Chapter 9 Xander 🩸

• After Gia left the throne room, I sat alone for hours on end thinking about all the bullshit that they said.
• Their concerns are valid, but they were almost patronizing. I can take care of myself, I know the risks, but I will take it anyway.
• Crescent is the only thing I've wanted in my life since I was a kid, I have the chance now to have her, I won't throw it away all because I'm scared.
• I'm overthinking.
• Fuck!
• Sex usually helps, but, surprisingly, I'm not in the mood for it, or at least, the person I'm in the mood for isn't going to appreciate my advances. I could take it anyway, but that's not how I want it with her.
• Getting up from the big-ass Obsidian chair that once seated the Ganymede Alphas, I thread carefully down the steps and head for the Nursery.
• Speaking with Crescent might help clear my mind.
• I did not expect her to be sleeping tonight. I expected her to be waiting for me, waiting to surprise me and win me in my own game.
• She didn't disappoint.
• Crescent sat right in the middle of the Nursery, just where my mother had attacked her earlier. She looked as if she hadn't moved an inch since the last time I was here, or didn't she?
• I move closer to her carefully and with heightened senses.
• I hate the fear creeping through my veins.
• "Crescent?" my voice is just as gentle as I want it to be.
• Slowly, Crescent raises her head and looks at my face. Her state is completely normal. Her average, beautiful blue eyes; her smooth hair, her short nails, her steady breathing; all is normal.
• "Are you okay?" I ask anyway, to be sure.
• She nods. "Yes, I'm fine," then she gets on her feet. "I was expecting you."
• "Are you happy that I'm here?" I smirk at her, finally relaxing.
• "No." Her reply is sharp and honest.
• Damn sharp.
• She moves over to the side and takes a seat on the bench there. It seemed as though she was inviting me to her, I take the unspoken invite and walk to meet her.
• "About today, do not hold Gia's actions against her." That is my own form of apology for my mother's rash actions.
• Crescent pulls a short lived smirk. "It's nothing. It would have been strange if she had reacted differently."
• Well, that's a relief. I guess. Not as if I care or anything.
• Following that relief is a full minute of awkward silence. Really, the shitty silence is so fucking annoying.
• It is really hard stopping myself from fidgeting, but I did manage.
• What could we possibly talk about?
• Should I ask how she felt about my father usurping her mother's throne?
• Should I ask how she felt living an undermining life afterwards?
• Or should I ask how she felt about me sitting on that same usurped throne
• Nothing felt right.
• "I wanted to ask you for permission to do something," she finally speaks.
• Yay!!
• Clearing my throat, I sit up; straightening my back. "What is it?"
• "I want to go back to my shelter," she says. "I need to pack some things from there, some important things that I would be needing here."
• Reasonable, but I ask. "What things?"
• "Clothes," she replies immediately.
• "I can have some made for you," I offer my abundant generosity.
• "No, thanks. I will manage with my old clothes, I just need permission to go get them," she emphasizes her point then waits to get a reply.
• Well, what harm could it possibly do? All she's asking for is to go and get some of her personal belongings, and I don't need to worry about her running away or anything.
• I know Crescent, if she ever had it in her to run away, she definitely would have, at least, tried it once in the past. It's either she's smart enough to know the risks of leaving the Pack, or she knows that she'd be recovered in a day, or she is staying for a reason.
• Whichever one, I'm here for it.
• "Sure," I say. "You can go back to get whatever you want."
• Crescent smiles, she actually smiles; genuinely. "Thanks."
• We are quiet for another minute before I try a shot at making a conversation.
• "We are not so different," I begin. "You and I."
• The high arch of her brows shows, clearly, her confusion.
• "You mean?"
• "We share the same blood," I say to clarify her confusion.
• Crescent stifles a laugh. I don't blame her, this is a laughable attempt at making a conversation.
• "You are a Mimas, just as I am."
• "Don't do that," she shakes her head slowly. "I am a Ganymede, just like my mother—"
• "Your father was my uncle though, hence, Crescent Mimas," I watch as her expressions slowly become dark.
• She's only openly using the name 'Ganymede' because her mother was the Alpha, but her father had a name too.
• Crescent is a Mimas, just like me. Callisto was the last Ganymede.
• "My father," her voice is thick with emotions. "My father decided that I'd take my mother's last name. And I take all the features of my mother's side of the family, I'm a Ganymede through and through."
• It's fascinating to see.
• She's so appalled by the idea of being called a Mimas. The earlier she accepts that last name, the better. It would inevitably be her last name anytime from now after all.
• "Do you want anything else? Or do you want us to reminisce more on our childhood? How we used to be such sweet cousins and all?"
• Crescent is a hard rock to crack, if I didn't know that before, I know it now. It would take time and a fuck load of patience to make her malleable — both of which I do not have.
• Anyway, this is the perfect time to confirm something that has been on my mind since my conversation with Gia.
• "You remember your time here, right?" I ask carefully.
• She may not know it, but, during the weeks she spent in the Black Pits, she's had a little work done on her brain.
• My father wanted her to forget her past, he wanted her to believe that she truly was born an Omega; and live like it.
• That didn't work out well, if I must mention, but I wonder to what extent the Magickster's tricks played out.
• "You want to hear the truth?" she asks without even looking at me.
• "Yes," I answer, honestly.
• Crescent turns her head to look at me, her eyes drowning in unshed tears.
• "I don't remember much," she says, a bitter smile accentuating the pain on her face. "I remember my mom, very much," she says. "I remember the day my dad left and never returned. I remember all the lessons about my roots, but aside from that, this place feels so strange."
• Crazy. She remembers all that my father wanted her to forget — her mother and her lineage. But with the exception of her father, his brother, Reef wanted her to keep that one.
• Anyway, there is this other important thing that I want to confirm.
• "What about Sky?"
• Her forehead creases in confusion.
• "Sky?"
• She is clueless.
• "A boy we used to hang out with. His family used to be important," I answer her question; still paying close attention to her reactions.
• She shrugs. "I don't know him."
• That's a relief.
• "I only remember the important stuff, seems like this Sky from an 'important family' wasn't important enough," she remained expressionless.
• Good.
• I want to go ahead and ask if she's curious about her missing memories, but she probably thinks it's just nothing. She was after all only eight when Callisto was overthrown. Or maybe she links it to the theory of only remembering the 'important stuff'.
• Don't know, don't care.
• After spending a few more minutes with Crescent, making small talks and all — she's much more receptive than she was yesterday — I leave her to sleep, while I head to the Black Pits.
• It's late at night, so there are no Epsilons torturing prisoners, hence, the dead silence.
• I carefully sweep my way through the dampish stone grounds of the dungeon, avoiding deep pot holes while also trying to stay away from the reach of imploring prisoners.
• I should probably have all of them killed. They disgust me. But I'd be patient, after all, 'what's the dungeon without prisoners'?
• Soon enough, I arrive at my destination.
• Deep within the shadows of the Black Pit, in the most undesirable of the cells, a half-dead half-alive Wereman is chained to the walls with silver chains that continually burned at his wrist and caused him pains.
• Although all the whip marks are fully healed, the blood stains on his back tell the story of his sufferings.
• The longer he stayed here, the more undesirable he became, and the more my goal is being met.
• My father had Crescent, this one's mine; one to feed each of our ego.
• I move closer to the dark iron bars and smile at his hanging head. His hair is well overgrown and his beard bush.
• He knows I'm here, he definitely senses my presence, but he's trying to ignore me.
• "How are you doing?"
• My voice was just the right trigger.
• After the question, he slowly raises his head and growls at me, his golden eyes glowing and burning in the dark of the cell.
• Well, try harder at ignoring me, peasant.
• "I will take that as a 'fine, thank you'," I smirk at him. "Long time no see. Skylar Enceladus."