Alphas Possession

Harlow POV

I had been down here now for a week. I was going stir-crazy. There was no TV down here, no window low enough for me to look out of, only the bed and the bathroom. A few storage boxes at the far back, I had rummaged through them and only managed to find some paperwork and a red pen along with an old lamp shade.

On day two, I tried the windows, yet I couldn’t get them to unlock. I thought about smashing them but knew they would hear and I wasn’t sure punching it was a good idea. I would probably only end up hurting myself. So instead, I did what I did every day,

showered and slept.

Ate when I would hear the door open up before Thane or the housekeeper would set food on the top step. I tried waiting by the door a couple of times, but the times were so . random that I would end up with a sore back and have to leave the steps. Only to miss the brief chance I had each day. It made me wonder if there was a hidden camera on the stairs I couldn’t see.

Sometime later, I would guess around lunchtime; I heard the door open before I heard my food be set on the step and Thane’s scent wasted to me. My belly rumbled hungrily, and I forced myself up before stopping by the documents I found and had been doodling on. Glancing at the steps, I wondered if he was in the kitchen still. Retrieving my red pen that was running out of ink, I scribbled on a piece of paper. Can I have a TV?

| glanced at my handwriting before climbing the steps to retrieve the sandwich left there. It was the same thing every day, and I was getting sick of eating ham and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Sick of eating soup and bread for dinner. Mostly I hated the porridge of a morning that I always tipped down the toilet. I couldn’t stand the smell of it.

is in the kitchen and sees it. A few seconds later, it was

sinks. It was so quiet down here, lonely.

A book?

slid the paper under the door again, and it didn’t take long before it was plucked from my fingers. Only I get no answer this time. Instead, I get the front page of the daily newspaper pushed under the door. I stare at it. Emotion chokes me that he would deny something so minuscule. What does it matter if I read? Yet I had one page of a newspaper that was taken up mainly by a black and white

but all | see is only the tiles that lead into the kitchen.

was being built across the other side of the city, yet the page ended before I could find out the juicy details of where exactly. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t

I slipped deeper into my head, deeper into the depression that came with it. Only the door’s opening and footsteps on the stairs made me shoot upright

hand. I stood up to convince him to let me upstairs. Yet the moment I

tray on the tiny table that I found was attached to the floor. I know because I tried to move it closer to a window.

sets it on the counter beside the washing machine and loads it in. Neither of them said anything to me, which kind of bugged me. A conversation with