Jacky’s POV
My eyes opened slowly, like they were weighed down with bricks, and the first thing that hit me was the softness under me. I blinked, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to shake off the fog clouding my mind. It felt wrong-the bed, the quiet, the warmth that wrapped around me. My instincts screamed that this wasn’t where I was supposed to be.
As I breathed in, the sharp, sterile scent of herbs and antiseptic filled my nose. I knew that smell all too well. I took in my surroundings-clean sheets, dim lighting, a bowl of herbs on the table beside me, and the faint rustling of someone moving nearby. My eyes traveled across the room, and realization dawned on me, settling like a cold weight in my stomach.
This was the same room where Eloise had died.
I let the familiarity sink in, the sterile smell mixing with the soft, somber light that spilled through the narrow windows. The weight of it pressed down on me, and I could almost feel her presence-my friend, gone forever in this very bed. I swallowed, pushing the thought away, but the memory lingered like a shadow.
The door creaked open, pulling me back to the present. A nurse stepped in, balancing a tray with a quiet, efficient grace. She spotted me, her face softening into a gentle smile as she approached. “You’re awake,” she said in a hushed tone, as if the walls themselves remembered what had happened here. Carefully, she adjusted the pillow behind me, her hands practiced and delicate.
“Where… where am I?” My voice cracked, emerging hoarse and strained.
“You’re in the infirmary, back in the packhouse,” she replied, her tone steady and soothing, as if speaking to a wounded animal. She met my eyes with a careful kindness. “You were poisoned in the maze. Alpha Roman ordered that you be treated immediately.”
A cold wave rippled through me at the mention of his name. Roman. The man I despised, feared, and, to my frustration, couldn’t entirely understand. I pushed myself up slowly, feeling the aches radiate through my body, a reminder that the poison’s hold hadn’t entirely left. My hands shook as I gripped the bed’s edge, each movement sending dull, lingering pain through my veins.
“Why would he save me?” I muttered, almost to myself, though the question hung heavily in the room.
As if summoned by the very question, the door swung open again, and there he was-Roman. His presence filled the room instantly, his gaze sharp and assessing. I forced myself upright, ignoring the throbbing pain in my muscles, not willing to appear weak in front of him. He walked closer, his face unreadable, his eyes trailing over me with that cold, calculating precision that made my skin crawl.
“You’re looking well enough,” he observed, his voice low and detached. “Good. I don’t like wasting resources.”
I clenched my jaw, meeting his gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of his scrutiny. “Why did you save me?” I demanded, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re an expensive investment, Jacky. It wouldn’t make sense to let you die from a traitor’s cheap shot.”
Expensive investment. The words made my stomach turn, the idea that I was some kind of commodity, nothing more than a piece on his chessboard. My fists clenched at my sides, my body screaming in protest, yet I held his gaze with a fierce resolve. “You don’t just save people for nothing,” I retorted, daring him to reveal whatever twisted game he was playing.
Roman’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with that cold intelligence, calculating and ruthless. “You’re right,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat. “It’s not just the poison. There’s also the Blood Ring. Your fight with Malia is still on… but it’ll be after the party in two weeks.”
A jolt of shock surged through me, my mind scrambling to keep up. “You’re… postponing it?”
He gave a slight nod, his gaze never wavering. “Yes. The fight will be a national event-something to be watched, discussed, and wagered on. Alphas from all over, including Malia’s town, will attend, and the bidding will bring in a fortune. Holding the fight too soon would be…” He paused, considering his words carefully, “shortsighted.”
The words settled like lead in my stomach. I was nothing more than a pawn, a spectacle to be sold to the highest bidder. My life, my struggle, all of it was just a currency to him.
His words settled heavily over me. Of course, he wasn’t doing this out of mercy or kindness. He was waiting for the right moment to make the most profit out of my life, out of my death. A fight to the death with Malia-postponed, not canceled. All to entertain the other Alphas.
“So I’m just an attraction now?” I bit out, bitterness thick in my voice, but even I could hear the edge of betrayal there, too. “Just a showpiece in your spectacle?”
Roman’s expression didn’t shift, didn’t even flicker. “An attraction?” he repeated, his voice cold, dismissive. “You’re what you make yourself, Jacky. Nothing more, nothing less. Whether you’re remembered as a victor or a fool… that’s up to you.” His words, smooth as silk, hit like a stone, revealing neither warmth nor cruelty-just utter indifference.
I held his gaze, feeling a fire rise in me that he clearly didn’t feel, couldn’t feel. “If that’s true, then why force me to fight her at all? If you’re so set on my value, then why throw me to the wolves just for entertainment?”
A faint, almost amused glint appeared in Roman’s eyes. “Entertainment?” he echoed. “Is that all you think this is?” He tilted his head, a dark smile pulling at his lips. “This is not a simple spectacle. This fight, this… display-it’s tradition, Jacky. It’s what keeps our people inspired, our pack united. It’s what shows them strength in its truest, rawest form. And Malia is just as much a part of that.”
I clenched my fists. “Strength? You mean power, don’t you? You’ll keep us at each other’s throats if it keeps your status secure, won’t you?”
His smile didn’t falter. “Power, strength, survival-they’re all the same in the end,” he replied, completely unfazed. “To lead means to sacrifice sentimentality. If you survive, if you win, then you’ll have proven yourself as more than a mere ‘attraction.'”
A cold laugh slipped out of me, disbelief flooding my chest. “And if I don’t survive, what then? I just become another body left behind in the path to your ‘strength’? Just a piece of your legacy?”
Roman’s eyes gleamed with something dark, something coldly calculating. “If you lose, then yes, you’ll be remembered as a part of that legacy, just not in the way you imagine. You’ll be a warning, a reminder that only the strongest rise.”
I swallowed hard, feeling a weight in the room that pressed down on me. He was unmoved, completely certain, like he’d already rehearsed this answer in his head. To him, I was just another piece on the board, a part of the game he controlled.
“And what about Malia?” I asked, my voice low, challenging. “Is she just another part of your… demonstration, or do you actually care who wins?”
“Care?” Roman’s tone was sharp, almost mocking. “Jacky, caring has nothing to do with it. I want the strongest to win, the one who proves they’re worth something more. Malia, you, any of the others… if it’s you, you’ll prove that strength for me. If it’s her, then she will.” He shrugged, dismissive. “What you gain from it is yours to keep. Or to lose.”
I sat in silence for a moment, his words cutting deeper than I cared to admit. The fight, the spectacle, it was all just another test to him, another way to sort the strong from the weak. And to him, it didn’t matter who walked away alive-as long as the pack got its display and he kept his throne steady.
He turned to leave. “Rest up, Jacky,” he said, his tone as dismissive as ever. “When the time comes, you’ll need every ounce of strength.”
I hated him, however, more than just hatred swirled inside me. Jealousy was eating at me, why didn’t he know I was his mate? All this time, I fight the our mate bond, feeling like I should kill myself. Fuck! I want to kill him, yet at the same time, ride him to insanity.