Chapter 11
Scarlett’s POV
Lucian’s mocking tone cut into me. “What are you shy about? Don’t you do it naked with
your lovers?” he taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. I felt my face heat
with shame, and I looked away, fighting back the urge to retaliate.
Maxwell tossed my damp dress at me, and I hurried to pull it on. The cold fabric clung to my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, but it was better than standing there exposed under their leering stares.
“Don’t you ever use any of our things again!” Maxwell snapped, his gaze dark and accusing. He took a deep breath, his nose twitching as he picked up the faint scent of the
lotion. His eyes narrowed as he looked directly at me.
“Did you use Clay’s lotion?” he demanded. I swallowed, feeling caught.
“My skin was dry, and I…” I started, but my voice trailed off. He wasn’t interested in my reasons. They both turned and went to their rooms, leaving me standing there, cold and
humiliated.
Left alone, I sank to the floor, curling up to conserve what little warmth I could find. The damp dress clung to me, and the winter chill seeped into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. I couldn’t sit on the couch, forbidden as it was to me, so the cold floor was my only option. I wrapped my arms around myself, willing my body to stop shaking.
After a while, Clay entered, his expression softening as he took in my shivering form, teeth chattering uncontrollably in the damp, frigid fabric.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. Just then, Lucian and Maxwell stepped out, overhearing Clay’s question.
Maxwell gave a dismissive laugh, finding satisfaction in my discomfort.
“This bitch was getting cozy with our stuff,” he sneered. “She washed her clothes, tied Lucian’s towel, and even used your lotion, Clay.”
But Clay wasn’t amused. His face hardened as he took in the situation. “And you made her wear damp clothes? In the middle of winter?” His voice was sharp, and the laughter died
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Chapter 11
on Maxwell’s lips.
“This is too much, Lucian,” he said, turning to the darkest of the three. “She doesn’t have a wolf. She’s vulnerable–if she gets sick, she could die.”
Lucian glared at him, his face stony. “Get your shit together, Clay. Don’t forget what her father took from us. She’s his daughter, not innocent. Stay focused.”
Despite Lucian’s harsh words, Clay hesitated only a moment before leaving to retrieve a dry t–shirt, a pair of shorts, and a blanket. When he returned, he handed them to me without a word, his expression both conflicted and firm, as if he were struggling to reconcile the brutal treatment with his own quiet conscience.
“Take the damp dress off,” Clay instructed, his voice steady but not unkind. At this point,
I was beyond caring about modesty or shame. I peeled off the dress and took the dry t-
shirt, shorts, and blanket he offered. Gratefully, I pulled on the clothes and wrapped the
blanket tightly around myself, my body still wracked with shivers.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice trembling, teeth chattering. Clay didn’t respond with
warmth or even a nod, but I was still grateful.
“Go drink some tea from the flask,” he said. I shook my head, explaining quietly that it was empty. After a brief pause, he handed me a shot of vodka instead. I took it without hesitation, swallowing the sharp liquid quickly, its warmth spreading through me. It was my first taste of alcohol, but I didn’t mention it, and he didn’t ask.
Maxwell shot a sharp look my way, his tone dripping with judgment. “Hey! Don’t get any
ideas about stealing our booze. I heard you have a reputation for drinking, that’s how you
ended up with all those men, isn’t it?”
I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to engage or rise to the bait. Let him think what he wanted. No amount of explanation would sway him anyway.
Wrapping the blanket more tightly around myself, I sat down on the cold floor, still forbidden from using the couch. My damp dress lay nearby, slowly drying in the chill of the room. The Alphas served themselves their meals, ignoring me as I sat in silence, feeling the sting of each cold, indifferent glance. I waited, saying nothing, enduring their
presence in silence and holding onto my dignity as best as I could.
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