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.

at the gap beneath the door and slide paper through, pinched between my fingers. I wiggle it, hoping someone is in the kitchen and sees it. A few seconds later, it was plucked from my fingers, and I gasped excitedly that someone was there. A

Thane snaps at me from the other side of the door, and my stomach sinks. It was so quiet down here, lonely. Fighting back the tears, I use the pen to

A book?

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

the rest just didn’t fit through, but all | see is only the tiles that lead into the kitchen. With a sigh, I grab my sandwich and walk back down the

of the city, yet the page

depression that came with it. Only the door’s opening and footsteps on the stairs made

to convince him to let me upstairs. Yet the moment I climb out of the

where you are until I leave,” he orders as he sets down the 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. The

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