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For so long, I was kept captive in his house. I had no identity or autonomy. Even as fearful as I’ve been during my time here, I’ve never felt as scared as I was living under Clint’s roof. I’ve tasted the possibility of freedom and the possibility of finally being my own person, and I absolutely refuse to give that up. I refuse to be my uncle’s captive any longer.
But I refuse to be a captive here either.
I can’t stay.
I jam my feet into my shoes—which Ridge has left by the door—and then race toward the kitchen, my laces trailing on the ground. I slam through the back door and out into the tiny backyard, veering away from the garden shed and toward the dark line of forest beyond the dead end road. The same escape route I tried and failed to take last time.
The men out front are speaking in loud voices, and I cringe as I halt by the edge of the road and look around for anybody who might see me sneaking away.
A small part of me knows this is asinine. Ridge doesn’t want to hurt me. He promised he’d keep me safe, and his cabin is definitely preferable to a cave in the wild.
But I think of that group of furious people barreling into his living room and the new men I saw striding past his cabin. I think of the way that wolf’s teeth glinted as it growled. I think of how fucking out of my depth I am in all of this, how outnumbered and vulnerable I am here, and my fear ramps into unnatural, uncontrollable, completely illogical territory.
I see nobody, so I fall into a sprint, one hand wrapped around the waistband of Ridge’s shorts to keep them from falling off as I hurry toward the forest. Too late now to go back and find my own clothes, which are likely clean in Ridge’s laundry room because he’s just so damn kind.
I don’t have time for going back. I have to move forward. I have to be free.
The woods beckon like a shadow beacon of hope. I’m nearing the edge of the road, about to leap off the flat dirt and into the grass, when a hand like iron wraps around my bicep and yanks me back.
I let out a squeaky yelp as my body comes to a vicious halt before I’m jerked back onto the road. Everything whirls around me as I’m yanked around, and then suddenly, the man called Lawson is looming over me, his fingers cutting off circulation in my arm.
Terror makes my legs weak, and I collapse to the dirt on my knees, dangling from his grip.
He glares at me, looking every bit as intimidating as when he challenged Ridge yesterday.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted, you fucking liar,” he spits, giving me a shake that rattles the fillings in my teeth. “You spying on us? About to run back to your little coven and tell them our secrets?”
“P-please. Please let me go.” My words come out small and shaky, wobbly from the force of his shaking, and I try to pull away from his rock-hard grip.
His eyes narrow. This man is the complete opposite of Ridge, with dusky blond hair and blue eyes. He has a face that would be attractive if it weren’t filled with so much vicious anger, and he’s the size of a small house. I swear he’s channeling the strength of ten men in his grasp on my arm.
“No, I don’t think I will.” He scowls. “I think the council needs to meet you. I think you need to be made an example of to all your bitch, wolf-hating friends.”
“Please.” My voice is hardly more than a breath, and I feel a rush of shame at how terrified and tearful I sound. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m leaving. I just want to go.”
He sneers. “Yeah? Tell that to your executioners.”
Without another word, Lawson literally drags me through the village by my arm as my legs scrape uselessly against the ground. Thank God the roads aren’t concrete, and only dust and gravel grates on my bare skin, but the pain still brings tears to my eyes. He’s moving too fast for me to get my feet beneath me, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I struggle against his hold.
By the time we reach a metal barn on the outskirts of the village, I’m sobbing. His grip has made my arm numb, and I’m almost certain he’s wrenched it hard enough to pull muscles and ligaments. I’m wishing I never left Ridge’s house, that I’d been smart enough to stay put and keep out of sight.
If Lawson has his way, I’ll be lynched on sight.
He slams open the door to the barn with more force than necessary, and I yank against his hold in a last-ditch, desperate effort to get away. His other hand sinks into my hair and he grabs a handful, dragging me by the roots into a large open space rimmed by astonished faces.
We reach the central area, and Lawson throws me onto the concrete floor. I slam into the ground, barely keeping my head from making contact with the concrete as a hoarse cry falls from my lips.
The room is silent. Dozens of faces stare at me, just as surprised at my arrival as I am.
Shifters, I realize with another wave of terror. I’m surrounded by shifters.
Nobody moves, nobody even seems to breathe, and all I can hear is the rushing in my ears and the unnatural pounding in my chest.
Today is the day I die. After everything Uncle Clint did to me, I never thought it would end like this.
10
Trystan
