Chapter Six

                                    

                                          
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Word Count; 1929
                          
~Faye 
                          
I knock four times on the door in rapid succession. 
                          
Only a few seconds pass before it's flung open, and he's standing there. The Huntsman. My own personal Guard. Cal.
                          
He squints in the light of my bedroom, as his gaze sweeps over me, looking for any sense of damage on my body. When he finds nothing but a fully dressed Alpha with no sign of injury, his eyes find my face, as he leans back against the doorframe. Considering it's the middle of the night, the less than alert expression on his face tells me he would rather be asleep, which he was before, considering his shiftless looked and mussed hair. 
                          
"Alpha, is everything okay?" he asks gently, raising an eyebrow at my completely fine appearance. 
                          
"Not really," I say warily. 
                          
Despite how desperately I tried to keep my gaze levelled with his, it drifted down, naturally. Why does he have to sleep without a shirt on? It's not fair. He's clearly been in his fair share of fights, and looks like he could take down anyone who comes at him. What's most surprising, that I never noticed earlier, is the fact that he has a tattoo. It starts at his breastbone, sloping down across his ribs and to his stomach. 
                          
Concern flutters across his face at that. "Tell me what's wrong. Is someone in your room?"
                          
He brushes past me, yet finds nothing but my bed, completely untouched. I haven't slept yet. There's been too much to get done, and now, I'm dragging Cal into this. 
                          
"I went and visited the prisoner..." I say quickly, as if it would make him potentially less angry at me. He whirled around, eye wide, fists clenched by his side. A part of him looks like he should have expected it, but he's still furious. 
                          
"You what?" he seethes.
                          
I shrugged meekly, knowing I have to admit the entire story for this to make sense. "I also went into his cell...then let him out."
                          
There were too many expressions to decipher on his face. He's not just angry, he's stunned and surprised. I noticed he even slightly trembled, as if he struggled to contain how livid he is. It's a strange sight, considering he's a Huntsman. 
                          
"But he's back in his cell, which is the weird part," I admit, remembering how he suddenly appeared back there after I watched him walk off in the other direction. 
                          
"That's the weird part?" Cal echoes in disbelief. His expression would be comical in another situation. "Were you expecting him to just escape?"
                          
I sigh; he's clearly not understanding. 
                          
Motioning him into my room, I point at my bed for him to sit on. I watch him as he walks. His shoulders are tense, as he already begins to the process of beating himself up for letting this happen once again. My mother should have known that hiring a Personal Guard for me is just useless. 
                          
When he finally sits, mouth in a flat line, eyebrow curved into an irritated drown, I start explaining myself. 
                          
"When he first broke in, he actually spoke to me. Then he woke you, as if he wanted to be caught. Naturally, I had to know why, so I snuck down, knowing you would never approve, and tried to speak to him, wanting answers. When he refused to speak, because of the cameras, I took him outside," I explain. It sounds worse sounding it would.