Their Secret Obsession (A Reverse Harem) by Pippa Moon novel Chapter 275

Lottie POV

Sitting on the sofa, I tried to focus on Chase's words, but they seemed to drift past me like a distant echo. Confusion swirled in my mind like a thick fog. How did I end up downstairs? One moment, I was in bed, and the next, I was in the kitchen with Kane. The memories were hazy and fragmented. Why could I only recall from the moment Chase burst in? None of it made sense.

I felt as if someone was playing a cruel trick on me. For a fleeting moment, I even suspected Chase. But when he scolded me, the raw concern in his eyes told me otherwise. Deep down, I knew what I'd said to him was unfair. He was just trying to protect me. Yet, an overwhelming sense of loneliness pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Standing up abruptly, I shook my head.

"You're not helping," I uttered, my voice barely above a whisper. The room felt stifling, and I needed to escape, to clear my head.

"Lottie, wait," Chase pleaded, his eyes reflecting a pain that mirrored my own. "I can't lose you."

I paused, the weight of his words hanging heavily between us. I could hear the sadness trembling in his voice, and for a moment, I considered lashing out to tell him he already had. But I swallowed the bitter words. Despite everything, I loved my brother. Hurting him wouldn't ease my own pain.

"I'll just be in the library," I said softly, trying to steady my voice. "I need some space, Chase. This was my home. I grew up here. No one is going to hurt me. I carry the Alpha's grandbabies—it would be... unthinkable for anyone to try." Although true, the words felt like ash in my mouth; I might carry the twin's pups and his grand pups, but really, what effort had he made to reach out to me? None. Chase studied me for a moment, the conflict evident in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

"I'll be here if you need me," he called out as I turned away. I walked down the dimly lit hallway, the familiar creaks of the old floorboards echoing beneath my feet. The house was quiet, the silence only broken by the distant ticking of a grandfather clock. As I passed by a doorway, a cool draft brushed against my skin, causing me to shiver. I paused, glancing toward the slightly ajar door leading to the basement.

"What is that?" I asked the cold night air as an inexplicable pull tugged at me. Something about the darkness beyond the door beckoned, stirring a curiosity I couldn't ignore.

"Keep walking," Sage urged softly in my mind, her voice laced with unease. "There's nothing down there for us."

"But what if there is?" I countered. "I feel... I don't know, compelled."

"Sometimes, things are better left alone," she cautioned nervously. I hesitated, but the faintest sound—a muffled whimper—reached my ears. My heart skipped a beat. Was someone down there? The thought of anyone suffering in silence spurred me into action.

Ignoring Sage's protest, I pushed the door open wider. A musty scent wafted up from the depths, tinged with something foul—an undercurrent of decay that made my stomach churn. Carefully, I began my descent, each step creaking underfoot.

The basement was just as I remembered it: a sprawling space with low ceilings and walls lined with old shelves cluttered with forgotten items. Reaching for the light switch, I flicked it on, and fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, casting a stark white glow that banished the shadows.

My eyes widened in horror as the space opened up into a small chamber. Chains dangled from the ceiling, and suspended from them was a figure—gaunt and motionless. The person hung limply, wrists bound above their head, feet barely touching the ground.

"Dear goddess," I whispered, fear gripping my heart.

I approached cautiously, my footsteps echoing softly. As I drew nearer, I could make out more details. The figure was a young male, his clothes torn and dirty, skin pale and bruised. His hair hung in matted clumps around his face, obscuring his features.

"Hello?" I called out gently. "Can you hear me?"

A faint stir—a barely perceptible movement. Then, a weak moan escaped his lips. I hurried forward, instinct overriding fear.

"It's okay, I'm here to help," I assured him. Reaching up, I examined the chains. They were secured with heavy locks, the metal cold and unyielding.

"Sage, what do I do?" I asked frantically as I moved to face the figure.