Run Away Together

The silence that descends upon the room is heavy and absolute. For a long moment, the only sound is the frantic, shallow beat of my own heart echoing in my ears. I stare blankly at the royal messenger, wondering if the sheer terror of this day has finally driven me mad. There is no other explanation. Why on earth would the ruthless Lycan King want me?

Every year, the tradition remains unchanged. Each pack in the kingdom meticulously selects its most flawless, breathtaking women to send to Crown City. From that pool of perfection, King Roman handpicks the ones that capture his interest, pulling them into a life shrouded in the mysteries of his harem. To be chosen is hailed as a supreme, life-altering honor, yet it is shadowed by dark whispers. People speak in hushed, terrified tones of his merciless nature, his cold brutality, and his insatiable appetites. Strangely, though, there has never been any talk of children. Those who defend the King claim it is because he is waiting for his fated mate, the only woman destined to bear his true heir.

But I am neither beautiful nor important. I am a disgraced servant in my own family's home, forced to bow on the hardwood floor. Why would the powerful Lycan King want me as his personal property? Unless he simply needs another miserable wretch to scrub the palace floors in the dark?

"That's impossible," Blaire says, her voice sharp and trembling, speaking the very words I cannot find the courage to say aloud. She glares at the messenger. "There must be some mistake. A massive mistake."

"There is no mistake," the royal messenger replies, his voice cold and flat. "Our King Roman has been searching specifically for women with this exact girl's characteristics. Having seen her myself, I can verify she matches his criteria perfectly. I am bound by my honor and his command to bring her directly to him."

I can barely remember him looking at me for more than a brief second. Perhaps that fleeting glance was all his sharp, supernatural eyes needed to confirm what he was looking for.

"She isn't even a virgin!" Blaire screams, her composure completely shattering. In her blinding rage, she drops the heavy ceramic teapot she was holding. I react instinctively, trying to pull my legs back, but the teapot crashes violently onto the floor, shattering into a dozen jagged shards. Scalding hot water splashes outward, instantly soaking through the thin, frayed hem of my skirt. The burning heat seeps into my skin, and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out.

The royal messenger leaps to his feet, his handsome face twisting with sheer annoyance and disgust at the display.

"No Alpha would want her, especially the King!" Blaire continues to screech, entirely oblivious to the dangerous look in the messenger's eyes. My mother notices, though, her face paling as she steps closer to her favorite child. "Offering the King a dirty whore like her is an insult to his crown! She is nothing but—"

A loud, resounding crack echoes through the room.

The royal messenger moves in a blur, his hand striking Blaire cleanly and brutally across her face.

Blaire stumbles sideways, completely stunned. Her head is forced to the side by the impact, and tears instantly well in her wide, shocked eyes. A bright, angry red handprint begins to bloom across her pale, pampered cheek. She has never been struck like that in her entire life, even when she desperately deserved it. I was always the designated punching bag for this family; Blaire was the untouchable, perfect angel.

The messenger steps forward, looking down at her with pure, chilling disdain. "Who do you think you are to question the direct will of our King Roman? It is wholly within my authority to have you hung for such blatant treachery."

Mother moves instantly, throwing her body into the space between Blaire and the messenger.

"Please, forgive my foolish child, noble sir!" Mother begs, her voice trembling as she clasps her hands together. "She does not understand what she is saying. If anyone is to be punished, please punish me instead. As the mother who raised her, it is my duty to take responsibility for her ignorance."

I watch them from my hands and knees, my joints throbbing with a dull pain from sitting so rigidly on the hard floor. Mother is practically draping her body over my sister, desperate to protect her precious child.

And as always, no one is protecting me. I am left entirely on my own.

Exhaling a breath of heavy frustration, the messenger turns his cold attention back to me. "Gather your things, Miss..."

"Tessa," I croak, my throat dry.

He doesn't nod or acknowledge my name. "You are permitted only one bag. Pack wisely. We depart in exactly five minutes."

Five minutes is barely enough time to breathe.

I push myself up to my feet, ignoring the painful creak in my knees and the pathetic sniveling of my mother as she continues to shield my sister. I turn away and walk toward the exit.

I don't even own a bag of my own, so I quietly slip into my parents' bedroom to take one of theirs. The canvas bag I pull from the closet is one that used to belong to me before my disgrace. Taking it back now doesn't feel like stealing; it feels like reclaiming a small piece of my stolen past.

With the bag in hand, I make my way toward the back hallway.

Three years ago, I was stripped of my beautiful bedroom and banished to the drafty attic. It is a miserable, freezing space with barely any insulation, and the ceiling leaks whenever there is a heavy rain or too much snow. Yet, I have managed to make it my home, placing the few meager things I still own around my cot.

As I walk, I make a mental list of the items I can't live without. It is a tragically short list, as most of my possessions were stripped from me long ago.

I climb the wooden rungs of the ladder to my attic space, dragging the empty bag behind me. When my head clears the opening and I step into the dim, dusty room, I freeze.

A familiar, tall figure is standing near my bed. In the faint, gray light filtering through the small, slatted window, he turns to face me.

"Declan," I gasp.

What could he possibly be doing here? We haven't spoken a single word since that horrific day three years ago. I had tried so hard to explain everything to him, to make him understand what had really happened, but he refused to listen. He cast me away, treating me like a pariah just like everyone else.

"Gather only what you absolutely cannot live without," Declan says, his voice tight and urgent. "We need to travel fast and light if we are to have any chance of escaping."

I stand completely still, my mind unable to process his words. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Hurry, Tessa," Declan pleads. He steps forward, snatching the canvas bag from my hands, and begins grabbing my clothes from the corner hamper, shoving them frantically inside. He works blindly, desperately, packing for me.

"But... why?" I ask, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Without looking at me, his words pour out in a rushed, frantic murmur. "I don't want to marry Blaire. I never did. I've done everything in my power to delay this wedding. For three long, agonizing years, I succeeded in holding it off. Two more weeks is all I need, Tessa. In two weeks, I will officially become the Alpha. Once I am Alpha, I can make my own decisions. I can choose who I want to stand beside me as my Luna."

His words hit me like a physical shock. For any of this to be true, it means he has spent the last three years playing a dangerous game of pretend, convincing everyone he wanted my sister, only to plan a rebellion the moment he took power.

But I still don't understand how this affects me.

Declan must see the deep uncertainty and fear in my eyes. He drops my bag onto the cot and takes a few quick steps toward me, closing the distance until he is standing directly in front of me.

"I wanted to wait until I was safely Alpha," he continues, his voice lowering but filled with a burning, intense determination. Even in the dim light of the attic, his eyes lock onto mine, anchoring me to the spot. "But I can't wait if they are planning to give you away to him. We have to leave tonight. We can elope on the road, and then no one can stop us."

"Elope? Declan, you haven't even spoken to me in three years..."

"Haven't you been listening?" Declan says, his hands coming up to gently grasp my shoulders. "It was all a ruse. You are the only one I love, Tessa. The only one I have ever loved. There is no time. Run away with me now, and become my wife."

"Your wife?!" a shriek erupts from the ladder.

Before we can react, Blaire pushes her way into the attic space. Her face is twisted in a mask of pure disbelief and venomous rage. "You are completely insane! You will be hunted like animals! The Lycan King will not be denied. He will chase you for the rest of your lives. No one defies him!"

I stumble backward in pure panic, my heart throat-bound. How long has she been standing on that ladder? How much of this did she listen to?