CHAPTER 106: HELPING TO CONCENTRATE...

Back at the Blood Moon pack estate, Rick sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. His jaw was tight as he thought about so many things at the same time.

Alia was pacing by the windows, going on about... something; maybe the decorations for the next celebration, or a dressmaker who had upset her. She also mentioned someone’s rude daughter. But Rick could only catch about every fifth word.

He wasn’t really there.

His mind had been trapped since the last time Emerald visited.

He didn’t want to think about her at all. He’d spent weeks training himself not to, convincing himself that she was a manipulator, a liar, and just someone who played games. That her showing up here had been some stunt, another way to get under his skin or try to get his attention.

And yet...

And yet, everything about her that day had felt real. Her eyes, her voice, her words, none of it seemed fake. It wasn’t the same Emerald who used to play coy with him and make him jealous for sport.

No... this version spoke with honesty in her voice and strength in her stance.

That was the part that scared him.

She hadn’t come to beg, hadn’t even tried to win him back. She had come... to walk away.

And that fact haunted him more than he wanted to admit.

"I said," Alia’s voice cut sharply into his thoughts, "that the seamstress in Sector Eight ruined the fabric order. Were you even listening to me?"

Rick blinked and sat up straight. "Sorry. No. I was... thinking about something from work."

Alia narrowed her eyes for a second, lips tightening. Then she let it go.

"Work," she said with a sly smile, climbing onto the bed beside him. "You’ve been thinking about work a lot lately."

Rick didn’t respond.

Alia leaned in, pressing her chest against his arm. "Maybe I can help you... concentrate."

Her fingers started tracing light circles on his chest. "When are we going to try again, hmm?" she whispered. "You remember what we said? We were going to have another baby. Give this pack something to celebrate."

Rick shifted slightly. Her hand was already on the third button of his shirt, slowly working it free.

"Alia..."

She kissed just beneath his jaw. "We were so close, Rick. And I know we were both heartbroken. But we can try again."

Her lips grazed his ear. "Let’s try now."

Her hands slipped lower, reaching under the waistline of his trousers.

Rick took a quick breath, but it wasn’t from desire. His body responded, yet his heart was absent. He felt distant, and his mind had been elsewhere for a long time.

Alia straddled him now, her lips brushing against his neck, her hips shifting in soft rhythm. "We’ll be parents again, Rick. This time, nothing will go wrong."

Her voice was sweet, and her movements were smooth and deliberate. But all Rick could think about was a different woman. One who would have punched him instead of trying to charm him. One who never told him any lies.

Emerald.

Her name cut through his thoughts like a flash of lightning. And suddenly, as if the moment shattered, Rick grabbed Alia’s hips and pushed her off him.

She landed on the bed with a surprised gasp. "What the hell?!"

He stood up fast, adjusting his shirt with shaking hands. "I’m sorry," he muttered.

Her expression twisted. "You’re sorry?" she asked incredulously. "You... you push me off like I’m some whore, and you’re sorry?"

Rick didn’t answer. He moved toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Out," he said. "I need... I need air."

"Rick!"

But he was already gone.

—

The hallway was empty, cold and quiet.

Rick walked with no real destination, mind screaming, fists clenched.

He felt a deep mix of frustration, anger, and guilt coursing through him. In a moment of impulse, he smashed his shoulder into a stone wall, making a loud thud that caught the attention of a nearby guard.

He didn’t care.

Why? Why the hell did she have to come back now?

He had tried so hard to hate her, to convince himself that she was selfish. That she’d been playing games with his heart for power or control or whatever nonsense Alia had whispered into his ears.

But she hadn’t.

Emerald had looked at him with pain in her eyes and love buried deep. And instead of offering her the comfort she deserved, he had spat venom at her.

And now he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without tasting her name on his tongue.

"Why is she being so damn stubborn," he muttered under his breath, "when I’m finally ready to take her back?"

He didn’t have an answer.

So he turned around and made his way back through the corridors. He stopped at Alia’s room, intending to apologise for earlier, if only to keep the peace.

But when he opened the door, the room was empty.

Her sweet scent lingered in the air, but it was slowly fading away. "Alia?" he called.

No answer.

Rick stepped inside, frowning. Maybe she’d gone to the gardens. Or the kitchen. Or... He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He sat on the edge of her bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You really messed this up," he muttered to himself.

His eyes scanned the room absentmindedly, and he noticed one of her drawers slightly ajar.

He stared at it for a moment, then stood.

Maybe she’d left in a hurry.

He walked over and opened the drawer all the way. At first, everything seemed normal. There was underwear, some jewellery, perfume, and a small diary that he left untouched.

But as he started to push the drawer back in, he felt something move. There was a faint rattle. Rick stopped. He reached into the drawer and moved aside a silk scarf. The rattle sounded again.

He ran his fingers along the back of the drawer and felt something small stuck in the corner. It was a bottle. He took it out slowly.

It was a prescription vial. Rick examined it closely, his brow furrowed in confusion. When he looked at the label, his heart raced.

It wasn’t a vitamin or something for morning sickness; it was a prescription drug meant to induce an abortion.