Was this all one of Glen’s mind games? Why had he put me in this room? My breathing quickened with panic and my thoughts were clumsy, as if I were trying to reach them through a thick fog.
Get out. You have to escape.
Now that my eyes had adjusted, I could see it was at least a king-sized bed with big, fluffy pillows and a bedspread that I had dirtied with my mud-covered clothes. I was sure Glen would blame me for it, and that was enough motivation to get me out of bed.
I almost crumpled to the ground when I put weight on my bad leg, managing to just catch the edge of the bed to keep myself upright. Despair gripped me, and I wanted to cry. How was I supposed to escape when I could barely stand?
I made my way to the door with painfully slow steps. My hand hovered over the handle, but I caught myself before opening it. It had to be locked, but on the off chance that it wasn’t, there were sure to be guards on the other side. If I opened the door, I would lose any element of surprise.
I stumbled back, paralyzed with indecision. My thoughts were coming too fast and slow at the same time. Why couldn’t I figure out what to do?
I wished I knew exactly what had happened when Genevieve and I were caught. But I owed it to her to find her and get us out of here.
I had to blink away tears again. Now was not the time to fall apart. I needed to stay strong and get us out of here. If I couldn’t leave through the door, I’d have to climb out the window. Once I was out of the house, I could figure out where Genevieve was.
I limped over to the large window and pulled the curtains back. It looked to be morning, but the sky was dark and it was drizzling. The courtyard lights illuminated the edge of the forest Genevieve and I had escaped through. I must be at the back of the mansion, my heart sinking with the realization that I was on the second, or possibly even third, floor.
I inhaled sharply as I remembered the documents I’d taken from Glen’s office. The briefcase was nowhere to be found. All of that work for nothing, and now Glen would have even more reason to punish me.
Oh god… my lip trembled as I realized why I was in this room. This was where I was going to be given to Pack Madden. Was someone going to come and get me ready or would the next people through that door be Pack Madden, here to rape and bond me? My body rocked with violent tremors and I felt hot and cold at the same time.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
I fiddled with the lock on the window, which shocked me by popping open. Glen must have assumed I wouldn’t be foolish enough to escape this way. He clearly didn’t realize I would choose death over living the rest of my life as a captive.
My hands were sweaty as I pushed the window open, the cool air hitting my face. The subtle scent of pine trees hit me, and for a moment I thought I even got a whiff of apple spice. This time, I couldn’t stop my tears. I would never see my alphas again, never be held by them, never feel their love and protection.
My chest shook with my silent sobs. Would it be better to just end it now? I leaned out the window and I could make out a brick patio below. Would I die if I jumped? I could practically hear my alphas snarling at me, telling me I had to survive. But bone-deep exhaustion settled in me. Was this just what my life was going to be, going from one torture to the next?
Before I could make up my mind about what to do, the door handle turned. I cried out, dizzy with fear as I swung my bad leg out the window.
“Oh good, you’re awake!” the intruder said, his voice strangely cheerful.
I locked eyes with his dark brown ones and quickly took him in. He was older, with some silver interspersed in his dark brown hair, and he was dressed casually, not like a guard. That didn’t mean anything, though. I’d gotten used to Glen’s games throughout the years. One time at the DA, he told me I was getting discharged and going home. He’d set up an elaborate ruse with paperwork for me to sign and clothing to wear. A nurse had helped me pack. They’d gone so far as to let me take a single step out the front door. But instead of my parents being there to pick me up, Glen had been there with a gleeful smile. He’d used his bark on me, the old device putting me in an unconscious state. When I’d come to again, I’d been strapped on the metal table, Glen and Dr. Bishop looming over me.
“Wait, what are you doing?” the intruder asked, his eyes widening. His faint lavender scent wafted over me as he took a step towards me, his hands held out beseechingly. I froze as I processed his scent—he was a beta. Glen never used betas.
“Don’t come any closer!” I shouted. My knuckles screamed with how tightly I gripped the windowsill.
“Okay, Josie. I’m going to stay right here. I’m Jackson Turro, one of Donovan’s bond mates. You’re safe here.”
I couldn’t process what he was saying. Was this another mindfuck game? Or had Genevieve actually gotten us to Pack Turro’s home?
“I’m not going to be a prisoner.” I tried to sound fierce, but my words were drenched in sadness.
“I know, honey,” Jackson said softly. “You’ve been through so much. You’re not a prisoner, I promise. I should have waited for Donovan before I came in.” He ruffled his hair in a Theo-like gesture as he glanced at the open door behind him. “He should be here any minute. You remember Donovan, right? I was out of town for the cocktail party, but you met him there.”
I stared blankly at him, refusing to let my guard down.
“Can you come back inside, honey?”
I glanced out the window, and dizziness washed through me. Had the ground moved farther away? My leg was still dangling out of the window. It wouldn’t take much for me to tip out. A cold breeze raised goosebumps on my skin and I shivered.
Just then, Donovan entered the room. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.
“Okay, so I did tell you to wait for me,” he said to Jackson, his voice calm.
“Yep. I fucked up,” Jackson responded.
