I woke up to a bright light in my eyes.

Squinting, I pulled away from the light, pressing my head further back into the pillow.

"Good morning," a voice said softly.

I opened my eyes back up to see Dr. Witt's face hovering above me as she put her flashlight into the pocket of her scrubs.

Sitting up, I immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over me before a hand against my shoulder pressed me back down onto the bed.

"Take it easy," she said. "You're going to give yourself a headache."

I already had one. It felt like it was splitting my skull in half.

"Can you remember anything?" She asked.

I nodded slowly as the recollection began, playing in my mind like a movie reel. I could remember what had happened, just not why it had happened.

Gulping, I winced as the saliva slid down my throat; burning the whole way as if I'd taken a shot of hard liquor.

"You likely have minor tracheal trauma," she told me, noticing the pain that registered in my expression. "It doesn't look like you have a concussion, but we're monitoring you closely to make sure we haven't missed it."

I opened my mouth to speak, regretting it as soon as the hoarse words passed through my throat. I immediately began to cough, pain squeezing in my chest with each convulsion.

It felt like I had a boulder the size of an elephant sitting on my sternum.

I was nearly gasping for air, feeling myself begin to drown in anxiety as I was transported back to that moment in the Cellar, fighting for air.

"Let's calm down, okay?" Dr. Witt told me, her voice faint compared to the loud ringing in my ears.

I tried to sit up, nearly falling over the side of the bed I laid on. Completely disoriented, the room was spinning around me as I was pushed back onto the mattress.

I felt two hands grab mine and cross my arms across my chest, pressing down. This caused me to take a deep, but painful inhale.

Though my vision was clouded, I could barely make out the blurred figure above me.

His green eyes cut through the panic, my mind coming to a screeching halt.

"You're okay," he said firmly, his voice echoing inside my mind.

After a few painfully deep breaths, I felt myself begin to return to the world around me, feeling my body against the mattress I laid on and Luca's hands holding mine.

I noticed the ceiling fan spinning above him, realizing then that I was in his bedroom.

Luca leaned down, his lips pressing against my cheek as he held a kiss there.

"You're okay," he repeated against my skin, his voice softer.

As he stood up, I saw Dr. Witt standing there in shock. She looked at him briefly before holding out her stethoscope to his chest.

"So you do have a heart?" She asked incredulously.

He pushed the instrument in her hands away, rolling his eyes.

"As I was saying," Dr. Witt continued, turning to me. "Your throat is going to be pretty sore for a few days, so try and give your voice a rest. Eat soft foods. It's also worth mentioning that your intercostal muscles, the ones around your ribs, will probably be really sore as well. I've left you some pain medication that will help with this."

"Thank you," I wheezed out, nodding.

She smiled, placing a hand on my upper arm.

"You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

I nodded again, giving her a tight-lipped smile as she leaned down to pick up her tackle box that sat next to the bed.

"I'll show myself out," she told Luca.

"Thank you," he said, still standing next to the bed.

She walked around him and through the bedroom door. I heard the front door open and close shortly after she had disappeared from sight.

I looked back to Luca to see he was already staring at me. I broke the eye contact, looking up at the ceiling in shame for the next few moments.

Using my hands to push myself up slowly, I leaned back against the pillows that were propped up against the headboard.

He shook his head as I opened my mouth to speak.

"I've already decided that I wouldn't argue about this when you woke up," he said. "There's no point in it. Me berating you for a lesson you learned the hard way would just be a waste of breath."

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know what I was thinking," I whispered with a scratchy voice. "My mind just went blank after we talked and the next thing I remember were his hands were around my throat and then I remember you picked me up and nothing else."

I looked down to where Luca's hands were resting on the side of the bed, remembering then how they had been coated in blood the last time I'd seen him.

"It's over, Carrie," Luca assured me with a solemn expression. "He's dead. It's done. Let's move past it."

I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief hearing Johnathan was dead. His presence in the pack had been something that weighed on me since he'd been locked away and I felt somewhat freed by his death.

I looked down at my own hands to see they were still dirty, Johnathan's blood still trapped beneath my fingernails.

I began to pull back the covers, Luca stopping me.

"I need to shower," I said hoarsely.

I need to get rid of every reminder of that moment as possible, I thought.

He hesitated in letting me get down from the bed, his arm around my waist as he warily watched my feet touch the floor.

"Thank you," I said as he offered an arm to keep me steady.

I let Luca guide me into the bathroom, leaning against the vanity as he walked over to the shower to turn on the water.

I stood there for a moment, watching as he reached out to monitor the water temperature before grabbing a towel for me to use and draping it across the hook that sat outside the shower door.

"Can you help me, please?" I asked, gesturing to the t-shirt I wore.

Luca nodded before walking over to where I stood and helping me pull the t-shirt over my head. I tried not to wince as my arms lifted above my shoulders, a sharp pain in my side as I did so.

He reached behind me to unclasp my bra. With his assistance, I tugged off my shorts and panties.

Luca watched warily as I walked towards the shower and opened the glass door that enclosed it.

I slid down the marbled wall to sit on the floor, not having the strength to stand.

Luca leaned against the doorway, watching as I reached out to grab the bar of soap that sat on the ledge. I began to rub it between my hands, the suds slipping between my fingers and across my palms.

Picking under my finger nails, I watched the dried blood run down my hands as it washed away.

Feeling exhausted with the movement, I dropped my arms and leaned back against the wall to catch my breath.

I looked up to Luca to see he was still watching me.

"You don't have to stay," I told him. "It might take me a while at this rate."

Sighing, he reached over his head and pulled his shirt off before unbuckling his belt and sliding off his jeans as well.

Luca stepped into the shower in his boxer briefs, leaning down to take the soap from my hand. He helped me stand to my feet and kept me steady as I leaned back against the wall.

Rubbing the soap between his hands, he placed it down behind me on the shelf before running his hands down my arms, leaving a trail of bubbles behind.

I couldn't help but react to his touch, an ache forming between my legs as he moved across my body, massaging the skin under his hands.

He bent down, his hands washing up and down the length of both my legs. When he stood, I caught his gaze and he immediately dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Don't look at me like that," he pleaded, pulling me into the stream of water.

I closed my eyes as the water rolled down my face, opening them again when I felt Luca place the soap into my hand.

"You can do the rest," he said, backing away.

I watched as he left the shower, grabbing another towel that hung on a hook. He wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom.

I looked down at the soap, wishing he hadn't avoided the intimate areas on my body as he had helped me wash off.

After a few more minutes in the shower, I got out to dry off and wrap my own towel around me.

Reaching out to wipe the steam from the mirror, I gasped as I noticed the hand-shaped bruise on my neck. Raising my hand to touch it gingerly, I traced its outline.

I almost died.

I would likely have to stare at the bruise for several days, reminded each time I looked at it what a fool I was. How naïve I was. How absolutely idiotic I was.

What was I thinking? Why did I do that?

For the life of me, I couldn't remember the thoughts that prompted me to turn the door handle, much less those that had propelled me into the cell.

Luca was right, I couldn't be objective. I couldn't think with logic, not when it came to this.

I decided then, definitively, to let Luca deal with whatever happened next. I had lost the right to be apart of any decision that was made from then on out. Next time, there may be more at risk than my own life.

As I emerged from the bathroom into the empty bedroom, I noticed the sun setting in the large window behind Luca's bed.

I walked over to the closet and stole a t-shirt. Looking around at the empty space he had cleared for me, I sighed.

After taking the pain medicine Dr. Witt had left, I went upstairs to gather my things. Carrying the boxes into the closet, I began to unpack them one-by-one. I struggled to hang them on the rack above my head. My chest hurt every time my arms lifted higher than my shoulders.

Deciding I would reorganize after I had healed, I folded the clothes I couldn't hang and placed them on the shelves.

I was exhausted and out of breath when I sat down on the closet floor, having used all my energy to climb the staircase to the loft multiple times.

My eyebrows furrowing, I placed a hand over my chest as I felt it grow tighter, the immense pressure building there again. I tried to lengthen my inhales, but the dull pain in my rib cage made it nearly impossible.

Despite my best efforts, I found myself hyperventilating. The room grew cold around me as my vision began to blur.

I pulled my knees into my chest, feeling the panic rising.

You're okay, I kept thinking. You're okay.

I frantically reached around me and felt something soft. I yanked the sweater from the shelf and pushed my face into it to muffle my cries.

As the panic attack passed, I could feel my body warming back up. Luca's scent from his sweater finally registered in my senses and I felt myself relax.

With shaking hands, I stood up and began to refold the sweater and place it back on the shelf. As I did so, I noticed the small, bright blue box that had fallen to the floor.

I reached out to pick it up, realizing it must have been hidden inside the sweater. The white ribbon around it had come halfway untied as it had rolled to the floor.

When I picked it up, I saw the label and immediately dropped the box.

Tiffany & Co.

I shoved it back into the folded sweater and put it back on the shelf. I wrung out my hands nervously as I backed away from it, running into the doorway.

Turning to leave, I saw Luca watching me from his bedroom.

I felt my stomach drop.

"I wasn't snooping, I swear," I said quickly.

He gave me a small smile and nodded.

"I know."

I gulped, immediately wincing at the pain in my throat as I did so.

"I-I can pretend like I didn't see it," I stuttered out.

Luca began to walk towards me and I stepped backwards into the closet. He followed me inside, my back running into the end of the closet behind me as he bent down to pull out the sweater.

"I'm sorry," I told him, watching him take the box in his hands. "I didn't mean to find it."

He looked down at the box in his grasp, shaking his head as he turned it over.

"Don't apologize," he said, letting out a breathy laugh. "I'm surprised you didn't find it before now. I took it to the cabin with us, I just..."

He sighed.

"I couldn't work up the nerve to ask," he said finally.

A few moments of silence passed.

"How long have you had it?" I asked.

"A few weeks. I went and got it the day we ran together at the training fields," he answered, turning the box over in his hands. "That's why I was late getting home that night."

I reached out to stop him as he took the top off of the box.

"Stop," I told him, "you don't have to ask me if you're not ready."

He looked up from the box, staring at me with a fixed and intense gaze.

"I wasn't waiting until I was ready," he whispered. "I've been ready since the moment I met you."

I felt tears come to my eyes as he continued.

"I wanted you to be," he said. "I'm only asking this question once and I want the answer to be sincerely, enthusiastically, and fervently yes. Not out of pity. Not out of obligation. Not to please me."

He reached out to touch my face, my head leaning into his hand as he swept away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Can you give me that?" He asked softly.

"I want to," I admitted, trying not to cry harder than I was.

Luca's eyebrows furrowed.

"But?" He asked, his jaw clenched like he was physically preparing for the impact of my answer.

My bottom lip quivered as I blinked back tears.

"But I can't answer a question I haven't been asked."

He let out a long breath, pulling off the top of the box and dumping the bright blue leather box inside it into his palm. He tossed the white ribbon and remainder of the outside box to the floor as he bent down on one knee.

I felt time stop as he looked up at me and opened the leather box.

"I know that I haven't done the greatest at convincing you I'm worthy of your affection," Luca said. "But I've never wanted anything more than I want to be the man you love. I'm begging you, desperately, to teach me how to be him."

He took a shaky breath before continuing:

"I'm asking you for a second chance to prove myself. I realize this will require lots of patience and grace on your part, but I promise to do all I can and more to make loving me worth the effort it will take."

God, I don't deserve this man.

I lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that were rolling down my chin as he took another anxious breath.

"So, Caroline Blair," he said, a smile lifting to his lips. "Would you do me the great honor and privilege of being the man you spend the rest of your life with?"

I let out a long exhale as I bent down to my knees in front of Luca, taking his face in both my hands.

I drew closer to him, my heart racing.

"Sincerely, enthusiastically, and fervently... yes," I whispered.

Through blurry eyes, I saw Luca's smile widen just before he leaned in to kiss me, his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me into him.

He kissed my lips repeatedly before pulling away.

"Do you want to put this on?" He asked me, holding the open leather box between us.

I looked down to see a massive, radiant-cut diamond set into a diamond pavé band. Even in the closet, it sparkled.

"If you don't like it, I can let you pick out another one-"

I cut him off with a kiss.

"It's perfect," I whispered.

Luca pulled my left hand toward him and slid the ring onto my finger, kissing the inside of my palm after he did so.

I smiled as he leaned into kiss me again before he pulled away to let out a long sigh of relief.

"I waited too long to do that," he said, holding my face in his hands.

He laid his forehead against mine, my hands pressed to his chest.

"I'm so sick and tired of waiting," I admitted.

Luca chuckled.

"I feel like it's all we've done."

We stared into each other's eyes for a few moments before I finally found the courage to utter my next words.

"I don't want to anymore," I whispered.

I wanted nothing more in that moment than to give into desire and let Luca do exactly what he and I both wanted him to.

"Four more days," he said, forcing a smile I assumed was supposed to be reassuring.

I shook my head.

Four more days felt like an eternity.

"I can't wait any longer," I admitted.

My hands slid under his shirt and he stopped me, catching my wrists as he stood up.

"You're asking me to break rules," he said firmly, though I could tell it pained him.

I stood up with him.

I lifted myself onto my tip toes, my nose brushing against his.

Staring into his eyes, my mouth hovered over his as I grabbed his t-shirt to pull his body closer to mine.

"When have you ever cared about rules?" I whispered.

I felt his hand touch my hip and I smiled slightly.

"Help me make a mistake," I begged him.

- - -

Three weeks and three days earlier...

"What you're suggesting is absurd and outdated," Philip argued, defending his stepson.

Luca sat at the head of the table, his elbow propped against the chair's armrest as he twirled a pen between his fingers.

Though he appeared calm and collected, he raged inside.

The thirteen men sitting around the table-not including Bates, Blaine, and Lincoln-were elders he had chosen himself. Accountability and distribution of responsibility had been his reasons for their appointment, but he suddenly remembered why his grandfather hated the idea of a council that held an Alpha responsible: they held the Alpha responsible.

While tradition clearly dictated that an Alpha was to only mate with a woman within his pack, there were no formal consequences for not following it. It was done only because it had been done for generations, many modern packs having abandoned the practice entirely.

Of course they did. Their packs were run by Alphas who made their pack's rules. Who wanted to follow a rule so idiotic?

The thirteen men sitting around that table were not Alphas. They certainly wanted to be-with the exception of Philip-but they were not.

They met their mates and wives and quickly, if not immediately, gratified themselves in their lust. Leaving no stone unturned and no sexual desire unfulfilled, they didn't have to wait.

But they wanted him to.

The meeting ended with arguments being made on both sides. Luca, having remained quiet for the duration of the meeting, stood up and made eye contact with his stepfather.

Philip immediately understood the look Luca gave him. He had raised Luca. He recognized the mischievous glint in his eyes all too well.

Philip knew the surest way to make sure Luca did something was to tell him not to.

As the elders dispersed up the stairs, out of the concrete basement of the meeting house, Blaine walked over to where Luca stood.

"I don't know why they're enforcing this," Blaine said honestly. "I think they just want you to suffer."

Luca surprised him by giving him a smile.

"Don't worry about me," he assured him. "I'll do what I want, when I fucking want to."

Luca meant every word.

He'd make love to that woman when she asked him to.

And he wouldn't wait a second longer than that.

- - -

Hellooo! It's been three days but it feels like a week, haha

Hope you all enjoyed the extra-long chapter! Don't forget to comment your thoughts and vote if you did!

I'll see you tomorrow morning for a very interesting chapter ;)

Bye-bye, butterflies!

MaybeManhattan .x