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To Miranda’s left, also smiling at Delilah, was the same tall red-haired alpha she had met at the grocery store and the same muscular beta who’d approached her at the streetlight. She began to run, but Miranda was too quick. How was Miranda so quick?
“What are you doing?” Delilah screamed as Miranda blocked the front door. “Let me out!”
“I’m sorry, Delilah,” Miranda frowned with her apology. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I don’t want to hurt you! Just get out of the way!”
“Delilah, stop and think for a second.”
“No!”
“These men are here to help you!”
In desperation, Delilah flung herself at Miranda, trying to escape. She knew the impact could harm Miranda, as fast and strong as Delilah was, but she had to try to get out.
But Miranda caught Delilah, using her own weight to throw her aside. Delilah crashed to the floor, barely missing a diner table and scraping herself on the tile. “I’m sorry, Delilah,” Miranda continued blocking the door but showed sincere remorse. “I’m so sorry.”
“Whatareyou?” Delilah cried from her vantage point on the floor.
“The full moon’s going to be here very soon, and I know you don’t have a plan,” Miranda urged. “Please just hear them out. You can’t be running around in the city by yourself.”
The rational part of Delilah’s brain knew Miranda was right, but the emotional part of her, which still remembered being locked away and sold, resisted ferociously.
The entire time, the alpha and beta at the table just watched. Delilah swore she saw sympathy or pity in their eyes, but she couldn’t trust anything anymore. She had thought many of the men back home were good men too, but they were master manipulators.
“No, Delilah,” Miranda said as Delilah pushed herself up off the tile. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Delilah stood, frozen in place, surveying the situation. She had no viable escape path. She couldn’t make it to the back because the alpha and beta would just block her exit. And Miranda was obstructing the most obvious way out.
“Delilah.” Miranda ducked her head to try to meet her distant expression. “I know you don’t trust them. But can you trust me?”
Nobody seemed to understand that it wasn’t just a switch Delilah could switch off.
“Honey…” Miranda crouched nearby. “I’m not going to leave your side. These men just want to have a few words with you, but I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
“You promise?” Delilah asked, a sob breaking free. “You can’t leave. You just can’t.”
It was like something in Delilah’s mind had reverted to an almost infantile state. Too shaken by the visuals that came crashing back to her on repeat, she could barely think… could barely act. She just remembered being confined and locked away against her will, being manhandled and coerced, told she was a commodity. Her mind spun out of control.
“I promise,” Miranda assured her. “It’s a slow business day anyway. I can call Greg and ask for permission to shut down early. I’m going to move out of the way of the door now, Delilah,” Miranda said. “You’re trusting me to stay with you through everything. And I’m trusting you not to run. Do we have a deal?”
Delilah nodded slowly.
“Do you need me to walk with you?” Miranda asked.
Delilah nodded again. Miranda walked over to her, allowing her to lean on her shoulder, and then gradually led her to a table across the tile floor.
The two shifters sat patiently before her as Miranda led her to a seat, and Delilah crumpled into the chair. She could feel her senses returning, but stray memories still filled her mind, flashing uncontrollably. For her own benefit, she was going to try and trust again. The rational part of her—the part that needed to survive—knew she couldn’t keep living like this.
“We’ve been looking for you for quite a while,” the red-haired shifter spoke first. “Fancy a chat?”
Chapter 9
Jude
Judewatchedinamixture of horror and pity as the girl, whose name was Delilah, was talked down and brought before them. A part of Jude would have rather left her alone, given how much trauma was clearly resurfacing due to their presence.
He hated seeing the girl’s fears take control of her. He would have rather met the charismatic and witty girl he briefly encountered at the stoplight before she ran than this scared defense mechanism she employed.
