“Am I going to die?”
Sylvie’s voice was almost a whisper, fragile and trembling, her face pale in the glow of the flickering lamplight. Her small frame looked even smaller in the chair, her wounded shoulder still bleeding freely, crimson seeping through the cloth I hadn’t yet secured. My hands, midway through preparing the bandages, froze. For a heartbeat, I couldn’t find my voice.
Finally, I forced the words out, steadying myself as best I could. “No. You will not die. I swear on everything I have left—I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”
I beckoned her closer, though my chest felt as though it might splinter apart with how tightly it ached. Without hesitation, she moved toward me, silent and obedient. Her back remained straight, her mouth firm, her chin lifted. She didn’t cry—not even with an arrow wound buried in her tender flesh. She had a strength most never noticed, stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for.
I soaked the clean cloth in the herbal brew I had boiled earlier and pressed it against her wound. She flinched, just slightly, but didn’t let a sound escape her lips. My eyes burned, tears threatening to fall, but I blinked hard, refusing to let them come.
“They won’t stop,” I murmured bitterly, hands working against the bleeding. “Not until they’ve destroyed you completely… or destroyed me.”
The silence stretched between us, weighted and suffocating. I finished wrapping the cloth tightly around her shoulder, then lifted my gaze to meet hers. My decision was carved into my bones.
“We’re leaving this place,” I said.
Her head snapped up. “We are?”
“Yes,” I answered firmly. “When the house finally sleeps, when every fire has gone out—we’ll go. I can’t endure this anymore. I won’t let you be hurt again. If I have to become a rogue, hunted and unwanted, just to protect you—then that’s what I’ll do.”
She went still for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she reached out and took my hand in her small one.
“I don’t care about any of that,” she whispered. “As long as you aren’t the one suffering for me.”
My resolve nearly shattered. Emotion swelled inside me until I thought I might break apart. Tears blurred my vision as I pressed her hand against my lips. I didn’t deserve a daughter like her. But I would shield her with everything left inside me, no matter the cost. I finished tying the bandage more carefully, my voice shaking as I whispered our plan between ragged breaths.
“We’ll wait until the night is silent. We’ll take only what’s necessary. And then we’ll run—farther than they could ever chase. It’ll just be you and me, Sylvie. Always.”
She nodded, and I thought—just for an instant—that her eyes shone with a strange, determined light. But in my focus, I failed to notice the shadow lurking nearby. Haley had been hidden close enough to hear every word. And before long, she slipped away, running straight to Rowan to betray our escape.
When I finished tending Sylvie, I moved like a shadow myself through the hallways, every step calculated and quiet. I gathered only what was essential: small things I had carried from my old pack, supplies we couldn’t do without. I dressed Sylvie warmly, wrapped her close against me, her cheek pressed against my chest. She didn’t utter a word. Together, we waited, listening as the laughter of the banquet dwindled and the last of the flames sank into ash.
At last, we slipped into the night.
We had barely taken three steps past the rear gate when a voice shattered the quiet.
“You weren’t truly planning on leaving without saying farewell, were you?”
Rowan stood in the shadows ahead, arms folded, his figure broad and immovable. Flanking him were two massive Alpha warriors, towering like walls of stone. His expression carried that same cruel amusement he always wore when he thought he had already won.
“You may leave if you wish, Lyra,” Rowan said slowly, his voice mocking. “But she remains here.”
I drew Sylvie closer against me, fingers tightening on the pouch hidden beneath my coat.
“I already made this clear, didn’t I?” he continued, his tone edged with steel. “If you want freedom, take it. But the girl—she belongs to this pack. She does not belong to you.”
“And what then?” I shot back, my voice sharp. “Leave her here so she can be tormented, humiliated, treated like prey for your cruel children? I will not stand by and let that happen again. I am taking her with me.” My eyes locked onto his. “Even if it means protecting her from you.”
The very air seemed to tighten. Tension coiled around us like a storm ready to break.
“This is the final warning I’ll give,” Rowan said coldly. “Stay, and you may remain with her. Leave, and you abandon her to me.”
I lowered my gaze to Sylvie. She clung to me, her trust absolute, her silence louder than any scream. When I lifted my eyes back to Rowan, I saw only the arrogance that had always lived in him. He was certain I would bend, certain I would never risk losing Sylvie. He believed he had already won.
When I didn’t move, he gestured sharply to his warriors. “Seize the child.”
But I was quicker.
I hurled the powder from my pouch into the air. It burst in a pale, stinging cloud. The warriors recoiled, hands clawing at their burning eyes as their skin blistered red. Rowan himself roared as the powder seared him, but I wasted no time watching.
I ran.
Branches whipped across my arms as I sprinted into the trees, Sylvie clutched to me. The air cut like knives against my face, the earth pounding beneath my boots. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. Still, I pushed forward. Behind us, the howls of pursuit rang out—Rowan’s command carrying through the night. His men were fast.
But desperation made me faster.
We flew across the outer fields, the scent of the border wall growing stronger with every stride. I didn’t falter, not when wild wolves prowled nearby, not even when I nearly stumbled into pits alive with venomous snakes. None of it mattered. All that mattered was distance.
At last, the trees broke—and I stumbled to a halt at the edge of a high cliff. The ground crumbled beneath my boots. Below stretched only blackness, a drop so sheer and endless no one would survive. A cold wind screamed upward, tugging at my hair and clothes. My chest tightened with dread.
Then the crunch of branches behind me.
Rowan emerged from the treeline, his face streaked and bruised from the powder, his expression still composed though fury burned in his eyes.
“This is it,” he said, voice low and lethal. “Your final chance. Bow your head. Beg forgiveness. Return with me, and I’ll pardon every foolish choice you’ve made tonight.”
I hugged Sylvie closer, her small heartbeat fluttering against my chest. My gaze fixed on him. Once, I had loved this man. Once, I had believed he would protect me. That bond—even without the Elders’ blessing—had chained me to him, convinced me to stay. But love had blinded me. He had betrayed me too many times.
“No,” I said firmly.
And with that final word, I turned away from him and stepped off the cliff.
