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I want my freedom.
That's what Cynthia meant. She wanted me to free her from the blood debt. And if Norman became the alpha, then…
I know enough about Cynthia to know she would rather kill herself than face whatever Norman has in store for her. He will never give her her freedom. Which means I can never let Norman become the alpha.
When the call ends, both Robert and I are silent.
"What now?" Robert asks.
I steeple my fingers together. "We need to figure out a way to get Norman discredited from this nomination as the alpha heir position before he gets the chance to show the idea for the slums rehabilitation project. We need to get that phone, but Norman has completely disappeared from the public eye since he was discharged from the infirmary."
"He must be at home," Robert muses. "We could launch an attack, but it's going to have dire consequences. Cynthia's idea was the simplest and easiest. She goes in there and comes out with the phone."
"I'm not sending her in there, Robert!" My upper lip curls in anger.
"I don't like the idea any more than you do," Robert argues, "but if you or I go in there, my being there can start a war between our packs and you risk losing your status as the alpha heir. She is our only way in."
Just then, my phone rings, and I look down. On seeing the name of the person who's been avoiding me for days, I don't waste any time in answering the phone.
"Cynthia. Where have you––"
Her voice is hoarse. "I have the phone. There's something you need to see."
CHAPTER 17
Cynthia
I drag myself up the steps, my teeth sinking into my lower lip to swallow the gasps of agony.
It's past midnight here, and everybody is in bed. After two days of beating me black and blue, Jonathon should be dead tired. My left leg is broken, and I pull myself up the steps, my belongings clenched in my other hand. Norman is in his room, and he's the one I'm most scared of right now. If he finds me trying to escape, it's over for me.
I just have to make it to the front door and then I can call Tony.
I know he's near the house. Right now, I don't know if he will help me, but he's been kind to me recently, and I want to believe he will. I'm just going on faith here.
I see the phone as I grip the wall of the living room and pull myself to my feet, forcing all my weight on my right leg. It's on the kitchen counter, right next to a bright red laptop that I recognize.
"…leaving now. There had better be some bitches there, Ricky. Someone needs to suck me off."
Norman's voice has me ducking into the kitchen and quickly flicking the light switch to shroud the room in darkness. His footsteps pound on the steps, and he walks right past the kitchenentrance. The entrance is U-shaped with two walls extending on each side. I'm curled up on the ground, on the inside part of the wall, hoping he doesn't smell my blood. Fortunately, Norman just walks out the front door, and a few minutes later, I hear the sound of his car roaring away.
Blinking rapidly, my heart racing, I pull myself to my feet. A gasp of pain slips out as my back rubs against the wall. My left arm isn't functioning too well, either. I must have dislocated my shoulder at some point. My chest hurts, and it's hard to breathe right now. Taking the laptop will be more noticeable, but my escape will put me in just as much danger. I drag myself to the counter and, using my functioning hand, I first use my phone to call Tony.
"Pick me up at the main entrance of the house," I say hoarsely. "Hurry. Please."
Once that is done, I look around. I can't possibly carry everything with me. I've just got one hand. I search for a bag or something and find a paper bag belonging to some branded store. Reaching for it, I stuff the laptop, Norman's phone, and my own, along with my wallet inside. I don't know how I get to the front door, but it seems like a never-ending journey to hell, each step making me want to scream in agony.
Tony is waiting outside in the car, and after one look at me, he's out of the car. "What happened?"
"What do you think?" I mumble weakly. "L-Let's go. Please, before they wake up."
"Wait," Tony stops me, alarmed. "Are you running away?"
I stare at him, my heart in my mouth. "You want me to stay? Why? So he finally kills me?"
"That's not what I mean––"
"I've been starved and tortured, Tony." I'm so dehydrated that even the tears don't come out. "Jonathon lost his shit. My left kneecap is shattered. My leg is broken. I can't move my left arm either. Do you want me to go back in there and let him do something else to me?"
