Alpha Damon (Sienna) novel Chapter 177

Delilah:

I spent most of my day quiet, refusing to speak, refusing to allow anyone to see any side of me.

Refusing to allow anyone to hear anything from my thoughts.

The wrong whisper could end in punishment. The wrong gesture could earn you a beating. And still, here I was, walking through the long corridor of Giovanni’s estate, ignoring the sidelong glances from guards and staff alike.

I chose to run earlier today. I chose to do my best with that. I needed to clear my space, to clear my mind, but I knew that I was going to need to start building.

I wasn’t here to play anymore. I couldn’t just stay here by myself in a place where I knew that my own father, if I could call him that, would turn his back on me.

I needed help.

Allies.

Trust.

Power.

Giovanni wanted a weapon. Fine. I would be one. But I would not be one he could control forever.

No one. I knew that he was going to get rid of me once he was done. I was going to allow him to believe that I was working for him and him alone, that I was still shifted in whatever it is that he wanted.

It started small, eye contact, a soft smile, a quiet word of thanks to the maids. It was the first time anyone had done that in a while. And I noticed how it startled them, softened them. I’ve been doing it for a while, but not because I needed allies. At first. I did it simply because this was how I grew older. But now I could tell that this was something. At least it meant something to them.

I was no fool. Loyalty could not be demanded. It had to be earned.

Especially in a place like this.

Especially from those who had no reason to trust.

But right now, Lysandra was my focus.

After last night, after I had bathed her, after she had slept by my side, I barely had managed to close my eyes before opening them and walking out, careful not to wake her up. She needed to rest. She was going to need to recover. I only asked her maids to stand by the door just in case. She woke up and was startled.

I walked into my room to find her curled on the bed, knees to her chest, her fragile body trembling even beneath the thick blanket I’d wrapped her in. She hadn’t eaten since she came. She was scared. I tried but she refused. I did not press.

“Did she get anything to eat? Did she try to extend her hand to eat?” I asked, looking at the maid who stood by the door. She shook her head. All three of them looked down at their feet. I hummed in response and walked towards her.

A tray of food waited beside the bed. Warm broth. A bit of fruit. Crackers soaked in milk to soften them.

“Lysandra,” I said softly, kneeling beside her. “Come on, I know you’re hungry. Just a little, I will help you grow stronger.” She flinched, her eyes wide, darting toward the tray. Her throat bobbed, and I saw the struggle within her.

She wanted to eat. She wanted to extend her hand.

But fear still ruled her. The man had broken her far beyond repair. For now. This was going to be long, but I knew that I was going to have the patience to do so.

“I won’t force you,” I told her gently. “Just one bite. And if you can’t keep it down, we’ll try again later. No one is going to hurt you. But you have to eat. You have to get something inside your system.”

She hesitated before slowly sitting up. I lifted a spoonful of broth and offered it. Her fingers shook as she took it from me and sipped, only to gag and cough it back out moments later, the contents spilling onto the blanket.

Her face crumpled in panic.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, scrambling to move away, nearly slipping off the bed in her desperation. “I’m sorry, please… don’t tell him… I didn’t mean to…”

When the others left, the headmistress stepped inside.

An older woman, stern, but kind. “I raised her when her mother passed.”

I looked at her for a moment, her eyes holding more pain than she would have wanted to show.

“The maid who told Giovanni what happened to her,” she said quietly. “Her name is Miri. She’s new. Too eager to please the wrong man. I believe this would enough information for you to get what you want.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

She looked down at Lysandra with sorrow. “She used to be proud. Fierce. Like her mother. She used to be willing to fight, to stand. She is not weak. I know what I raised. And I know who I raised.”

“She still is,” I replied. “She just needs someone to believe in her again.”

The headmistress studied me for a moment longer. “Then maybe she’s lucky you came. You might be more than just the weapon that was created after all.”

When she left, I sat beside Lysandra again, offering the tray one more time.

This time, she took a bite without shaking.

Just one.

But it was a start.

And in this place of shadows and scars, that meant everything.