She even had a name now. It was Nyla. In a roundabout way, I’d picked it because of Leighton. Nyla was close to ‘nilla,’ which was similar to vanilla… which was the scent I couldn’t get out of my nose.
With the new clothes strewn out on the bed beside me, I flipped Nyla around in my hands.
She was so small but had done so much damage. Jonathan. Tobias.Ambrose.
God, I needed to apologize to him. I’d regretted using Nyla on him the second I’d done it, even more so when I saw him slump with the wound still dripping.
“Are you sorry too, or are you leaving me to take full responsibility for stabbing Ambrose?”
She didn’t respond, meaning I was left with all the responsibility.
That was fine. Nyla may have made the wound, but I made the decision and I deserved to be punished for that.
Leighton had gotten me a lot of clothes in a couple of different sizes. Most were baggy and comfortable—I assumed there were no plans to take me out of this condo, especially now—but a few were cute trendy pieces. They were like the ones I’d seen in the fashion magazines my mom liked, or on television on one of the few occasions when I’d been allowed to sit with Mother and watch it.
I put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for now, but smiled over the prospect of having the other clothes for later.
I hesitated before going out to the living room. It was strange to be leaving this solitary existence after I’d done something so… wrong.
If my father had caught me, I would have been locked in the basement for weeks. Whenever I severely misbehaved, I ended up there. All alone, with nothing to do but stare at the wall and hum to myself. No one ever visited until my confinement had ended.
Except Tobias.
He would visit and taunt me from the doorway. Sometimes he’d steal my food, leaving me with a grumbling stomach and overwhelming sense of sadness. The one person who could have helped me by keeping me company or sneaking in a treat wanted me to suffer, just like Father did.
I glanced around the room, holding Nyla in my fist and reminding myself that I would never go back. If I was stuck in this apartment forever, that would be fine. Leighton was far better company than my brother or the bugs.
By now, the doctor would be finished stitching up Ambrose. I had to go out there and face him—I’d have to see the contempt in his expression. At least it wouldn’t be unfamiliar to me, and this time I actually deserved it.
Sure, I didn’t like him with Leighton. It infuriated me. Stabbing him was going too far, though. He was just the only person around that wasn’t her, and I’d needed to prove I was dangerous.
And he really had shoved my face in their relationship by making her scream like that last night. Did he maybe deserve it a little bit?
I tried my best not to pout.
Taking a deep breath and holstering Nyla in the waistband of my pants—visible to everyone in the room, because I didn’t want to seem like I was hiding her—I stepped out of Leighton’s bedroom. When I entered the living room everyone hushed, turning to look at me.
Jasper was the first to react, letting out a world-weary sigh. “Come here. Let’s check out those strangulation bruises.”
He shot a sidelong glance at Ambrose, who was sitting up on the couch, facing me, and letting Leighton take a peek at his back. I avoided eye contact with the alpha, scurrying over to Jasper and sitting on the coffee table where he pointed.
The doctor was a skinny beta with short dark hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. I’d put him in his early thirties, with a youthful look about him. He was dressed casually, but there were a couple drops of blood on his button up shirt, and a small trash can sat full of disposable gloves. He snapped on another pair before leaning in close.
I held my breath, closing my eyes as he brushed his fingers up my neck. I whined deep in my throat when he got to the main bruising, even the slightest touch hurting. Breathing hurt too. So did speaking.
“Fuck,” Ambrose cursed, standing abruptly only to groan from the pain.
Jasper drew my displaced attention back to him by probing a different area of my neck. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.
He shone a light down my throat and then looked at both of my eyes before sitting back with a sigh. “You didn’t lose consciousness?”
I shook my head. I’d been woozy and lightheaded, but never passed out.
“I’m going to check your neuro vitals anyway, but you’re probably fine. Look at me.”
I listened, and he shone the light in my eye. He hummed in approval when I flinched away from the light. “You know your name?”
“Kiara.”
