A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 22 - 21

Chapter 22: Chapter 21

LAYLA

Thalion, Namarie, and Xylara—that was what I called the triplets of cats I’d adopted. They weren’t little kittens, probably well into their adult years in cat terms, but they seemed to like me, and I didn’t mind them either. In fact, they had become my quiet companions in this strange place. I found comfort in their company, their soft purring a kind of rhythm that helped me forget, if only for a while, the reality of my situation.

They followed me everywhere, their curious eyes watching as I wandered the gardens or slipped into the library to lose myself in books. Sometimes I wondered if they sensed my loneliness. Or maybe, like me, they just wanted something to hold onto.

I hadn’t intended to find things to cherish here. I told myself this place was nothing more than a prison, no matter how grand it looked on the outside. But over time, I found myself forming attachments to the little things—the cats, the way the morning sun filtered through the garden’s tall trees, and the scent of fresh flowers James left on my windowsill when I didn’t visit the garden myself.

I wasn’t sure why he did it. Maybe it was some attempt to soften the edges of my captivity, or perhaps he simply wanted to brighten the dull space I spent most of my days in. Either way, I didn’t mind. I never asked, and he never offered an explanation.

Life here wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. Certainly better than back in Sy, where I was a constant outcast, ridiculed for my inability to shift. At least here, no one called me weak to my face. No one laughed behind my back. No one looked at me like I was broken.

But even as the days passed, as I settled into a routine that felt almost peaceful, it didn’t stop the gnawing hunger inside me. The desire for freedom. Complete freedom.

I found myself wondering—what would life be like if I could truly be free from everything? Free from the Lycan King, free from the curse of being a half shifter, free from the memories of rejection that clung to me like shadows. The garden was beautiful, the library rich with stories, and the cats comforting, but it was still a cage. Just a gilded one.

I glanced down at my wrist, where the scar had been. It was fully healed now, the skin smooth and unmarked, as if the wound had never been there at all. The ointment Elara had given me had worked faster than I expected, and though I was grateful, it left me with an odd sense of unease. As though the evidence of my pain had simply been wiped away.

Elara had never spoken of it, of course. She hadn’t asked questions when she first cleaned the wound, nor did she mention it afterward when the bandage was needed. I appreciated her silence. It wasn’t something I wanted to be reminded of.

But I couldn’t forget. No matter how much time passed, no matter how healed my body became, the scars in my mind still lingered. The loneliness. The rejection. The feeling of being trapped in a world that saw me as less. Even now, with the wound gone, the ache inside remained.

The Lycan King had seemed to forget about me entirely. He was too busy, too consumed with his own affairs to bother with his runaway bride he’d forced into this match. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. I supposed it didn’t matter. As long as he stayed away, I could pretend, for a little while, that I wasn’t trapped.

So I walked through the garden, fed the cats, visited the library, and read books filled with lives I could never live. Each day passed in quiet solitude, and part of me began to think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the worst fate I could have imagined.

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Freedom was still out there, just beyond the walls of this place. It was waiting for me. If only I could reach it.

I was lost in my thoughts when the door creaked open, and Elara stepped into the room. She moved quietly, her presence calm, as if she was afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace lingered here. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a braid, and her sharp, knowing eyes softened when they met mine.

"My lady," she said in that measured voice of hers. She wasn’t one for unnecessary words, and yet there was always an understanding behind her tone that made me feel less alone. "I’m here to apply your ointment."

I glanced down at my wrist reflexively, though the skin had long since healed. "I don’t need it anymore," I said, my voice sounding distant even to myself. I held up my wrist, showing her the unmarred flesh. "It’s gone."

Elara nodded but didn’t seem surprised. "Yes, it does seem that way."

I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I watched as she crossed the room, placing the small jar of ointment on the table beside the bed. She didn’t press me, just stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting.

"I told you I needed some time alone so why are you here, Elara?" I asked, breaking the silence. I wasn’t angry—just curious. She hardly ever left my side and I was starting to wonder if it was really kindness or surveillance.

She looked out the window for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "You seem... distant. More than usual."

I shrugged, not really sure what to say. How could I explain that I was floating somewhere between acceptance and rebellion, between finding comfort in the small things and feeling like I was suffocating? How could I tell her that, despite everything, I was starting to care about this place and that terrified me?

"I’m fine," I said, which wasn’t entirely true.

Elara raised an eyebrow, not believing me for a second. She walked closer, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on me again. "You know you don’t have to lie to me, my lady. This place—it has a way of making you feel like you’re okay when you’re not."

"I don’t feel okay," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I feel... stuck. I keep wondering what life would be like if I could just leave. If I didn’t have to be here, if I wasn’t bound to him." I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice steady. "And I don’t know if I’ll ever feel free, even if I do escape."

Elara studied me quietly for a moment before speaking. "Freedom isn’t always about where you are, my lady. Sometimes, it’s about how much of yourself you’re willing to let go of."

"You’re not free yourself, are you?" I asked, searching her expression.

She smiled widely. "I’ve found my happiness, my lady. That’s all the freedom I need."