(Hope's P.O.V.)
The grandfather clock's persistent ticking echoes through my small room.
11 P.M.
Now or never.
I sling my makeshift satchel—a blanket folded and stitched with trembling hands over countless sleepless nights—across my shoulder. Inside lies everything I own: three threadbare shirts, two pairs of pants, a worn jacket, and the small wooden wolf figurine my mother gave me before she died. Not much for starting a new life, but more than I had when I first arrived at this cursed place.
The Moonshade territory lies shrouded in darkness, perfect for disappearing. I'd planned meticulously, choosing tonight when the moon hides behind thick clouds. I expected empty streets, guards half-asleep at their posts.
I was painfully mistaken.
Pack members mill about everywhere, their shadows stretching across the dirt paths like grasping fingers. Why tonight of all nights? My heart hammers against my ribs as I tug my hood lower, concealing the fading bruises along my collarbone—souvenirs from Victor's last visit.
The guard rotation happens at this hour. Dmitri, a mountain of muscle with the intellect of a pebble, should be taking his post at the eastern gate. He barely glances at passes, too busy boasting about his hunting prowess to whoever will listen. The forged document burning a hole in my pocket should fool him easily enough.
I'd traded my silver bracelet—the last gift from my grandmother—to an ancient woman who lived at the market's edge for this counterfeit pass. Her rheumy eyes had studied me with unexpected clarity.
"This will set you free," she'd whispered, pressing the paper into my palm. "But remember, child, freedom has many prices."
Freedom. The word tastes foreign on my tongue after three years of captivity.
What future awaits an Omega without a wolf spirit in the Moonshade Pack? None. I would have been torn apart by rogues long ago if I hadn't attached myself to Alpha Victor. But his "protection" came with unbearable costs.
He took everything—my dignity, my autonomy, my hope. Used my body whenever he pleased, his calloused hands leaving trails of fire across my skin. Discarded me afterward like a soiled napkin, still smelling of his bergamot cologne and sweat. Kept me locked away until the walls themselves seemed to mock my imprisonment.
Now he's found his true mate. I refuse to stay and become his dirty secret, his shameful indulgence hidden behind closed doors.
Almost there...
The eastern gate appears through the mist, its iron bars resembling teeth in the mouth of some great beast. Two guards flank it, while a third checks documents at a small wooden table.
I join the short line, standing behind a burly hunter preparing for a night expedition. My fingers twist nervously in the fabric of my cloak as I inch forward, the rough wool chafing against thighs still tender from last week's encounter.
My blood freezes in my veins when I recognize the guard checking passes.
Not Dmitri.
Xavier.
The Elder's shrewd eyes miss nothing. His reputation for detecting forgeries is legendary throughout the territory. Alpha Victor appointed him specifically to prevent unauthorized departures.
I need to leave. Now.
I pivot to retreat when his gravelly voice cuts through the night air. "You there! Stop!"
My muscles lock in place. Running would only confirm my guilt, bringing the pack's warriors down upon me in seconds.
"Your pass," Xavier demands, extending a gnarled hand.
I approach slowly, keeping my face hidden beneath my hood. "I—I've changed my mind. I'll return tomorrow when it's light."
Curse my stammering voice. Xavier's eyes narrow, lingering on the pulse fluttering at my throat. "Documents," he repeats, impatience hardening his tone. "Pack rules. No exceptions."
My trembling fingers extract the forged pass. The paper feels impossibly thin, as if Xavier could see through its deception with a single glance.
He studies it carefully, turning it over in his hands. "Hmm..."
My gaze darts to the gate. Two warriors stand at attention, their postures relaxed but alert. If I time it perfectly...
One...
Two...
"Here's your pa—"
Three!
I bolt toward the gate, not waiting for Xavier to finish. Freedom lies just beyond those iron bars. Just a few more steps—
Strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off the ground as easily as a child's doll.
"NO!" I thrash wildly, my hood falling back to reveal the cascade of auburn hair Victor once fisted in his hands while whispering filth against my neck.
"LET ME GO!" My screams echo through the night, drawing curious stares from nearby pack members.
Xavier approaches slowly, recognition dawning in his eyes. "The Alpha's pet," he mutters, lips curling into a smirk.
I glare at him with pure hatred. So close. I was so close.
"You know," Xavier chuckles, "I was about to return your pass. It looked legitimate enough. But then you ran." He shakes his head. "Not very bright, are you? Did you really think those scrawny legs could outrun Moonshade warriors?"
My stomach plummets. The pass would have worked. My own panic betrayed me.
"What's happening here?"
The deep voice sends ice through my veins. Preston, Victor's Beta, materializes from the shadows like a nightmare given form. His emotionless eyes assess the situation in seconds, lingering on the way my borrowed shirt gapes open at the collar.
Xavier straightens. "Attempted escape. We caught her."
Preston's gaze locks onto mine, and I renew my struggles against the guard's iron grip.
"No! Please! Let me go!"
My pleas fall on deaf ears as Preston approaches. He takes my arm from the guard, his grip firm enough to leave crescent indents in my flesh.
"Don't fight," he says quietly. "You'll only hurt yourself."
Exhaustion crashes over me. It's over. I've failed.
Preston leads me back toward the pack house, his stride unhurried, as if escorting a wayward child rather than a desperate prisoner. The scent of pine and musk clings to him—a stark contrast to Victor's oppressive bergamot.
At the mansion's entrance, I dig in my heels. "P-Please," I whisper. "Just let me leave. I won't cause trouble. I'll disappear."
His expression remains impassive, but something flickers in his eyes—pity, perhaps. It vanishes quickly.
"The Alpha is waiting," he says simply, guiding me through the ornate doors and down the hallway to Victor's office.
"Sir," Preston announces, leaving me alone with the monster who owns me.
Victor sits behind his massive desk, a predatory smile playing across his handsome face. The room smells of expensive cologne and barely contained rage. My traitorous body remembers the heat of his palms sliding up my thighs on this very desk.
"Welcome home, Hope."
(Victor's P.O.V.)
The scent of her fear permeates my office—sweet, intoxicating. I watch her tremble before me, this fragile creature who dared defy me. The lamplight catches the sweat beading between her breasts, the rapid rise and fall of her chest fueling the beast within.
She attempted to flee her gilded cage for what? The harsh world beyond our borders would devour her within days. Though perhaps I've been too lenient—allowed too much freedom between the times I pinned her beneath me, her breathy whimpers music to my ears.
"J-Just let me go," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I raise an eyebrow at her tone. Not pleading, but commanding. This Omega—this human without even a wolf spirit—presumes to give orders to me?
Fascinating.
I set down my fountain pen and rise from my chair. She retreats instinctively, backing away until she presses against the door, the movement causing her threadbare shirt to slip off one shoulder. My mark still blooms there, purple and angry from three nights past.
"I'm afraid that's impossible, Hope."
Her fear transforms into defiance, those remarkable eyes hardening into a glare that would make lesser men flinch. How many times had those same eyes glazed over with reluctant pleasure as I mapped every inch of her with teeth and tongue?
"What more could you possibly want from me?" Her voice rises, filling the room. "You've taken everything! My freedom, my dignity, my future! There's nothing left!"
I approach her slowly, savoring her mounting panic. She presses herself against the door as if hoping to melt through it, the rapid flutter of her pulse calling to the predator within.
"Why did you run?" I ask, my voice deceptively calm.
Hope meets my gaze directly—a privilege I allow no one else in my pack. Not Preston, not my warriors, not even the Elders. Yet this Omega looks into my eyes without hesitation.
It's... refreshing.
"I deserve a life," she says. "You found your mate. You're getting married. I refuse to be your dirty secret, your mistress hidden away while you play the devoted mate in public."
My jaw tightens. Her audacity never fails to astonish me. I crowd her against the door, our bodies separated by mere inches. "Have you forgotten who approached whom?" I grasp her arm, squeezing until she winces. "You came to me, Hope. Spread your pretty legs and begged for protection."
She struggles against my grip. "I approached you because I was being hunted by your pack members! I needed shelter and status to survive here. Do you honestly believe I wanted to be with someone like you?"
Her words strike like a physical blow. This worthless Omega suggests she merely used me? That she manipulated the Alpha of the Moonshade Pack?
"I want a real life, Victor," she continues, her voice breaking. "I've suffered enough. I want freedom... I want someone who actually loves me."
Something dark and possessive roars within me. My fist connects with the doorframe beside her head, splintering wood. "Love?" I snarl, my breath hot against her ear. "You think any man would take used goods? That they'd want my leavings?"
Her choked sob fuels my rage. I feel something fall from my pocket, but ignore it, consumed by the need to reclaim what's mine.
My hand closes around her throat. She chokes, eyes widening in terror as I press my hardening length against her hip.
"V-Victor! Please!"
I force her to the floor, my grip tightening. "You belong to me," I growl, tearing at her clothes with my free hand. The rip of fabric echoes through the room, exposing pale skin still bearing the evidence of my last visit. "Every gasp. Every moan. Every fucking heartbeat. Mine."
Her tears and pleas fall on deaf ears as I prepare to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
