Getting away with the Alpha's Pup

Chapter 125

Giovanni's Perspective

The night enveloped the room in darkness akin to ink, with moonlight seeping through the chilly chamber via the weathered stone windows. It cast a pallid glow upon Fern's face, her expression wrought with pain and helplessness. My punishment of her had just concluded, leaving her still bearing the marks I had inflicted. Fern lay still, her eyes closed, her frail figure almost blending into the shadows that enveloped the room.

I reclined nearby, observing Fern with a mixture of emotions swirling within me. Memories from her childhood flooded my mind, memories of a time when she had looked up to me as her older brother. She had been entirely reliant on me then, trusting me implicitly. As I surveyed the scene, a pang of pity and guilt washed over me. Despite my best efforts to bury them, these emotions gnawed at the edges of my conscience, refusing to be silenced.

However, any remorse I felt dissipated when I reflected on how all the benevolence ceased once Fern's parents discovered my inappropriate intentions toward her. Yet, this was seemingly fated by Nuu-Chaah, the Moon Goddess, and if it were an abhorrent mistake, then the blame did not rest solely with me.

"I hate you, Giovanni," Fern's words reverberated in my mind, cutting through my thoughts and igniting anger within me. I reached out to stroke Fern's face, my emotions a tumultuous mix. "Don't blame me, my dear sister."

Yet, a sense of unease began to stir within me as I observed Fern more closely. Something felt amiss, unsettling my mind.

---

In the hospital, after Dr. Eric meticulously examined Fern's frail form, he turned to me with a solemn expression. "Her body is extremely weakened, and malnutrition has rendered it almost unable to endure any external stressors. If this persists, she may..."

Eric's words trailed off, but their implication was clear. I stood beside Fern's bed, gazing at her fragile figure, reminiscing about what once was. Fern had once been vibrant and cheerful, her sunny disposition bringing joy to those around her. I recalled her spirited debates with me after my adoption, her eyes sparkling with determination. But now, she lay pale and emaciated, a heartbreaking sight.

A different emotion stirred within me, leaving me somewhat bewildered by its nature.

"Treat her well. I need her alive," I managed to utter, my voice strained and gravelly, as if choked with emotion.

"Giovanni, you're not developing unwarranted feelings for her, are you? Remember, she's Alpha Dylan's daughter. You shouldn't forget what her parents did to you or grow soft on her."

My brow furrowed slightly, reluctant to acknowledge the shift within me. I replied coldly, "I simply want to ensure her survival. After all, she's the linchpin of this game, isn't she?"

Aurora continued, "Is that so? But it seems like you're showing pity for her..."

"Aurora, mind your language," I frowned, interrupting her abruptly.

Aurora froze for a moment, then her eyes reddened, and with a hint of frustration, she said, "Giovanni, I'm sorry. I just care about you too much. You haven't been the same since you brought Fern back, and I just..."

Aurora's words caught me off guard. Had I changed? Because of Fern?

Glancing at Aurora, my girlfriend, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

"I'm sorry, Aurora. I was too oblivious to your feelings. But trust me, okay? Nothing will change between us because of anyone else."

Aurora's words gradually subdued the strange emotion in my heart. I turned away from Fern, lying on the hospital bed, and felt cold inside once more.

---

I had instructed Fern to move out of the basement and stay in the Luna suite, all for her better recovery. After all, as I had said, I wasn't willing to end this game by letting Fern die easily.

I convinced myself of this, deliberately ignoring the abnormal emotion inside me.

Fern woke up, opening her eyes to see me standing beside the bed with a cold expression.

"You're awake," I said icily. "You better remember this lesson."

Fern nodded her head without saying anything.

For some reason, her silence annoyed me.

Giving her a cold look, I turned to leave.

As I closed the door, I thought I heard Fern's stifled sobs.

She was crying. Why was she in tears?

As I left the room, my frustration churned in my mind. What was her issue?

When she opened her eyes and gazed at me, the fear etched on her face fueled my anger.

I had witnessed fear in others, but never in Fern's eyes. Even then, I couldn't shake the feeling that such fear didn't belong on a face as lovely as hers. Fern... Her countenance should always radiate with smiles.

Such a notion startled me.

Yet, seeing her in such a state, regardless of the circumstances, made me feel monstrous. Along the corridor, I trudged toward my room. Her fearful eyes lingered in my mind, unsettling me. I craved a stiff drink to calm my nerves.

The liquor cabinet in my room was well-stocked as usual. Whiskey had, at one point, become my preferred form of therapy. I plucked a glass from the shelf, seized the crystal decanter, and poured the dark amber liquid into my glass.

As it grazed my lips, I closed my eyes, relishing the whiskey's flavor and the solace it provided. It was the only refuge left to numb the pain, a necessity. My mind cloaked in a fog from the alcohol's effects.

"Fern..." Her name lingered on my tongue, impossible to shake from my thoughts.

"Damn it!" I erupted, slamming my now-empty glass onto the counter, watching it shatter and scatter across the floor.