A perfect metaphor to describe my own life.
The further I go, the more I want to turn around and leave.
Just stay focused. You know why you’re doing this.
My wolf pushes up against my walls. She’s warning me to turn around, but I can’t. I’ve come this far—there’s no turning back. I throw up some mental blocks to drown her out, but not to cut her off completely. I temporarily lose a part of myself when I shut her out, and that vulnerability is a risk I can’t afford.
A grimy white building finally comes into view. “This must be it,” I mutter.
I pull into the driveway and park the car. Looks like I arrived first. Scanning the area, I note all exits in case this meeting turns south. The road I took is the only way out. Just my luck. Unless I can get a head start, I’ll be trapped.
I blow out my cheeks and lay my head against the headrest. A small laugh bubbles up as I consider how I arrived at this point in my life, where situations like this have become my norm. If someone had asked me a year ago where I saw myself in the future, I couldn’t even have guessed at this outcome. But here I am.
Survival is the only thing keeping me motivated.
Sure, I could’ve given up days, months, or even a year ago, but doing so would mean he wins, and I’m not about to let that happen. I refuse to give him any more power over me.
Fear can be an intense motivator when your life is on the line. Me? I’m using it to accomplish the one thing I know he would never expect: I’m going to leave.
The sound of a car approaching from the distance pulls me from my thoughts. A black sedan sidles closer, then pulls in near me. My wolf and I both go on high alert. This is the first time meeting with this man, so caution is key. I wait a beat to see if he gets out of the car first, but when I catch no movement, it occurs to me that he’s probably doing the same—waiting to see who will make the first move.
Fuck it.
I don’t have all day, so I’d prefer to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mustering up some courage, I reach for the door handle with a shaking hand.
It’s now or never, and never is not an option.
I exit the car and immediately regret my decision. The stench of dirt, mixed with rotting garbage and piss, lingers in the air. My nose scrunches in distaste while I decide if breathing through my mouth would be any better. I hip-bump the door shut and lean against it in an attempt to convey an air of confidence.
The driver’s side door of the black sedan swings open, and an older man emerges. I inhale, trying to catch his scent, but the wind picks that moment to flood my nose again with the putrid smell. The man rounds the back end of my car and comes to a stop a few steps away. His scraggly beard matches his receding salt and pepper hair. He looks unkempt in his ill-fitting suit, which accentuates his bulging belly.
“You Lisa?”
Hearing the fake name I gave him via email sounds weird, but I better get used to it. Soon, Rhayven will be no more.
“Yeah. You Howard?”
“Mm-hmm,” is his only response, as he’s too busy roaming his beady eyes up and down my body. The way he’s looking at me, clearly enjoying the sight, makes me want to punch him in the face.
The wind changes directions, and his scent hits my nose—human. I subtly release a sigh of relief. He’s no threat to me, just an old man doing some sketchy work for a living.
Humans know about us supernaturals. We’ve coexisted in a relatively peaceful environment for years. But I’m not about to clue him in on what I am. There are still groups of humans, and even supernaturals, who feel that one or the other shouldn’t exist.
“The price is $1,500. Go ahead and check them out.” He extends his arm, offering me a manila envelope.
I snatch it from his grip. Inside, I find a birth certificate with the name Claudia Eloise Smith and a matching Social Security card.
“I won’t have any issues with these, will I?”
His eyes narrow like my question offended him, but I ignore his reaction. I’m about to give him a lot of money. The least he can do is assure me that he’s not trying to swindle me.
“You should have no trouble. Been doing this a long time.”
I nod, reaching into my purse for the cash, and place it in his hand. He opens the envelope and does a quick flip-through, checking that I paid him in full.
“Nice doing business with you, Lisa,” he says, turning back to his car.
I stay standing by my car until he’s out of sight. The last thing I want is to give him my back or a chance to follow me. Who the hell knows what type of people he works for? I’m trying to get away from trouble, not bring more into my life.
I hop into my car and head back toward my personal hell, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror just in case. Even with the music turned up, my head is still running at full speed. I peak at the folder lying on the passenger seat, a clear reminder that my birthday is fast approaching. In seven days, I’ll turn twenty-one, and Bryce will claim me as his mate.
It’s not happening.
I won’t allow it to happen.
No one knows about the plan I set in motion six months ago. After the night I confronted him, I retreated inside myself, letting Bryce’s verbal blows and scare tactics chip away at my soul until he almost took things too far again. A shudder rocks me thinking about how he had me cornered—again. If his parents hadn’t come home when they did, I’ve no doubt Bryce would’ve injured me badly.
I decided at that moment that I was tired of being scared and refused to live the rest of my life in such a state. I finally decided that I had enough. That's when I slowly started putting the pieces of my escape together. Running away may sound easy to some, but when your every move is being monitored, simple tasks become daunting.
A pang of guilt stabs me at the thought of leaving Essara and Roland, like it does every time I think about them. They opened their home to me after my parents passed away when I was six. I wasn’t their responsibility, but they did it anyway, without hesitation, and for that, I will forever be grateful. However, when it comes to their son, they are truly blind. They have no idea what kind of a monster sleeps just down the hall from them every night—but I do.
I’ve wanted to say something to Essara and Roland about a hundred times, tell them everything that he’s done to me, to others. Every time I build up the courage, I end up talking myself back down, doubting they’ll even believe me. To Roland, Bryce is the golden child who can do no wrong. To Essara, he’s her only pup, so she’s placed him on a pedestal and indulged him his whole life.
That’s what love does to you: it robs you of the awareness that everyone else has. In the past year, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I walked around with blinders on for a long time.
But I’ve seen firsthand what a vile wolf Bryce can be. The day he becomes Alpha, he will be unstoppable.
Rhayven
The closer I get to pack land, the harder it becomes to ignore the tightness in my chest, the fluttering of my heart, or the crawling under my skin. I hate this part—the part that makes me feel like I’m coming undone. For months, I’ve been living in a constant state of panic, always on edge, waiting for his next move. Sparks dance across the top of my skull, and I know a headache will follow soon.
I make my way up the hill to the Alpha’s house. I once considered this place my home, but not anymore. A home is where you seek solace and safety; I no longer feel those things here. I park but find myself unable to get out.
Bryce paces across the grounds and stops near the bottom porch step. When he catches sight of my car, the corner of his lip turns up into a sinister smirk that has my stomach coiling tighter.
Did he have someone follow me?
Does he know what I’ve been doing?
“Welcome home, babe. I’ve missed you.” He chuckles, sliding his hands into his pockets calmly. The truth lies in his eyes; he enjoys tormenting me. “Mom’s waiting for you. Better hurry up.”
&nbs
p; He heads into the house, but I’m not so quick to follow.
I sit in the car for what feels like an eternity until my hands are no longer trembling and I can peel them off the steering wheel. Gradually, my breathing returns to normal.
I hide the envelope inside my bag—reluctant to take it inside but unwilling to risk leaving it in the car—and enter the house. The huge two-story log cabin could be featured on the cover of a magazine with its modern, sleek design and pops of turquoise and yellow splashed throughout. The bright colors look dull to me; all I can see are dreary greys, which reflect my constant, gloomy mood.
Though Bryce is nowhere to be found as I make my way upstairs toward my room, his scent is everywhere. I cringe, hating the sour taste it leaves on my tongue. I lock my bedroom door and toss my bag on the bed. Looking around my sparse room, I do a quick scan, checking to see if anything seems out of place.
Satisfied, I take the envelope and hide it underneath the loose floorboard in my closet. I scan the contents, making sure that my stash of cash is still there, then cover everything back up. Next, I check the duffle bag, ensuring my clothes and weapons are all untouched.
A knock on my door startles me. “One sec.” Once I feel confident all my secrets are hidden, I open the door.
“How was your trip today?” Essara asks, smiling. She is classically beautiful, with her big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and luscious blonde hair falling down her back.
I open the door wider, allowing her to come in. “Good. I tried on a few options.”
She insisted I buy a dress designed by her friend, who owns a shop in town. I’ve never been big into fashion, but it didn’t feel right to object. Dressing up for the party is the least I could do, considering I’m about to abandon them.
“That’s great. I’m so happy you went to see Serena. Her work is amazing, and I know that whatever dress you pick, you’ll look beautiful.”
Too bad it’s costing me a small fortune. The amount of money I’m about to drop for one night seems like a waste. I’d never bash anyone else for their purchase choices, but three thousand dollars is ridiculous to me. However, I won’t be able to touch the money my parents left behind ever again—avoiding paper trails is a must—so I’ve convinced myself that buying an expensive dress for my birthday is something they’d want me to do.
“I know you voiced, frequently, that you don’t want to go through with this party, but it does mean a lot to Roland and me. Your parents—if they were here—would be so proud of the woman you are becoming. I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to see you and Bryce become mates.”
My insides twist at her words. I wonder how she would react if she knew the only reason I agreed to mate with her son was to protect Kylan and myself?
“Before I forget, I hired a makeup artist and hairstylist for the big day. I want to make sure you look beautiful for your party. Not that you don’t already—I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
The weak smile I force my lips into appeases her. “Thanks. I appreciate everything you guys have done for me. You didn’t have to, and I’ll always be grateful.”
The scent of her oncoming tears, like spring rain, hits my nose. “Honey, we love you as if you were our daughter. We never thought twice about bringing you into our family.” She sniffles and laughs, “Oh goodness, I need to stop being so emotional.”
She pulls me in for a hug. I love you too and will miss you, I want to say. Squeezing her tighter, I imprint this moment into my memory.
She takes my face between her delicate hands. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod, holding back my own tears as they threaten to make an appearance. “I’ll be picking up the dress Saturday morning. I should be back here around noon.”
She kisses my forehead. “That’s perfect, darling. We’ll be ready for you when you get back.”
As soon as the door closes behind her, the tears I’ve been holding back begin to fall. I know I’m doing the right thing—it just sucks to hurt people who don’t deserve it. But I won’t focus on that sacrifice. I can’t afford to.
This nightmare needs to end.
Rhayven
The blaring alarm coming from my phone has my tired, scratchy eyes popping open.
It’s Saturday.
My birthday.
The end of my hell and the start of my freedom.
I hop out of bed and grab my clothes—my go-to outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. Today it's printed with the logo of Asking Alexandria, my favorite band. Throwing my hair into a clip, I complete the look with eyeliner and mascara and head outside.
I dart past Bryce’s room, trying to make as little noise as possible, but I’m not fast enough. I hear his door open, and before I reach the stairs, he grabs my wrist and spins me, backing me up against a wall.
A low, furious growl vibrates in my head. My wolf snaps her jaws, then rams my barriers, wanting out.
Ignore him. I do, I tell her.
“I’ve always loved the smell of your shampoo.”
Note to self: change shampoo brands.
I keep my face blank and my body still. I learned early on that the more I react, the higher the thrill for him. He inhales, and it takes all my composure not to shiver in revulsion when I feel his nose skim up my neck.
“Happy birthday. I hope you're ready for tonight. I know I am.”
He shifts, and that's when I feel his hard length against my belly. Bile rushes to the back of my throat. I swallow hard, trying to keep from throwing up.
“Let me go,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your mate?”
“If you don’t let me go, I’m going to be late picking up my dress. Don’t you want me to look my best tonight?”
He puts his mouth next to my ear. “Keep fighting me. It’s going to be that much sweeter when I break you.”
When the pressure finally lifts from my wrists, I whirl and take the stairs two at a time, rushing to reach my car. Once I leave pack land, the tension in my chest begins to ease, allowing my lungs to fully expand.
I hate that he can see my weakness. If I was stronger, maybe I could stand up to him—or find someone who could help me. I’m desperate for someone to trust, but Bryce has made sure I’m isolated, unable to reach out and share this burden with anyone. If I were to talk, people I love would get hurt. The fear he’s instilled in me with that threat has kept me quiet.
I blow out my cheeks, scrubbing thoughts of Bryce from my mind. The less energy I dedicate to him, the better for my mental health. It’s already hanging on by a thread.
The drive into town goes by quickly, and Serena’s boutique soon comes into view. I pull into a spot out front and head into the shop. A bell chimes as I open the door.
“Coming!” A female voice calls from the back. Making my way to the counter, I see Serena poke her head into the shop.
“Be right with you, Rhayven. I’m just finishing up.”
“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”
At least, that’s what I say out loud. Inside, I feel jittery and more than ready to get this over with. If I hurry, maybe it’ll help the day go by faster.
I stroll around, perusing the inventory. The shop is small but has a surprisingly large number of gowns and accessories on display. There is even a small shoe rack in the back.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Serena says, joining me. “I placed the dresses in a fitting room for you. Let me know which one you decide on, so we can pick out some matching jewelry and shoes.” She smiles, her emerald eyes sparkling.
I return her smile. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.”
She scoffs. “Take your time. Yell if you need help.”
Stepping into the dressing room, I see the gowns I picked out, hanging from hooks. All three choices are simple and modestly cut. After trying them on, I settle on the middle choice, a comfortable floor-length dress. I love how its red skirt fades into bla
ck on the bottom seam. I spin around a few times, checking it out from all angles, then slip it off and proceed to the front of the store.
Serena looks up as I approach. “Figure out which one you like?”
“Yeah, the red and black.” I hand the dresses to her.
“It’ll look amazing with your dark hair. Now, come with me. Let’s get you some accessories.” She claps in excitement.
At least one of us is happy.
I choose simple teardrop-shaped earrings adorned with black beads and a rose, and pick comfortable black pumps to match. My heart’s not in this purchase, but every time I think about putting the outfit back, Essara’s teary eyes pop into my head, swaying my decision.
Serena checks me out, and I thank her again before leaving. There’s one more stop I need to make—the final and most important piece of my plan.
I cross the town line and keep going. I’m heading toward a Wiccan shop I found a few towns over. I spent hours poring over internet articles looking for solutions on how to get away without leaving my scent behind, but that was only half the battle. Finding a witch to put all the ingredients together was a doubly difficult task. Luckily, this Wiccan shop owner was happy to assist, for the right price.
I pull into the parking lot behind the shop and head inside.
“You’re late.”
Sitting behind a counter is the old woman who owns this place. She doesn’t even spare me a glance, her focus fixed on her book.
How did she know it’s me?
Witches are an interesting group of supernaturals. Though they’re ancient and have been around as long as shifters, their kind was viciously hunted by humans for centuries. Over time, their numbers have severely dwindled, as most witches have gone into hiding. A lot of witches these days are half-breeds, barely any magic left in their blood due to centuries of interbreeding with humans and other supernaturals.
The Chase Is On (Pack Everhart Book 1) Page 2
