But Patrick doesn’t give me the chance to execute it.
Something must tip him off, because his eyes have barely left me all morning. When I step outside to use the outhouse behind the cabin, he’s watching the door when I return. A casual wander toward the window to gaze out at the forest brings him to my shoulder like a ghost.
“Beautiful morning,” he comments so casually.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“The fog is starting to lift a bit. Might be able to see some sun later.”
“Fascinating.”
My sarcasm doesn’t get a reaction. He just nods like I’ve said something meaningful and takes a seat on one of the wooden chairs. His jacket comes out along with a small sewing kit from the pack, and he starts mending a tear in the sleeve with his attention seemingly focused on the task.
But I know damn well he’s watching my every move.
The next hour passes in agonizing slowness. Wandering around the cabin gives me something to do while I pretend to be bored and search for the perfect moment to bolt. The supplies on the table get straightened, then rearranged, then straightened again. Poking at the fire kills a few minutes. Those rusted pots on the shelf become the most fascinating objects I’ve ever encountered as I examine them from every angle.
Patrick watches it all without comment as his needle moves steadily through the fabric of his jacket.
My opportunity finally comes around midday, when he steps into the back corner to grab something from the supply pack. It’s only a few seconds of distraction, but I take it.
The door flies open as I bolt through it. My feet hit the porch, and I’m about to launch myself toward the tree line when strong arms wrap around my waist and haul me backward.
A snarl tears from my throat as I thrash against his grip. “Let go of me!”
Patrick doesn’t release me. His arms become iron bands around my middle as he holds me against his chest and waits for me to stop struggling. My kicks find his shins, my nails claw at his forearms, and my head flies back, hoping to catch his chin. None of it works. He’s too strong and too fast, and he absorbs every blow without loosening his hold even a fraction.
“Please.” His voice sounds so weary that something twists in my stomach. “Please stop making me chase you.”
“Then let me go!”
“I can’t do that, Caelan. Thornridge will find you if I let you go. They’re still out there searching, and you won’t make it ten miles before they pick up your trail.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that, because I helped train the wolves they’ll send after you.” His breath ghosts across my ear, and I hate the shiver that runs down my spine. “Bastian knows these forests almost as well as I do. If you run, he’ll catch you, and what he has planned is much worse than anything I’ve done.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m sure he can feel it through my back.
He turns me around to face him, keeping his hands on my shoulders. “There’s no reason for you to believe me, and I know I’ve given you every reason to hate me. But I’m telling you the truth about this. If you run, you’ll die. Or worse.”
Arguments crowd my tongue. Accusations that he’s just trying to scare me into submission nearly spill out. Part of me wants to believe this is all some elaborate manipulation designed to break down my resistance.
But the fear in his eyes looks so real. The exhaustion etched into his features looks authentic. And the mate bond between us carries nothing but honest desperation.
He’s not lying. He might be many things, but right now, in this moment, he’s not lying about this.
I yank free of his grip, and this time, he lets me go. Several steps put distance between us as I wrap my arms around myself like armor.
“What do you want from me? Why are you doing this? If you just wanted a Llewelyn mate, there are easier ways to get one than kidnapping.”
“I don’t just want a Llewelyn mate.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and exhales slowly. “You’re the one I want. My wolf recognized you the moment I saw you in that bar, and everything I’ve done since then has been about keeping you alive.”
“By trapping me in a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
“By getting you away from Thornridge before they could use you as a weapon against your own pack.” One step brings him toward me, but he stops when he sees me tense. “None of this is what you wanted, and I know that. Stealing your choices and your freedom was never my goal. But if I had to do it all again, I would make the same decision, because at least you’re alive. At least you’re safe.”
“I don’t feel safe.” The whisper scrapes past my lips before I can stop it. “I feel like a prisoner.”
