Feral Obsession

Chapter Thirty Two

When Ruby woke up, she was in an unfamiliar room. Stars danced in her vision as a headache pounded behind her eyes. She groaned, closing them again, burying herself into the pillows under her head. She recounted what had happened the past twenty four hours.

Greenhouse. Father. Finding out her father was a werewolf. Finding out her father was Rodrick Bloom. Finding out her father wanted to use her for revenge.

Her ribs ached. She pressed fingers against the skin gingerly and hissed. She didn't dare look at the bruises, wondering how long broken ribs took to heal. Her scalp burned painfully, and she didn't dare massage the tender skin.

"Well, well, well. Look who has finally woken up."

She froze, heart slamming against her ribcage in a second as she realized who stood in the bedroom with her. Her father was many things, and terrifying had topped the list before she had moved out from under his thumb. He was terrifying before he'd ever laid a hand on her.

Now? Now he was a monster, an abusive piece of shit who would hurt her again. As many times as he wished. Ruby hadn't known fear until that very moment, with the way his body pressed down on the mattress as he sat at the foot.

"I do suggest you get out of bed. We have much to do today, my dear. The pack is oh so delighted to meet you."

This was crossing into dangerous territory, she knew. She squeezed her eyes, praying that she would wake up for real and this would all be some demented nightmare. She would wake up on the bench amongst the flower fields, and Atlas would be looking down at her with that ever present scowl.

But she would be safe, at least. Unharmed.

"Why did you bring me here?" Ruby forced herself into a seated position to look at her father clearly. She stared too long at the hands that had been in her hair, around her throat, abusing her in any way he saw fit.

"I told you. I've been chasing you around this country to fix you."

"I'm fine the way I am," Ruby countered. "And where are we? This isn't the house." She had expected to wake up in her old bedroom, but this room did not appear to belong to a preteen. No band posters, or pictures of her friends, or magazine cut outs. It looked very sterile.

"I never lived in that house. This is my real house. Get dressed and come downstairs."

When her father was gone, Ruby tried to breathe. She could feel the tendrils of an oncoming panic attack wedging themselves in her chest. If she hyperventilated, it would be over. She shook out her limbs, fingers pressed against her beating heart, trying to slow the pulse.

Getting out of bed was a challenge with broken ribs. It hurt to breathe, never mind bend and roll out of the sheets and blankets that were caught around her legs. By the time she made it to the closet, tears threatened to fall, but she held them in check. Told herself she was strong enough to survive whatever this was.

The closet was filled with dresses. Ruby didn't have a choice but to step into one, holding her breath as she pulled it on, trying to ignore the stabbing pain. She didn't dare yelp out, either. Instead, she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

Her hair was a rats nest; she left it as is.

Maneuvering down the stairs was a challenge. She took it slow, gripping onto the railing, hoping she didn't fall. The house itself was rather large, reminding Ruby of Kierson's place. The reminder felt like a knife to her back.

As soon as she made it to the bottom of the stairs, her father was suddenly there. She flinched when he lifted his hand, but he didn't strike her. He gripped her elbow to pull her forward towards a dining area. His grip didn't hurt, but his movements were sudden and painful. He jostled her, placing her in front of an open chair.