My body ached, but it was the chilling finality in Selena's voice that froze the marrow in my bones. Get rid of her. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a promise.
Damien's face remained an unreadable mask. He gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod to Selena, a gesture that sent a shard of ice through my heart. He was agreeing with her. He wanted me gone. He turned and continued down the stairs without a backward glance, leaving me on the floor like a piece of discarded trash.
It was Lyra who rushed to my side, her old face pale with terror. Under the guise of checking my injuries, she whispered frantically into my ear, "Tonight. You must leave tonight, child. She will not wait."
She helped me back to my small, bleak room, her movements hurried and filled with a desperate urgency. "I have prepared a bundle for you," she said, pulling a packed leather satchel from beneath my cot. "Food, water, and a small purse of coins. It's not much, but it will have to do." She pressed the Moon Crest, still attached to its leather thong, into my hand. "Do not take this off for any reason. It is the only thing that might hide you."
I was trembling, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me from the fall and the sheer terror. "Where do I go?"
"The map," she said, pointing to the satchel. "It leads north, through the Howling Peaks. It is a dangerous journey, but it is the only path they will not expect you to take. Go now. Go before she has time to act."
My heart hammered against my ribs. This was real. This was happening. I was about to become a fugitive, running for my life and the life of my unborn child. I took the satchel, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it.
As I was about to slip out the small window that faced the woods, a shadow fell across the doorway. We both froze. It was one of Damien's guards—a hulking wolf named Marcus, known for his unwavering loyalty to the Alpha. He looked agitated, his eyes darting nervously down the empty corridor before focusing on Lyra.
He didn't seem to notice me huddled in the corner. He spoke in a low, rushed whisper, a voice not meant to be overheard.
"Lyra," he breathed, his voice tight with urgency. "I have a message, directly from the Alpha. He knows Selena will act tonight."
My blood ran cold. He knew.
I shrank further into the shadows, straining to hear every word, my entire world narrowing to the hushed conversation in the doorway.
"He can't intervene directly," Marcus whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It would expose everything. So he needs you to get her out of here before the moon sets. I am to watch Selena's movements, to buy you time." He leaned closer, and his next words were the ones that stopped my heart.
The ones I would never forget.
"But if you can't get her out," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly, serious tone, "the Alpha's direct orders are clear... we are to stage an accident in the woods. He said to make it look clean. No witnesses."
The world tilted and went silent.
Alpha's direct orders... accident in the woods... make it look clean.
The words echoed in the sudden, roaring void of my mind. It wasn't just Selena. It was him. It had always been him. The humiliation, the servitude... it was all just a game to him. Now, the game was over, and he was ready to discard his broken toy. That flicker of rage I thought I saw in his eyes earlier? It wasn't for me. It must have been anger at Selena for almost revealing their plan prematurely.
He wanted me dead.
He had personally ordered my assassination.
A strange, terrifying calm washed over me, displacing the fear. It was the cold, quiet clarity that comes when you have absolutely nothing left to lose. The last, foolish ember of hope in my heart—the one that whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was suffering too—was finally extinguished, smothered by the icy reality of his betrayal.
Lyra was nodding, her face grim, understanding the message. Marcus gave one last, worried glance down the hall and then disappeared as silently as he had come.
Lyra turned to me, her eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Child, you heard. There is no time. You must go!"
I met her gaze, but my own eyes were different now. The tears were gone. The terror was gone. All that was left was a core of pure, unadulterated hatred, as hard and as cold as a diamond.
"Yes," I said, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "I understand everything now."
I didn't say goodbye. I didn't look back. I slipped out the window and melted into the oppressive darkness of the forest, the satchel clutched in my hand. I was no longer a frightened girl running from a cruel bully. I was a mother running from her own mate, who had just signed her death warrant.
The brand on my wrist burned, a physical manifestation of his treachery. I ran, fueled now by a singular, burning purpose. It was no longer just about survival. It was about vengeance.
Tears I didn't know I had left finally began to stream down my face, hot and furious in the cold night air.
He wants to kill me, I thought, the words a silent scream in my soul. He wants to kill me and our child.
The promise I'd made to myself in the darkness of my room felt like a lifetime ago. It was no longer enough to simply get us out of there.
I will never, ever forgive you, Damien Blackwood, I vowed to the uncaring moon. I will survive. And I will spend every day of the rest of my life praying for the chance to make you feel even a fraction of this pain.