Claimed by the Vengeful Alpha

Chapter 110: Won’t Admit It

"We are here," she said nervously.

Keenan glanced around. They were at the extreme end of the hallway, after passing the numerous rooms on the second floor, and now they were in a corner he didn’t know existed.

His frown deepened. He didn’t care where she slept—he was sure about that. That was exactly why he had let Alaina handle it and never asked. It wasn’t his business.

She turned back to look at him and as he caught her gaze, she turned away. He could see her hesitation from the moment they left his room and that only fueled his suspicions.

However, as he stood in front of the tiny door, he doubted it was because of something dubious. He was aware of how particular she was about appearances and something told him she would rather he didn’t see what was behind the door.

Unfortunately, her reluctance only egged him on. The more she was unwilling, the more his curiosity piqued.

She took forever to turn the handle but Keenan had time to spare. He told himself it was because he wanted to see how long she could keep up this charade. How else would he see the cracks if he didn’t hang close?

The first thing he noticed as she opened the door was the slight damp smell mixed with her scent. The windows of the room had been closed for a few days, so the stale smell wasn’t unexpected. However, that was only the start.

She stood in the doorway longer than she needed to and then sighed before she stepped inside. Keenan’s eyes twitched as he took in the sight before him.

It wasn’t a room—it was a storage room. The size was comparable to the cell he had spent two years in. There was no bed, only a pile of maid dresses stacked on the ground.

The wardrobe was falling apart, along with the vanity. He didn’t recognize them. He had handled the building of this house; there wasn’t a single piece of furniture he didn’t recognize.

Which meant they were part of the abandoned house before he had made it the main house. The foundation of the house was older than him and when he was younger, he and the children in the orphanage would play in the different rooms.

He had rescued Penn from Alaina more than a few times in these walls. It always annoyed him how easily she fell for Alaina’s lies.

He turned his head left and right. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a storage room. Keenan clenched his jaw. She lived like this and had insisted on staying in Verlassen.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she carefully walked toward the window, as if she had a hard time seeing in the dimly lit room.

She didn’t have a wolf—he knew that much. That was exactly why her injuries didn’t heal as quickly but he never really thought it affected things like sight too.

She got to the window and stood on her tiptoes to unbolt it. She struggled for a moment—as she was unable to use her right hand—before she could get them open.

Then she turned to look at him with an apologetic look on her face, while all he could notice was that there were no curtains.

He should be happy, right? Knowing she had lived like this should bring him joy. This was the sort of life he wanted her to have but all he felt was numbness.

"Is this your bed?" He asked, pointing to the ground while he locked eyes with her.

He didn’t know why he asked. Was he looking for some reaction from her? Was he hoping to see some displeasure, anger? Would that make him feel something at her suffering?

She didn’t respond. Rather, she rushed forward and gathered the clothes in her hands. It was brief, but he saw her wince in pain as she picked up the clothes before using them to hide her face from his view.

"Is it in the way?" She asked, still hiding her face as she walked toward the rundown wardrobe.

She pulled it open and dumped the clothes at the bottom, but didn’t look at him. Rather, she looked behind the wardrobe, let out a sigh of relief and then walked toward him.

"Was that your bed?" He asked, not willing to let it go.

She paused and lifted her head to look at him. There were a couple strands of hair dangling in front of her face. Keenan didn’t like how his hand itched to brush them aside.

"It was," she mumbled and used her left hand to brush the hair out of her face.

"I am done here," she stated before he could reply, as if she didn’t want him to dwell on it.

"Is that all you came here to do?"

Maya nodded with a slightly worried expression. Her left hand carefully grabbed her bandaged one.

"Good," he replied. "Richard will be in my room soon to check your wounds. You had better not keep him waiting."

She nodded and there was a hint of a smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled a little but every time he looked directly into her eyes, she turned away.

She walked past him, a slight skip in her step as she walked ahead of him. She stopped when she realized what she was doing and turned around to look at him again before she opened the door and stepped out.

Keenan didn’t have to think about it to know what he was going to do. It had been easier when he didn’t know. He was getting drawn in—he knew that—but he would be careful this time.

The walk back to his bedroom was faster than when they had left. She didn’t look as cautious as before and if he cared enough to think about it, he would say she was happy.

He was annoyed, as it reminded him of her smiling face when he woke up next to her. He won’t admit it but he knew he didn’t hate it.