Page 6

Sure, there’s probably more guards now that Father is home, but I can be fast when I need to be.

If I’m quiet and stick to the shadows until I reach the backyard, I can escape into the hedge maze. My balcony overlooks the maze, and I memorized the path years ago. I know how to make it through.

With hesitant movements, I turn toward the door, the plan solidifying.

I still have my bag. I still have a few hours of daylight. Father’s in a meeting, which gives me more time.

If I leave now⁠—

The sound of someone clearing their voice behind me makes me jump. I spin, knowing I’m caught.

If it’s my father, he may actually kill me for not obeying his orders to go directly upstairs.

It’s not my father, but it may as well be. Leaning against the wall, one of his guards stares back at me with a knowing gleam.

“I believe Mr. Varenthrall wanted you upstairs.” His flat tone doesn’t hide the excitement in his eyes.

I don’t recognize him, but that’s not shocking. So few stay long term.

They’re contracted, a contingent of Alpha and Beta humans my father hires to run home security and act as protection detail when he attends meetings in the city. All of his men are dangerous, and even Betas like this guard fill me with dread. Just because they’re smaller than the Alphas doesn’t mean they’re safe.

After all, they’re all larger than me.

And they’re all loyal to my father.

I don’t consider hoping this guard will look the other way. None of them have ever helped me, not even when I screamed until my voice gave out.

I learned that the hard way when Father forced me to the basement⁠—

No. Do not think about that. Not right now.

Wrapping my fingers tightly around the strap of my backpack, I ignore the guard and make my way up the stairs and into my room. The whole way, I have to force myself to stay calm and think.

Once I’m back in my room I exhale, closing the double doors behind me and wishing for the millionth time that I had a lock.

It won’t keep out my father, but my instincts don’t care. They crave the feeling of safety, and a lock would help soothe them even if I know logically that it wouldn’t keep me safe.

My backpack lands on the floor with a pathetic thud. I ignore it, kicking off my sneakers and padding across the room to my bed.

I fall onto the mattress, curl into a small ball, and let myself break.

I failed.

I failed to escape, and now my father knows I was trying to leave.

The tears come fast and hard, my body shaking with great heaving sobs as I cry silently into my pillow. It’s been so long since I’ve cried, but I don’t hold anything back. I let it pour out of me in an endless wave of fear and sadness that’s so overwhelming I struggle to breathe.

I’ve faced a dozen beatings over the years. Pain has become another part of life. Something to be endured in silence. The thought of more blood and bruises isn’t responsible for the terror thrumming through my veins.

No, pain won’t break me. Not now. Not after being beaten down to nothing by my own blood over the last decade.

The idea of being sold, though…

That’s what has my stomach clenching and bile surging up my throat.

Who does he plan on selling me to? I mean, Alexander seems more like a middleman than a buyer.

Not that I have experience with either.