Chapter 7

• EMMELINE
• ★★★★★★
• I stumbled into the kitchen, my heart racing with anxiety. I needed to find the head cook, the one who had the power to tell me everything about the food around here—who prepared Darius’s meals, who handled them, and where they stored the damn curry powder. That’s why I was here.
• But when the cooks saw me, all eyes turned to me with shock, suspicion, and maybe even a hint of fear. I couldn’t blame them, though—there had to be a reason for their reactions. I wasn’t exactly dressed like them.
• I paused for a moment, trying to keep my composure.
• “Why are you here, concubine?” a woman yelled at me, the head cook by the look of her. She was in her late forties, but looked tough.
• I plastered on a nervous smile, trying to look as clueless as possible. “Oh, hi! I, uh… I thought I was supposed to, you know, cook my own meals? I’m just a… you know… a slave like you guys, right?” The words slipped out without much thought. I cringed internally at the lie. But I couldn’t let them know exactly what I came for.
• She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “A slave like us?” She scoffed, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “You’re the Alpha’s new plaything, aren’t you? And you've come to mock us, right?”
• Did they really think I enjoyed being Darius's… *concubine*? Did they think I *chose* this?
• “No! I just…”
• “Don’t bother lying, girl. We’ve seen your kind before. You think you’re special, don’t you? Let me tell you something, sweetheart. He'll get bored of you, just like all the others. You're nothing but a shiny new toy. He’ll toss you aside when he’s done, just like the rest. So, don’t get too comfortable."
• The insult hit me hard. Disgust rose in my chest. How could they think I was happy in this? My body didn’t even belong to me anymore, and these fools were making assumptions as if I didn’t know the truth.
• I wanted to scream, to tell them they had no idea what they were talking about. But I bit my tongue. Arguing would only make me look suspicious.
• "I… I understand," I mumbled.
• I was about to walk out when the door swung open with a loud bang and two body guards walked in.
• “Alpha Darius demands your presence,” one of them growled.
• My heart skipped. What now? What fresh hell awaited me? This couldn't be good.
• “Now,” the other guard added, stepping forward.
• I wasn’t sure what Darius wanted, but whatever it was, I had to face it. I had no choice.
• Without saying another word, the guards grabbed my arms, dragging me through the corridors. My mind raced with a million thoughts—what did he want? Finally, they shoved me into Darius’ chambers.
• Darius stood by the window, his back to me as I was shoved inside. But next to him… Next to him stood a man I’d never seen before, dressed in simple, yet finely made clothes. A doctor?
• Darius' eyes lingered on me for a moment before he turned and waved a dismissive hand at the guards.
• “Leave us,” he said.
• The heavy doors swung shut behind them.
• Now it was just me, Darius, and the doctor. My breath hitched in my throat.
• I stood frozen in place. Darius’s gaze fell on me like he could see every hidden thought in my head.
• The doctor set his bag down and moved toward me, his eyes flicking over my body. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run.
• But I couldn’t.
• "Strip down," the doctor said. I stumbled back, my heart slamming against my ribs. He said it like I was a piece of meat, a broken appliance he was assessing for resale.
• "Why do I have to get naked?” I choked out, glancing sideways at Darius. He stood there, his face giving absolutely nothing away. Was he seriously letting this happen? Did he find this amusing? This had to be some twisted joke, some power play to further humiliate me.
• The doctor didn't even blink. “I'm running a test on you. So shut up and obey me,” he snapped. I hated the way he spoke to me, like I was just a slave, just a body for anyone to look at, touch, do whatever they wanted with.
• I opened my mouth to tell him that I wouldn't strip, that I wasn’t some object for his pleasure or his “test”. I was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his examination, but before I could say anything, Darius cut in.
• "Skip that part," he said. He didn't even look at me.
• I blinked in shock, turning to look at him. What? Did I hear him right? Darius, the emotionless, ruthless killer, the man who seemed to enjoy inflicting pain and fear, was *objecting* to me being stripped naked?
• He could slaughter innocent people without batting an eyelid, but he drew the line at disrespecting women? What kind of twisted morality was that?
• The doctor didn’t argue. He just nodded, muttering something under his breath, and quickly moved to collect his samples. I barely heard him, my mind still reeling from what had just happened.
• The doctor did his work fast, collecting whatever it was he needed from me. I felt humiliated. Exposed. But the test didn’t last long. He told us he would be back with the rest of the results.
• Once he left, the room felt a little emptier, a little less suffocating. But then Darius broke the silence with a question that made my blood boil.
• “Did you have breakfast?” he asked, his voice casual, almost… polite?
• I stared at him, my mouth going dry. Was he seriously asking me that? After everything? He was pretending to care? Was this his twisted way of showing concern? I felt a surge of anger rise in me, like a tide I couldn’t control.
• “No,” I snapped, my voice sharp and colder than I intended. I didn’t care. He didn’t deserve my kindness. He didn’t deserve any kind of respect from me.
• Darius raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
• I almost didn’t answer him. But something in my chest tightened, and I suddenly remembered something. The question so painfully reminded me of my father. He used to be the one to ask me the same thing every morning. I could almost hear it as if he were standing right there.
• “Why haven’t you eaten?” he would ask, his voice soft and concerned, always looking out for me. My father wasn’t like Darius. My father would never treat me like this. My father would never make me feel like I was nothing more than a tool for his own pleasure.
• I snapped, my anger pouring out before I could stop it. “I can’t eat,” I bit out, my voice shaking with the intensity of my emotions. “I can’t eat because you’re around! Your presence, just you, it tortures me. You’re like a poison, Darius. I can’t stand it. Because the thought of you, of what you are, makes me sick to my stomach!”
• My chest heaved. I didn’t care how harsh it sounded. It was the truth.