Bad Love: An Alpha's Regret

Chapter 340

I knew it couldn’t last, and all too soon, Axel is shifting, pulling away from me.

Except he doesn’t let me go and get up from the bed.

He simply loosens his hold and leans back from me, then sets his hand beneath my chin so I’m forced

to look up at him.

I can’t even imagine how wrecked I must appear right now.

After that hurricane of rage in the cellar storeroom leaving my hair in a tangle, and now with tears

wetting my face, I must look quite the sight.

However, Axel doesn’t seem to notice.

He looks worried—like he actually cares about me—as he stares down at me with a furrowed brow.

“Emily,” he says, again in that low voice that makes me shiver. “Talk to me. What happened down

there?”

I’m not really ready to talk—truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about this—but I know it's

long past time I actually started telling someone, anyone, some of the things that happened to me.

I take a deep breath and have to look away from him, focusing on the wall beyond his shoulder.

“When you took me—locked me—in the cellar, it triggered memories from when the old Roberts Alpha

used to—”

I plan to say more, but it’s like words suddenly leave my brain.

Axel looks distressed.

“Emily, you don’t have to tell me. Whatever it is, it’s in the past. I’m sorry, if I’d known—”

“But you didn’t know, not enough of it anyway,” I tell him, because it looks like he’s ready to start

beating himself up over it. “Because I didn’t tell you. Because I refused to talk to anyone about what

happened to me. Like I could make it go away, make it hurt less, make me less broken if I forced it to

be in the past and pretended it didn’t affect me now. But it’s not that easy. It’s not going to go away

unless I deal with it.”

I take a deep breath, returning my gaze to Axel to find him watching me closely, and I think I see a hint

of pride in his gaze.

“I need to start dealing with it,” I say resolutely, even though I’m terrified of facing the things inside me.

Especially the biggest secret I’m keeping from everyone. “And the way to do that is to begin by talking.

At least that’s what the pack therapist told me. I need to tell you what happened, so you understand.”

Axel nods, his gaze trained on me, giving me his undivided attention, as if nothing could be more

important to him at this moment.

I take another slow breath as I feel my pulse rate picking up.

“The old Roberts Alpha had a few different ways he would punish me. Sometimes it was because I did

something wrong—though not often. After a few years, I tried my hardest to be good and docile so he

would leave me alone. But sometimes he punished me simply because he was in a bad mood, or

because something was going wrong in his pack, or because he’d get some news about Leah he didn’t

like. One of the things he did sometimes was lock me in the storm cellar beneath the house. It wasn’t

much bigger than a closet. There was no light, and he used to toss me down there for hours or

sometimes days at a time without any food or water.” Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Axel is listening, but I can see his anger growing, and suddenly I’m unsure about telling him anymore.

Why is he getting angry?

Did I do something wrong?

I feel myself beginning to shrink away from him, but he gentles his hold and smoothed his expression.

“Emily, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Axel says in a gentle voice. “And I know how much it must

have taken for you to tell me that, so thank you for sharing with me.”

“Then why are you getting angry?” I dare to ask him, though my voice is hesitant and not much more

than a whisper.

Axel lifts one of his hands and gentle runs it over my tangled hair in a comforting, affectionate gesture,

one I wouldn’t have ever thought to associate with the deadly Slayer.

“I’m not angry at you, I promise. I want for you to be able to tell me these things. Believe it or not, I

understand. Probably more precisely than you can imagine.”

“You can?” I say curiously. I never imagined Axel and I might be able to have such an open, honest

conversation like this.

“I’m centuries old, Emily,” he says and there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Unfortunately, some of

that time was spent locked up at the hands of my enemies. Maybe I’ll tell you more about it sometime.

But for now, I just want you to know I intimately understand that kind of torture.”

My mind shies away from the description of torture.

I don’t like thinking that’s what happened to me.

But it’s the truth.

I was psychologically and physically tortured over ten years in a variety of terrible ways.

“Then why the anger?” I ask, not feeling as intimidated any longer.

“Because, right now I’m wishing I had the power to drag that old bastard back from hell so I can make

him pay for every second he hurt you. For you, I’d make him regret the day he was born.”