Page 20 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
The subtle shift in my father had started earlier this morning. I’d caught it at breakfast. The tightening around his eyes when Mom mentioned visiting her sister, the slight twitch in his jawwhen he sipped his coffee, gripping his mug so tight I thought it might shatter, — warning signs I’d already learned to recognize even at my young age.
I freeze mid-dribble, clutching the ball in both hands. I should go inside. I should help her. But my feet won’t move.
Another crash. My father responds without words, letting his fists do all the talking.
My mother is sobbing. I start dribbling again, harder now, begging for the sound of the ball to drown out her cries.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The basketball becomes my anchor as tears blur my vision. My hands tremble, but I can’t stop.
“You’re a worthless piece of trash!” My father’s voice cuts through the walls like they’re made of paper. His shouting is followed by the sound of glass breaking.
I bounce harder. I want to run inside. I want to stand up to him, like a man. But if I go in there, he’ll turn on me too. I’ll just make it worse, make him more mad. And my arms already have bruises that I have to hide from my teachers.
If I stay out here, he’ll eventually calm down.God, I hope she’ll be okay.
Tears stream down my face, but I keep bouncing this stupid ball, pretending I can’t hear her pain.
I startle awake, all my muscles seized and my skin covered in a cold sweat, my heart going a hundred miles an hour. Shame washes over me, that old familiar guilt that’s never gone away. That wasn’t the first time nor the last time my father hurt my mother, and I still hate myself for being so weak. So useless. Yes, I was just a kid, but I wish I had done something.Anything.
The infirmary’s stone walls glow with a soft amber light from oil lamps hanging in iron brackets. The crisp scent of dried herbs bundled in the rafters mingles with something antiseptic. A wool blanket scratches against my skin as I shift. A hand lands on myshoulder and I flinch, still caught in the memory of my father’s rage and my childhood cowardice.
“Hey, hey. It’s all right.” The voice isn’t my father’s. I look up and see that it’s the tall blond guy from the guard and I remember. I’m not in Creek Falls anymore.
My brain automatically scans his face, a habit I can’t turn off. Pupils normal, breathing steady, shoulders relaxed. No danger signals. But there’s a tightness around his eyes that reminds me of how someone looks when they’re holding back. My childhood survival radar is pinging softly.
I sit up and put my hand over my face. I’m soaking wet with sweat. “Shit,” I whisper.
“You must have been having some dream,” the blond says. “You were talking in your sleep.”
I wonder what I said, what I revealed. I take a moment to regulate my breathing.Read the room first, then decide how to play it.“Somebody send you to keep an eye on me?”
“Yes. The Commander did.”
I nod as my predicament comes back to me. I’m Thea’s bestie, so my life is valuable. At least for now. “I’m fine,” I say. “You can report that back to her.”
He shrugs. “You can do it yourself once you’re healed.”
“Healed,” I scoff. “I just had the wind knocked out of me. I’m fine.”
He snickers.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
“Conan.”
“Conan?” I laugh. “Seriously?”
He glares at me, but his smile remains. “You have a problem with my name?”
“No, no. Sorry.” I need to stop forgetting that I’m not at home anymore.
“I suppose my name means something idiotic where you’re from?”
“No, I mean. . .it would take too long to explain, but there’s a character in a movie that has your name. He’s a warrior, so that’s good.”
Conan raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay. You know, you took quite a hit from Jayme for a guy that ‘just got the wind knocked out of him’. Believe it or not, it’s impressive.”
“Is it?”
