Page 16 of Vicious Luna
Dad steps over to where I’m still seated, setting a hand on my shoulder and gazing down at me with sympathy.
“It’s fine,” I grumble, shrugging his hand off. “I’ll get it set.”
He nods, taking the hint that I don’t want to talk about it and turning away to head back inside. I hear the patio door open and close as I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands.
We never should’ve split up for the full moon. I had a bad feeling about heading south with my dad while Ben and Miller took their teams up north that night, but I kept it to myself. We hadn’t seen any real action for a while, so Dad thought the best play was to divide and conquer; try to hit two packs at once and hope to finally get some results. I was so checked out that I didn’t raise any objections. I didn’t even recognize how flawed the plan was until it was too late.
We should’ve scouted more before going in. Should’ve known not to underestimate their numbers. Instead, all we could do was listen in on our comms as everything went to shit, knowing we were too far away to do anything about it. There was no way to save them.
Twenty-one men went out on that mission, and none of them made it back alive. In the history of The Guild, we’veneversustained casualties like that, and the only thing keeping me going now is the belief that my best friend’s death won’t be in vain.
I’ll slaughter them all myself if I have to.For Ben.
It’sno surprise that thinking of the full moon massacre sent me spiraling again. I’d planned to interrogate our prisoner this afternoon, but instead wound up hiding out in my room forthe rest of the day, drowning my sorrows with vodka. Ben had a stash of Russian vodka that we used to shoot to celebrate successful missions, so it seemed appropriate to raid the cache beneath his bed and drink the stuff in his memory. It’s not like he’s coming back for it.
My dad stopped by a few hours ago to tell me he was heading out with the Delta team, and the dull rumble of chatter from those who were left behind died out not long after. Even the Luna’s fast asleep, curled up on the cot in her cell and using the towel I threw in there as a blanket. Watching her on the video feed has become my newest hobby. I could’ve dragged my ass out of my room and gone down to visit her at any point, but it’s much more interesting to observe people when they’re alone. That’s when they drop their guard and show their true selves.
Though I might’ve actually chipped away at her armor earlier, judging by the drastic change in her behavior. Rather than furiously pacing her cell all day, continuing her futile search for a way out, she’s just been laying there sulking.
Maybe I’ve already broken her?
The wave of disappointment that ripples through me at that thought takes me by surprise, because breaking her down was supposed to be my objective. I should be glad that I accomplished it so soon. Instead, I’m like a kid regretting breaking their new toy before they really got a chance to play with it, wondering if there’s a way to salvage the pieces.
The pounding headache that I’ve been fighting off for days suddenly intensifies, prompting me to snap my laptop closed and finally leave my room in search of something else to drink. I should’ve passed out by now after taking down an entire bottle of vodka. Though with as much as I’ve been drinking lately, it stands to reason that I’ve developed a tolerance.
My bare feet slap against the hardwood as I make my way through the dark hallway of the cabin and into the kitchen, skirting around the island to get to the fridge. I pull it openand grab a beer from inside the door, my gaze catching on the grey plastic tray resting on the middle shelf inside the refrigerator as I go to swing it closed.
Shit. I forgot to feed her.
Clutching the neck of the beer bottle in one hand, I reach in to pick up the tray with the other, chewing my lip absently as I check out what Matty prepared for my beastie. In addition to the usual stack of crackers, there’s sliced cheese, deli meat, and a slightly bruised apple. It’s basically an adult Lunchable. Not gourmet cuisine by any means, but definitely a step up from what she’s been given thus far.
It’s pushing two a.m., so I should probably just let her sleep. Then again, she was the one who opened the door for the use of psychological warfare. Feeding her at unpredictable times will mess with her mind. Or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to go downstairs and see her in the flesh.
Tucking my unopened beer beneath my arm, I add a bottle of water to the tray and nudge the fridge door closed with an elbow, heading for the basement. I may not be drunk enough to pass out yet, but it’s still a feat to balance the tray while keying in the door code. Somehow I manage to pull it off, opening the door, snagging the keys from the hook inside, and descending the stairs in the dark.
I probably should’ve turned the lights on, but I’m more comfortable in the dark. My demons prefer it. The windows in the cells must be giving off a decent amount of illumination from the moon, because I have no trouble navigating my way down the stairs to the Luna’s cell. She’s still laying on the cot when I approach the bars, curled on her side in the fetal position with the towel tucked around her body.
I just stand there for a moment looking in at her, debating whether I should wake her or just leave the tray and go. I’m still frozen in indecision when she shifts her weight slightly on the cot and I hear her speak.
“If you’re here to gloat, save it,” she mumbles, her voiceraspy. “I’m gonna get out of here, and when I do, you’re all dead.”
My heart trips over its valves, an odd sensation of guilt creeping in despite the fact that she’s openly threatening me. Because even knowing what she is- knowing full well that she’s an inhuman monster- right now, she just seems like a sad girl.
I clench my jaw as I stare at her through the thick steel bars, recalling my thought from this morning.
“You wanna know what pretty birds and feral beasts have in common?” I ask rhetorically, eyes fixed on her unmoving form. “They’re both better off in cages.”
Luna pushes up to a sitting position, turning at the waist to face me. Even though the darkness, her eyes blaze with defiance, that spark still very much alive and well when they meet mine. “Where’syourcage, then?” she scoffs.
“In my mind,” I deadpan.
She stares at me for a long moment, squinting like she’s trying to see beneath my skin. Then she finally breaks eye contact, shaking her head with a sigh. “Just go away,” she whispers.
“I think you’re forgetting who has the power here,” I murmur as I fit the key into the lock of the cell door, pushing it open just enough to drop her tray on the ground inside.
“Being on that side of the bars doesn’t make you more powerful,” she mutters as she watches me warily.
“Maybe not,” I shrug as I straighten and pull the door closed again. “But you being trapped in there makes you less.”