Inseparable

Chapter Four: The Closet Under The Stairs

Bella



I didn’t know what had happened. What had made the two Alphas bust into my kitchen looking so god-damned serious? Was there something wrong with the food? I smelled them before I turned to see them, and just the scent was enough to make me feel intoxicated. What was that? Why did I feel so strange? Why did I feel like flinging myself at them, for no apparent reason?

Before I could take that tentative step forward, I saw the luna come in behind them, her face red and furious. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I knew I was in big trouble. So I ran straight for the back door, and out into the cold night.

I stayed hidden and shivering in the shadows until I saw the lights were all switched off downstairs. They had locked up all the main doors, but I knew a way in. It was awful, but it was the only way. I slipped around to the small rectangular window that opened into the cellar. The pane was rotted and the lock worn through the wood, so all I had to do was jiggle the window, and it swung open. I was probably the only adult person in the pack small enough to slip through the narrow window.

I dropped into the dusty basement and swatted at myself, fearing the cobwebs and spiders. The cellar was pitch black, and it was hard to breathe in the musty air. I felt my heart beating out of my chest as I felt my way through the darkness, bumping my shins on boxes and crates until I found my way to the stairs and crept up, praying that the stairs didn’t creak loud enough to alert the house to my entrance. Hopefully, no one had slid the bolt to lock the cellar door.

I let myself into the hallway and sighed with relief, glad to be out of the smothering basement. I slipped down the hall to the storage closet that was my bedroom. When I reached for the light switch, I nearly screamed when the single bare bulb illuminated Luna Amber's face, contorted with anger and hatred.

“You conniving little b***h, what do you think you are doing?” My eyes went from her face to her hands, noting that she had one of the alpha’s thick leather belts coiled in her hand. I had no idea what I had done, but I knew what was coming. “Kneel down.” She demanded.

I sighed. There was nothing left to do but endure it, and pray that it was over quickly. I dropped to my knees and left my back exposed to her wrath. I wish I could remove my thin dress before she started because I knew it would get torn up again, and I didn’t have enough thread left to repair it. I gritted my teeth as the leather belt lashed out, and cracked across my back. “Count,” she spat.

“One.”

“Two”

I got up to twenty-seven before I couldn’t speak anymore. The dress had been shredded, and the skin of my back was obliterated. She hauled off one more time, catching me across the face with the buckle.

I screamed silently and dropped fully to the ground, my hands covering my stinging, bloody face.

“Don’t you EVER, ever meddle in the affairs of the alpha.” She narrowed her eyes at me cruelly. “I think it's best if you are not seen again as long as the guests are here.” She grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to my feet. I could barely walk, but she didn’t care. She pulled me back to the cellar door and yanked it open.

Oh god, no. “Please,” I whispered. “Not the cellar. I’ll stay in my room. I’ll---” She didn’t hear me, or she just didn’t care. In fact, it may have pleased her to know I was terrified of the cellar. She used my hair to fling me down the stairs. I fell hard, tumbled down the last few steps, and landed in a pathetic heap at the bottom. I tried to scramble back up, but my body wasn’t cooperating, and before I had crawled up a few stairs, I heard the lock slide into place. I was locked in the basement.

I wanted to crawl back towards the window I had used to sneak in, but my head was spinning so badly. After a few feet, I collapsed and let the darkness take me.

Maybe I will really die this time.

Byron

When the house was finally quiet and everyone was sleeping, we went searching for her, starting in the kitchen, trying to track her scent. It got really strong as we went further back into the bowels of the house. We saw a door to the closet under the stairs slightly ajar. As we crept closer, we smelled not only her sweet, chocolatey essence but also the sharp coppery scent of blood. I felt along the wall for a switch to flip and swore when I saw what the bare bulb illuminated.

The closet was no more than six feet long, and maybe three feet wide. She had made a mat from bits of rags and cardboard, and she had one thin, tattered blanket arranged neatly on top. A few articles of clothing, if you could call them that, were neatly folded at the head of the bed. The squalor of the room was enough to turn our stomachs, but it was the blood that made me want to vomit. Her blood was spattered everywhere, across the bed, up the walls, and pooled in one particular spot at the foot of the bed. It looked like a crime scene, only there was no body. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell?” Wyatt growled. “Why…?”

I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t imagine anyone living in this closet, and I couldn’t imagine what had caused this blood shower in the small room. I pulled out my cell phone and turned on the flashlight feature. We walked down the hallway in the dark, but with the light on my phone I could now see the drops and smears of blood that led back toward a heavy wooden door. Wyatt grasped the handle and pulled, but it was locked. A quick inspection showed that it was just a simple deadbolt. He slid the bolt back and pulled the door open.

The smell of dust, mold, blood and hot chocolate wafted up the stairs. “She’s down there,” I confirmed, unnecessarily. I inspected the door frame with my flashlight and found the light switch. The dull lights flickered on.

“Son of a b***h,” Wyatt swore, and flew down the steps, jumping off the last four to land beside the crumpled and broken body of the nameless girl.

“Is she--?” I gulped, I couldn't even say the words.

Wyatt pressed his fingers into her neck. “She lives.” I nearly sighed in relief. It would have broken me completely if we had found her only to lose her at the same moment.

He scooped her up into his arms and stomped his way back up the stairs. He no longer cared who he woke up in the house, his fury was burning hot enough to kill.

We made our way back up the stairs to Wyatt’s room. He carefully laid her out on her side. Her back was a bloody mess that looked more like raw meat than skin. Her face was swollen and bloodied, and her shoulder drooped at a strange angle. I would have been outraged even if she wasn’t my mate. She was so small and so weak, who the hell would do such a thing to a vulnerable pack member?

“I’m going to f*****g kill them,” Wyatt growled.

Fine, he could kill them. I was more interested in helping the girl, first. I went to the bathroom and dug around. There wasn’t much for first aid products, but I did come out with some peroxide and one of my clean t-shirts. When I carefully poured the peroxide across her back, she started awake with a scream, which she muffled into the mattress.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but you are a mess,” I said as gently as I could. She looked at me with glassy, confused eyes. I looked up at Wyatt. “These rags are sticking to the wounds…we’ve got to get them off her.”

“Don’t be afraid, Baby. We’re going to take this dress off of you. We’ll clean you up and give you something else to wear.”

She didn’t resist as we tried to peel off the thin garment. She also didn’t assist to get it off her arms or over her head. Wyatt quickly pulled out his pocket knife and cut it off from her. I cringed a bit when I realized she was completely naked before us. No bra, no underwear, just a small, emaciated body. Her hipbones jutted out, I could count every rib, and she had scar on top of scar standing out in sharp contrast to her warm, honey-gold skin. She kept her arm crossed over her breasts in some attempt at modesty.

“She needs a doctor,” I commented, cringing as I stated the obvious.

We cleaned her up as best we could, and then gave her one of Wyatt’s button-down shirts, so that we could slip it over her bad arm. She remained passive and silent like a rag doll. Her eyes looked dull, and she wasn’t very responsive as we tried to ask her questions. She wouldn’t tell us her name. She wouldn’t reveal who had done this to her. She just stared at us silently until Wyatt asked the magic question.

“Baby, we want to take you out of this hell hole. Will you come with us?” He wanted to rescue her as badly as I did, but he wasn’t going to take her against her will.

“Yes.” She startled us with her hoarse answer. We gawked at her, so she cleared her throat and repeated herself. “Please. Take me with you.”

“Go pack your bags,” Wyatt said to me, “Let's get the hell out of here before I slaughter them all.”