on Mara’s words, on the address hidden in the fabric of my dress.

It isn’t working. It fucking isn’t.

My eyes fly open. I press my fist against my mouth to keep from making a sound that I can’t make anyway.

What part of this is hard to sink in Roselle?

’He’s going to kill you eventually, Roselle. That’s what happens. That’s what the pattern is.’

I repeat it like a mantra. Over and over. Flowers. Library. Piano. Six dead women. Flowers. Library. Piano. Six dead women.

The sudden knock on my door jerks me out of my thoughts, my eyes shooting toward it. My head snaps in its direction, my pulse lurching. For one terrible second, I think it’s him.

The door opens, and as expected, Mara walks in, camouflaged as Celeste just like before, much to my relief.

"Are you ready?" she asks without preamble.

I look at her.

My chest is heaving like I’ve been running. My hands are trembling. Every part of me is screaming that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that I should call out for him even though I can’t make sound and he’d probably never hear me anyway and...

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