ASTRID'S POV.
Once back in the room, I made my way to the bathroom. The soft light of the morning filtering through the frosted window did little to ease my nerves.
I removed my clothes and stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water might help clear my foggy thoughts.
As the water cascaded over me, I tried to focus on the soothing sensations, but my mind remained clouded with worry.
I kept replaying the events of the previous night, his anger, and the unspoken words that seemed to hang heavy in the air.
The steady rhythm of the shower did nothing to soothe my anxiety, and I found myself lost in a haze of thoughts, struggling to make sense of everything.
I needed to clear my mind, but the lingering worry about Dane’s whereabouts and the tension between us weighed heavily, making it hard to find peace
As soon as I finished my shower and slipped into fresh clothes, I sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling a deep weight in my chest.
The soft light filtering through the window cast a warm glow, but it did little to ease my mounting anxiety.
I positioned myself by the window, my gaze locked on the garage and driveway, hoping to catch any sign of Dane’s return.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. What felt like moments quickly turned into minutes, and then hours.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, my hope dwindled. I had yet to see a single trace of Dane.
Each passing minute deepened my concern, turning it into a gnawing worry that something might have gone wrong.
The silence of the room was abruptly shattered by a knock at the door.
My heart leaped in my chest, the sound echoing ominously in the quiet.
I rose slowly, my movements feeling sluggish as I approached the door. With a deep breath, I opened it, bracing myself for whatever was to come.
To my dismay, it was Mariam, my personal maid, entering with a tray in hand. Her presence, usually a comforting sight, now seemed to add to my unease.
She made her way to the small table in the room, setting the tray down with ease. My curiosity, mixed with concern, got the better of me.
“Have you seen Dane by any chance?” I asked, my voice tinged with desperation. “He’s been gone all day. I’ve kept my eyes glued to the garage and driveway, but he hasn’t shown up.”
Mariam’s expression remained neutral as she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Luna Astrid. I only came to bring you your meal. I haven’t seen the Alpha today, I’m afraid.”
My gaze shifted from her face to the tray she had set down.
It was laden with a simple meal; some bread, cheese, and fruit. I had no appetite, and the sight of the food only added to my distress.
“I’m not interested in eating right now,” I said, my tone flat. “I don’t have any appetite for this.”
Mariam’s eyes softened with concern. “But the doctor recommended you eat something. It’s important for your health.”
Before she could say more, a loud commotion erupted outside the window.
The sudden noise: shouting and the sound of objects clattering: startled me. My heart raced, and I turned to Mariam, my face etched with worry.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice edged with impatience and concern. Mariam, looking equally perplexed, shook her head in response.
“I’m sorry, Luna, but I have no idea,” she replied, her tone apologetic.
“Take the food away and leave,” I instructed firmly. Without protest, she bowed slightly and exited the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
Her exit left me alone with my swirling thoughts and the escalating disturbance outside.
I moved closer to the window, my curiosity and unease driving me to investigate further. To my dismay, the source of the commotion was none other than Camilla.
Her shrill screams and furious curses pierced the evening air, making my stomach churn with a mix of frustration and anger.
Seeing her flailing about and creating such a spectacle was the last thing I needed.
“What does this psychotic woman want this time?” I muttered under my breath, my gaze fixed on the chaotic scene below.
My irritation with her had reached its peak, and I was determined to put an end to this nuisance.
I swiftly made my way out of the room and descended the stairs, each step heavy with the weight of my frustration.
The noise grew louder as I approached, echoing through the hallways and increasing my sense of urgency.
As I reached the front entrance, I pushed through the doors and stepped out onto the grounds.
The scene before me was chaotic. Camilla was surrounded by several security personnel, who struggled to restrain her.
Her face was contorted with rage, and her loud, piercing voice cut through the evening air.
She was flailing her arms, attempting to break free from their grip.
“Let me go!” she screamed, her voice filled with desperation and fury. The guards, though clearly trying to maintain control, were having difficulty managing her frantic movements.
“What’s going on here?” I demanded, my authoritative tone drawing the attention of everyone present, including Camilla.
The guards stopped momentarily, their eyes shifting to me as they awaited instructions.
“This woman is trying to force her way onto the pack grounds,” one of the security men explained hurriedly, his face flushed with exertion.
His tone was apologetic yet firm, indicating that they had done their best to handle the situation.
Camilla, seemingly realizing that she had drawn my attention, jerked her arms out of the guard’s grasp.
In a sudden move, she dropped to her knees, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation.
The sight of her on the ground, clutching her chest and breathing heavily, was unexpected.
Her dramatic gesture surprised me, and for a brief moment, the noise around me seemed to fade as I processed the scene before me.
Camilla, her face flushed and streaked with tears, clutched desperately at my feet. Her sobs were loud and raw, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
“I’m sorry, Astrid. I’ve been trying to speak with you; I need your forgiveness,” she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion.
Her desperate plea struck a chord within me, but I was far from ready to offer any sympathy.
Without a second thought, I raised my hand and delivered a sharp slap across her cheek.
The sound echoed through the yard, and I could see the shock and pain flash across her face.
To my astonishment, Camilla did not retaliate. She remained on her knees, her tears continuing to flow freely.
The sting of the slap seemed to only add to her distress, and she held her cheek, wincing in pain.
“I’m sorry, Astrid. I know I deserved that. And yes, I know I have no right to be before you, but please, I need you to forgive me for all I’ve done,” she continued to beg, her voice trembling with each word.
I was taken aback by her willingness to endure the punishment without protest.
Her demeanour was almost too submissive, as if she was putting on an act to gain my pity.
Her tears seemed insincere, designed to manipulate rather than express genuine remorse.
Fury bubbled up inside me, and I struck her again, this time on the other cheek. The second slap was just as forceful, leaving a red mark on her pale skin.
The guards and onlookers around us gasped, clearly taken aback by the display of violence.
Still, Camilla did not react aggressively. She remained on the ground, her hands pressed to her cheeks, the pain evident in her eyes. Her cries were muffled as she continued to plead.
“Forgive you? Have you forgotten how many times you tried to murder me?” I demanded, my voice cold and unforgiving.
Her eyes, which had been fixed on me, dropped to the ground, unable to meet my gaze.
“You can hit me all you want, Astrid, but all I need is your forgiveness,” Camilla persisted, her voice now more of a whisper than a plea.