Celestial and the Alpha

Chapter 6: The Cellars

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Celeste's POV

The cellars were dark and scary, located in an underground bunker on a far side of the pack grounds. The walls were cement and covered in mildew. A cold air bounced between the walls, making me wish I had taken the sweater offered instead of just the t-shirt and shorts Xavier found for me. We had to go down a small stairwell to get to the base level, Xavier helping me down as I couldn't quite figure it out with the crutches and the small amount of space the stairway allowed. Xavier walked in front of me as we started passing cell after cell. Xavier explained that the first few cells were for pack members who committed forgivable crimes. He said they never stayed down here too long, a year at most. As we went further back, the cells became dirtier and the lighting was spaced out further, dimmer too. I tried to ignore the dark stains on the floors and the occasional growling rogue. Xavier said that these rogues were nonviolent in action and he hoped to one day possibly have them join the pack, if they could prove to break their rogue tendencies. He was hesitant while he explained that violent rogues, if taken in in the first place, were typically not kept for long. He didn't have to go into detail for me to figure out what that meant. We were pretty deep into the cellars when we stopped in front of a medium sized cell with two rogues in it. They both had chains attached to one leg as well as cuffs linking their hands together. I could hear what sounded like screams coming from further down and I unconsciously found myself shifting closer to Xavier.

"Where's the third one?" I had whispered as quietly as I could but the two rogues still lifted their heads up at my voice. They both look me up and down before giving each other a look I don't like. Xavier shifts his stance to block their view of me a bit, still allowing me to see them.

"Being tortured," he spits out. "He hurt one of my third in command and now he's paying the price." As if on cue, a scream louder than the ones I'd been hearing echoes down the hallway. The two rogues in front of us flinch away, from Xavier or the scream I am unsure of. "Even my least violent man is causing that amount of pain to your friend," Xavier directly says to the rogues, "so imagine what's going to happen to you two." I flinch at that. Xavier looks back at me, "Sorry," he brushes a hand up my arm. Chuckles from in front of us draw our attention back to the two rogues.

"So that's why we're down here?" The one who speaks has dark green eyes. While I had quickly associated the color green to Xavier's beautiful eyes, swirling with multiple shades and comforting feelings, these reminded me of a murky swamp. "Because the stupid runt is your mate?" Xavier growled and, out of an instinct I never knew I had, I placed my hand on his arm. His shoulders remained stiff but the growl stopped as he placed his hand on top of mine, stroking his thumb against my skin.

"Did you two come down here to chit chat or are you actually going to kill us?" I glance at the other rogue. He was staring directly in my eyes. "Let me guess, big bad Alpha is going to kill us while the little girl watches? That's a little fucked up on her end," his eyes moved from mine to Xavier, "don't you think?" He chuckled again.

"That would be up to her." My eyes widened as I took in what Xavier said. Up to me? To watch them die or choose for them to die? Two, maybe three lives, lay in my hand. I look at Xavier and he gives me a soft nod of reassurance. I let my mind drift to Mom. She's dead because of them. One of the only people to love me and care for me all these years. And she's gone. Because of these bastards. The thought sickens me but. . . I want these creatures dead. I want them more than dead. I want them to go through hell. I want them to experience even a fracture of the pain I felt at my loss. These thoughts scare me but no other solution sounds good. What would Mom think of me for having these thoughts? Or Dad? Would they be repulsed? Ashamed of their daughter who they loved so dearly? I can't imagine Mom wanting me to have these violent thoughts. To let such violent actions happen. But. . . They're dead. Mom is dead because of these assholes. Mom is dead. Mom is dead. . .