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ABSENCE OF AUTHORITY LEADS TO AN EASE OF MANIPULATION, and Violet Vale lost her sense of control over her liveliness a long time ago. To fathom her current state is to first and foremost understand her one and only motivation, her guidance when the voice of consciousness in her mind decayed. And like most things and their deposition, it was all because of a boy— son of the apex of apex predators, love of her life (or so he tells her).
ReidDeucalion, her saviour and her torment.
And Reid Deucalion, the very reason she's being thrown into this cell in the midst of the abandoned building. With more force than necessary, Aidan pushed her into the vacant cell room.
Stumbling back in her steps, her back met with the werewolf's chest. When she twisted on her heels, she faced the alpha pack's prisoner, a werewolf who's eyes lit up at the sight of her. She heard the change in his breathing when he examined her, his breaths that were once shallow pantings turning into heavy sighs. "Are you—" He cut himself off abruptly when she carried herself to the opposite end of the room. "Are you okay?"
Violet identified the werewolf to be Isaac Lahey, and knew that this was one of the rare occurrences in which the alpha pack hadn't sedated him unconscious, and she knew it was because they'd wanted the two to communicate. As a matter of fact, this entire scene was been tailored for this very reason, down to her cut. Lowering her gaze to her lap, she gaped at the blood that soaked through tights.
He took this time to observe her, though it was strenuous to attempt to when her head was facing the crimson puddle of blood that encompassed her lower limbs, her hair the colour of polished auburn moonstone with streaks of dried blood pasted onto the front strands and looming over her features. When she lifted her chin up, she was a tragic beauty he couldn't cease from gawking at.
Isaac, with the repercussion of the drugs he'd persistently be rendered insensible with for the duration of his time being held hostage, hadn't noticed he'd bern staring until she shot him a sharp look. When he tore his gaze off hers sheepishly, he regarded the pulsating cut on her leg.
"I can help." He spoke hesitantly. She peered up at the werewolf, sinking to the floor as the overwhelming throbbing from the wound weighed her down. "I could take away your pain." Carefully, she shook her head no, setting her gaze on him. Violet slowly hastened her eyes off his, taking a sudden interest in her shoes. "You don't speak much, do you?"
Hugging her knees, she traced the brown strand of her away from her face. The two managed to stay quiet as time passed with alacrity, glancing at each other mutedly every once in a while. Her stare was fixed on the floor, her back to the corner of the three wall room, the fourth wall being barricaded with bars not even a werewolf could fracture.
