Slapped Him

Roselia cried in her sleep. She fought imaginary demons and monsters. She'd always wake up with the pillows on the floor and her limbs tangled in the blankets. She'd take the tears over the screams that'd leave her throat hoarse in the morning. And when she woke up, she'd pretend nothing happened.

"So uh, you gonna make up with Crudent?" Noah asked her in the gardens. 

Five more days had passed after that encounter with Cruden and Kallum in the hallways. 

"It's been how long now?" Noah counted on his fingers before running out of it on both hands. "It's been a total of eleven days since the two of you spoke to each other."

Roselia proceeded to dump the plant food into the dented water can. She stirred the powder in silence. Who injured the poor gardening equipment? 

"I mean, you rarely talk to me as it is," Noah huffed. "I've come to learn you're woman of little words, I get it. But this silent war is not fun, you know. For almost two weeks, Cruden's been in a pissy mood. He snaps at everything and everyone. He—"

Roselia glanced at him, almost pleading for him to shut up. She didn't care that Cruden was annoyed. He could ruin all of his expensive furniture for all its worth. He could burn as many bridges as he'd like, she would bat as much of an eye as he did during her life-threatening moment—none. She wouldn't even blink if he decided to pummel the punching bag until the heavy sand poured out.

"Fine," Noah huffed. "Go water the flowers."

Roselia tended to the garden, wondering who was keeping it so alive. Cruden spoke of a gardener, but she seldom saw him in this private one wrapping around the sides and back of the house. The gardener was always trimming the bushes and trees lining the perimeters, but never laid a finger on these well-grown flowers.

"I hate nature," Noah groaned, dipping his head back under the sun umbrella. He relaxed his arms on the tea table and watched her in boredom. "Don't you get tired of the sticky dirt and mundane watering cycle?"

Roselia initially assumed Noah was the one keeping this garden alive, but given his visible disgust or anything that dirtied his fingers, she realized he wasn't this place's owner. Cruden referred to this place as "Noah's flowerbeds," but that was clearly wrong.

Roselia leaned down, pouring extra attention to the roses, her necklace dangling above a petal.

"I've been wanting to ask for a while now," Noah drawled, spinning the pen of his touchscreen tablet in between his fingers. He was bored of his homework. "Who gave you that necklace? It's cheap, but cute."

Roselia paused. "Someone that once meant the world to me, but no longer exists because of me."

Noah whistled. "Deep."

Roselia chuckled.

Noah broke into a grin, sliding higher in his chair. "I've got it now! I know what poem I'm going to turn in."

Roselia shook her head at his antics. At the end of the day, he was just a high school boy barely of age. How old was he again? Seventeen? 

Abruptly, his chair scrapped against the grass. Quick and loud enough for Roselia to turn around, wondering what was the panic for. He shot to his feet, his eyes momentarily glazed over.

"You have to go upstairs!" Noah urged, his mindlink ending. 

"What, why?" Roselia asked.

"Someone forced his way in, demanding to see you," Noah rushed. He grabbed her, pulling her to the garden doors, but they couldn't get to the stairs without seeing who was at the foyer first. 

Noah was just a boy. He wasn't faster or smarter than a man with more years of life than him.

"Rosie!" Ronald called out, noticing her instantly. He could recognize her in a crowd of women with black hair and green eyes. 

"Ronald," Roselia realized. 

The intruder was her older brother.

What was Ronald doing here? The last Roselia knew of him, he had been on house arrest for three years. Just as she was kept in Alpha Kerpan's pack, he was imprisoned in his own home. She wondered if their father let Ronald out only on important businesses that the heir to Fiore Pack must attend. No matter what.

"I had to see you Rosie," Ronald huffed from the doorway where armed guards in black blocked him out. 

Where did they come from? Had they always been there?

Roselia deduced they were the people often stationed at every few feet of the gates and driveways leading up to Tiberias Pack.

"Move!" Ronald roared, shoving one of his oppressors, but they didn't budge. They were solid as iron and trained since birth.

"You must leave the premises immediately, Mr. Fiore. This is our final warning. The next resistance will be met with punishment—"

"Rosie, please," Ronald pleaded. "I just want to talk."

Noah slid protectively in front of Roselia. "Do you want to see him?" he whispered to her.

Roselia couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He had changed. He had gotten paler. His skin was no longer sunkissed. His cheeks were sharper. Higher. He was older now. Crueler. She saw it in the ways his canines didn't hesitate to protrude. If he wanted to, he could tear their throats right now. Without having to shift.

"One moment please," Roselia finally forced out.

Ronald exhaled, relief lighting up his refined features. The guards didn't budge. 

"Let him through," Noah commanded.

The soldiers parted like the Red Sea.

"Leave us," Noah stated. They walked out in sync, a result from training together their whole lives. "I'll be in the living room with the doors open. Holler if you need me."

Noah began to depart, but Ronad was quicker. He raced to Roselia, arms opening in the last second to pull her for a hug. Between the two of them, Roselia was the fastest. The skinniest. The angriest.

PAK!

Noah spun around in shock and disbelief. A thudding silence filled the air, accompanied by Ronald's sharp exhale. He touched his face, where her palm left a bright red mark.

Roselia had slapped him.