Payment (revised)

Chapter 4

Early Wednesday update be proud
Votes and comments are always appreciated ty ly❤️❤️

edited: 5/10/20

edited: 5/20/23

"You have nothing to thank me for..."

The phrase bounced against the walls of Stiles's mind, over and over again in a vicious cycle.

"You have nothing to thank me for..."

Stiles stood from the bed the Alpha had laid him on and started pacing the room. Stiles had thanked him; what the hell was he thinking?

"You have nothing to thank me for..."

He banged the flat of his hands against the wall, one, two, three times before pulling back. His palms throbbed, but he hadn't managed the damage he craved.

With a defeated sigh, Stiles sunk back down into a mold in the mattress. Someone had slept in the bed recently. He didn't want to think about who that might have been.

"You have nothing to thank me for..."

It had been the most honest statement Stiles had heard all day.

The man was absolutely right. Stiles had nothing to thank him for. In fact, from what he had gathered, the man was to blame for all of this.

In case the Alpha had forgotten, Stiles had been in that room. He had heard, clearly, who was responsible for his kidnapping. Stiles had huddled in the corner while the man, unknowingly, confessed to orchestrating the entire operation. If it wasn't for him, Stiles would be home right now.

He didn't care that the Alpha had potentially saved him from getting a bullet through the brain.

No good deed that man did could cancel out his profound guiltiness.

Make no mistake, the Alpha was guilty.

Stiles had known men like him before. They made you think they were good people, made you think you could let your guard down. They manipulated you into trusting them, and then pulled the floor out from under you.

They laughed watching you fall.

This man was violent, and cruel. What made it worse was that he was smart, and that made him unpredictable. He had the resources to crush entire cities, and the brains to know precisely where to strike. The Alpha was meticulous and cunning.

He lay in waiting, a wolf prepared to pounce.

Here lay Stiles, a willing rabbit.

He had been a fool to trust this man for even a second. Shame flushed through him as he remembered the man's hands on him, holding him, protecting him as if they weren't strangers. Stiles was embarrassed at how weak he had been, how willing he had been to lay in those arms. But what Stiles hated most, what struck him at his core, was that he had felt safe in those brief moments.

It sickened him.

Stiles should hate the man with every fiber of his being.

Stiles was more alone now than he'd ever been; he'd just lost the only person in his life he thought he could trust. His father had all but sold him, knowing he was forsaking his only child to the mercy of a monster.

Stiles had never expected anything from his father. Not food on the table, not a house to keep them warm, not even a hello in the morning. Even with his low expectations, his father still managed to surprise him.

No, that was wrong.

Stiles wasn't surprised. Nothing about this situation warranted his surprise.

Stiles was hurt.

His father had abandoned him, left him in the hands of a people who might collectively kill him tomorrow.

The truth of it made Stiles waiver. The possibility of dying had become a tangible reality.