Chapter 84: Chapter 84: Whispers in the Archive
SONIA’S POV
But as quick as it formed, it disappeared, and he was back with a mug. The ceramic felt cool in his hand as he lifted it to his lips, taking a slow sip. His throat moved with the swallow, and a faint scent of herbal tea drifted toward me.
"What do you mean by that?" He ignored me, and continued with the pack doctor instead. His voice was low, almost guarded, as if he didn’t want to give away too much.
"Ivy’s wolf is awake. She did what I couldn’t do. I think you need to spare her because if it wasn’t for her, Ivy would be dead." The doctor’s words hung in the air, steady and certain.
Ramon’s eyes grew tender. I couldn’t understand it. For a brief moment, the hard lines on his face softened, and something vulnerable flickered in his dark gaze. He was so concerned about Ivy, when they didn’t exactly have a relationship outside of her being a maid. There were other casualties, but she was the one he was this concerned about. The thought made my chest feel tight with a mix of confusion and unease.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the entire situation. The room felt smaller suddenly, the air thicker with unspoken questions. My fingers twisted together in front of me, the fabric of my dress brushing softly against my legs.
"Are you lying to me right now? Maybe like others, she has been able to brainwash you too?" Ramon’s voice sharpened again, suspicion creeping back in.
"You’ve known me for too long to question my character, Alpha Ramon. This girl is a healer. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to." The doctor bowed slightly, his movements slow from exhaustion, and walked away. His footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving a quiet echo behind him.
Lorena scoffed, and she watched him leave. "I can’t believe you let that old man walk all over you. Can’t you see you’re losing your grip? You need to be more firm and strict." Her voice was sharp, laced with irritation as she crossed her arms.
"That’s enough, Lorena! Go bring fruits to the sick, I want to speak to Sonia alone."
"What?"
"What?!"
We both said at the same time, but with different tones. My voice came out small and surprised, while hers was full of disbelief.
"You heard me," he replied to Lorena. "It’s an order." His tone left no room for argument, firm and final.
She brought her gaze to me, and I almost jumped into the room and bolted the door. The fury in her eyes could bring down an entire forest. It was so menacing, a shudder coursed through me. Her stare felt like ice on my skin, cold and full of hate.
"Yes Alpha Ramon," she replied sarcastically, and stormed away. Her footsteps were loud and angry on the floor, echoing down the hallway until they faded.
"Come with me," he directed at me. His voice was quieter now, but still carried that edge of command.
I followed behind him, as we walked into a room. My bare feet felt cool against the wooden floor, each step careful and hesitant. The air here smelled different—older, like dust on paper and faint ink.
I looked around, realising this was not just any ordinary room. It was an archival room. Shelves lined the walls, filled with old books and scrolls that looked worn from years of use. The light from a small window filtered in softly, casting gentle shadows across the wooden tables.
We had one of such back in my pack. It was where I found my mum’s healing book. I had sneaked it out, and studied it every night under the covers, the pages feeling soft and fragile in my hands.
"Do you know what this room is?" He questioned me to my surprise. His voice echoed slightly in the quiet space.
"I do. We have something like this back in my pack." My eyes scanned the shelves again, taking in the rows of bound volumes and loose papers.
He nodded, and turned to me. His movements were slow, almost thoughtful. "My mother curated this one. It was one of the few places that didn’t go down after your father’s attack. Fascinating right?"
My heart collapsed. He was bringing up my father’s attack on his pack, which only meant he wanted to punish me. The words landed heavy in the room, stirring up old pain. His request to speak with me didn’t have any ounce of friendliness. He just wanted to punish me like he always did.
Mentally, I began to prepare myself for whatever he was going to throw at me. Whatever it was, I would survive it. I had survived a lot in his hands, anyway. My fingers tightened around the edge of my dress, the fabric bunching under the pressure.
"What was she like?" I blurted before I could stop myself. The question slipped out, soft and curious, surprising even me.
He turned sharply at me, and I almost melted into salt. His eyes darkened for a moment, the air between us growing tense.
I should have just remained silent. I didn’t have any right to question him with anything related to his parents. Not after what my father allegedly did to him. I still didn’t know the details of the story. No one had told me yet. All I knew was I was being used as a tool for revenge. The guilt settled heavy in my stomach, making it hard to breathe evenly.
"How would I know? I didn’t meet her." He dropped the book he had picked up, and put a distance between us. The thud of the book hitting the table echoed in the quiet room.
I felt like a horrible piece of shit at that moment. Still, my eyes sought the book he had just set down. It had a striking resemblance to the healing book that belonged to my mother.
The cover looked worn, with faded gold lettering that caught the light. My curiosity was doused, as I tried to make out the words on the covers from where I stood. The letters were old and elegant, pulling at something deep inside me.
"You have nothing to say about that?" He said from behind his shoulder. His voice was quieter now, almost guarded.
I was instantly swept out of my intent to see what the book was all about. The room felt warmer suddenly, the sunlight on my skin almost too bright.
"Whatever I say won’t do much to comfort you. I’m always going to be a reminder of my father’s wrongdoings to your family. Saying anything would just make me look like a hypocrite." My voice came out soft, carrying the weight of everything unsaid.
"Wise," he muttered, but I caught it. The single word hung in the air between us.
"Everyone seems to believe you’re a healer," he continued. "I don’t believe it. I have to see it with my own two eyes to believe it. Do you have something to say about that?" His gaze stayed on me, intense and searching.
"Actually, I have a funny story. One time, I sneaked out of my room to go heal a man who was paralysed from waist down. When I arrived at his house, he stared me up and down, and hissed. He couldn’t believe they had sent for someone like me to heal him."
I remembered the man’s disgusted face when he had seen me, and it cracked me up. Throwing my head back, I broke into a feat of laughter. The sound filled the room, light and unexpected.
The man had been so mad someone as young as I was had dared to come heal him. It had been quite the battle to get him to trust me enough to heal him. The memory felt warm in my chest for a moment, a small piece of home in this cold place.
But as my laughter subsided, I could feel Ramon’s intense gaze on me. His eyes didn’t leave my face, dark and unreadable.
I opened my eyes, and found him watching me. There was no trace of a smile on his face. He looked rather disgusted. His jaw was tight, and his shoulders looked tense under his shirt.
I could also be reading things. Drawing parallels with the paralyzed man. Then again, he did say he didn’t believe I could heal. Perhaps, they were very much similar. The thought made my smile fade completely.
"Did you heal him?" He asked. His voice was low, almost cautious.
"I did. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. Sometimes, it’s just the wolf that has been weakened, hence the inability to heal rapidly. What I do is try my possible best to help the wolf. If I can heal them, the patient would—" In the middle of my yapping session, he walked up to me, tilted my head to the side, and kissed me.
I froze for a few seconds, as his lips ravaged mine. They were warm and demanding, pressing hard against my own. The sudden closeness made my heart race wildly, and my hands hovered in the air, unsure where to go. I couldn’t move, neither could I reciprocate. It wasn’t something I had expected. The scent of him—soap and something deeper, like pine and smoke, filled my senses completely.
He sensed my hesitation, and raised his head. His breathing was heavier now, eyes dark and searching. "What’s wrong?"
To respond to him, my toes lifted, and I kissed him. My lips met his again, softer this time, tentative but real. The world around us faded for a moment, leaving only the warmth of his mouth and the steady beat of my heart.
