"Temp, come on, you need to eat," I complained, dropping the spoonful of oatmeal back into the bowl after another unsuccessful attempt at feeding him. It still wasn't a pleasing sight to see him tied to the chair, especially because it was Temp - it was strange to see him helpless. During our time together over the years at the facility, I had always thought of him as incredibly hard and invincible with his muscular build. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, connected to large arms that were tight and cut, securely tied back. His raggedy pants hugged his powerful legs, heavy with muscle, and as he shifted, the chair groaned beneath him. His long body, reaching the height of 6'3, which was a big ball of testosterone, almost dwarfed the chair. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead and his eyes were narrowed at me. "Do you want to die from starvation?"
He pinched his lips together, silent.
Exhaling loudly, I placed down the bowl and grabbed the bottle of water. "At least drink something - you can only survive three days without water."
I lifted the bottle to his lips, noticing that his bottom was oddly swollen and bruised. Relief washed through me when his lips parted and he accepted the cool liquid - but then, he literally spit the water into my face. I gaped and disgusted, stepped away with my whole face drenched. Looking at him, I wasn't surprised to find a prideful look on his face, followed by a scowl. I wiped the water away on my shirt and flopped back down on the chair across from him, frustrated. "I understand why you're angry, but maybe if we come to an agreement, we can get you out of that chair, okay?"
He huffed, but didn't respond.
"Are you giving me the silent treatment now?" I asked, annoyed. "How childish."
"You're childish!"
I grinned. "Look who responded." He tilted his head back, swearing under his breath. "Just talk to me, Temp. I want to fix this. Please."
"Why don't you go talk to your mate?" he retorted, harshly. "You don't need me."
"That's not true," I argued, frowning. "Temp, it doesn't need to be this way between us. I know things have changed, but I need you right now." Noticing the desperation in my voice, he exhaled loudly and cocked an eyebrow, somewhat curious. "I did something. . . I, well, I killed Tyler. He recognized me from the facility a-and I needed to protect us. I killed him and I'm afraid it's going to backfire; I'm on edge and I'm just stuck." Unfazed, he stared at me, listening. "I have this bloodthirsty pack outside, waiting for orders from me. I just killed an Alpha's brother. The government is surely preparing to attack soon. Ethen found out about the m-mark." I held up my wrist, gesturing towards the embarrassing mark. "Things are getting worse and worse - I don't know what to do anymore."
He shrugged. "That's not my problem."
"Yeah, you're right," I muttered, leaning forward. "I don't know. I guess I was just hoping you could help me, but I get it - why should you?" I eyed his figure in the chair, knowing I was the one who had put him there after betraying him. "I've screwed up."
"Hell yeah," he agreed, shifting in the chair. "Why don't you go ask your mate for help, huh? I'm sure he cares more than I do."
"We got into a fight," I told him, quietly. "And, I don't want his help. I want yours." He shook his head in disbelief, releasing an unenthusiastic laugh. "I want my best friend's help."
"I am not your best friend."
"Yes, you are," I countered, seriously. "I know our friendship hasn't always been great, but you've always been there for me. I've known you longer than anyone here; hell, you've seen the worst of me. You were at my side during every step to get to this point and I know I've screwed up. It was wrong of me to betray you, but I can't lose you." My chest grew heavy as I watched his face, which remained emotionless. "Not now. Not when we've come this far." When he didn't respond, I added, "Whether you like it or not, you're my best friend. Your ass owns that position."
