Flight into Darkness

Fallon’s POV

I was mortified. Pinned under the freezing spray of the shower, my own body waged a sick rebellion against my mind. The icy shock of the water soaked through my clothes, chilling my skin, yet where my back pressed flush against Alpha Vander’s bare, scarred chest, a treacherous heat flared. Every point of contact sparked an undeniable, heavy throb between my thighs. The tighter his muscular arms locked around my drenched frame, caging me in, the more my flesh craved him.

I hated him. I wanted to rip his throat out. But the raw physical power radiating from his skin sent hot waves of arousal straight to my core. I could not let him see it. I could not let him feel the way my body softened against his iron grip.

I started kicking. I drove my heels back into his shins and screamed at the top of my lungs, thrashing my elbows against his arms. It was a desperate facade. I needed to fight him just to hide the humiliating desire flooding my system. I twisted and clawed, hoping he would mistake my frantic squirming for pure hatred rather than a desperate attempt to disguise my body’s betrayal.

Unmoved and heartless as ever, Vander released his hold. He simply opened his arms and dropped me.

I crashed hard onto the tile floor of the shower. The freezing water pummeled my back, plastering my soaked clothes to my shivering skin. The thin, wet fabric clung to my ribs, hiding nothing of how fragile and broken I looked. I gasped for air, hugging my knees to my chest.

Vander loomed over me, a massive shadow of hard muscle and dark ink. He did not care that I was freezing. He did not care that I was trembling. He carelessly tossed a heavy plastic bottle of shower gel at me. It bounced off my shoulder and clattered onto the wet tiles. Without a single word, he turned his broad back and walked out of the bathroom.

I sat there on the hard floor, the cold water trickling over my head, stinging my scalp. The heavy footfalls of his boots faded into the bedroom. He left the bathroom door wide open. I knew he could probably hear me, maybe even see me from where he stood, but the fight drained out of my bones.

Giant tears breached my eyelashes and fell, mixing with the shower spray. I swiped them away with trembling hands, but more followed. I stewed in my misery. I let the icy water numb my skin. I had lost everything. My home. My freedom. My mother. This ruthless King had stripped my life down to nothing and slaughtered the only person who ever loved me.

The sorrow burned away, replaced by a toxic, venomous rage bubbling in my chest. I stared at the drain, watching the soapy, bloody water swirl away. I will kill him. I will ruin him. I made the vow in the silence of my own mind, letting the hatred anchor me.

I wiped my wet face and looked up. Vander stood in the doorway again.

He reached past my shivering frame and twisted the metal knob, shutting off the water. The sudden silence in the bathroom felt heavy. He dropped a thick, dry towel directly onto my head, plunging me into darkness.

“Clean yourself up,” he ordered, his voice cold and flat.

He turned on his heel and marched out. Seconds later, the heavy oak bedroom door slammed shut, sending a vibration through the floorboards. The final, echoing click of the heavy deadbolt sliding into place rang in my ears.

I yanked the towel off my head and scrambled up from the shower floor. I slipped on the wet tiles, catching myself on the sink. My wet clothes weighed me down, sticking uncomfortably to my legs. I stripped the soaked garments off, throwing them into a sodden pile in the corner, and quickly dragged the thick towel over my shivering skin.

I was trapped. I had to find a way out of this room.

I walked out of the ensuite and into the massive bedroom. I yanked the heavy brass handle of the bedroom door. It rattled, locked tight from the outside. Panic fluttered in my chest.

I turned my attention to the giant wardrobe spanning the far wall. I threw the double doors open and rummaged frantically through the hangers. There was nothing small. Nothing that belonged to me. I grabbed the first thing I could reach—a massive, dark t-shirt. I pulled it over my head. The soft cotton swallowed my frame, the hem dropping all the way down past my thighs. It reeked of him. The heavy, intoxicating scent of musky oak and raw power flooded my nostrils, making my stomach knot with a confusing mix of fear and comfort.

I walked over to the full-length mirror standing in the corner. I stared at my reflection and flinched. My raven hair was a tangled, half-braided rat's nest plastered to my skull. Dark, exhausted bags hung heavy under my eyes. Black mascara smeared across my cheeks like war paint. Vander had been right. I looked like a mess.

I slumped to the floor, pulling the giant t-shirt over my knees, tucking my bare feet under the hem. A fresh wave of grief hit me. Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't my mother prepare me for this terrifying reality instead of living in denial? She knew what I was. She knew this day would come. But she kept me in the dark, pretending we were just normal humans hiding in a normal world, right up until the moment he killed her.

I shook the thoughts away. I could not afford to break down again. I needed to move.

I scanned the room for anything useful and spotted a frayed black strap poking out from beneath the massive king-sized bed. My backpack.

I dropped to my stomach and dragged it out. The canvas was torn, the zipper ruined from the chaos of my capture. I dug through the mess. Most of my things were destroyed, but I managed to salvage a pair of comfortable grey athletic shorts and my spare trainers. I shoved my legs into the shorts and laced up the shoes, pulling the knots tight.

I approached the large bedroom windows. I grabbed the brass latches and pushed. The glass swung outward easily, letting in a rush of cool forest air. I leaned over the sill and looked down. My stomach dropped.

The room overlooked the dense woods at the back of the packhouse, but the window sat easily four or five meters above the ground. A sheer, flat drop of solid brick down to the forest floor.

I glanced back at the locked heavy door. If I stayed, I belonged to him.

I swung one leg over the window ledge, straddling the cold stone. The wind whipped my damp hair across my face. I brought my other leg over, turning my body so I faced the brick exterior. I gripped the window frame with white-knuckled fingers and lowered my body down.

My toes scraped desperately against the flat brick, searching for a groove, a hidden ledge, a loose piece of mortar. Anything to hold my weight. I found nothing.

My sneakers slipped against the smooth stone. My feet swung loose. My fingers burned as they took the full weight of my body, scraping against the rough edge of the window sill. I dangled above the dizzying drop, my arms shaking with the strain.

A loud, heavy knock hammered on the bedroom door inside.

“Fallon,” Vander’s deep voice penetrated the thick wood. “Are you decent?”

It was now or never.

I closed my eyes tightly, released my grip, and let go.

The cold air rushed past my ears. My stomach vaulted into my throat. The ground rushed up to meet me.

My trainers slammed into the dirt. My knees bent automatically, absorbing the kinetic energy. I dropped into a low, perfectly balanced crouch, my fingertips grazing the soil. I braced for the shattering pain of broken bones, but there was nothing. No pain. No snapped ankles. My mother had not lied about our heightened wolf reflexes.

I shot up from the dirt. I did not waste a single second looking back up at the imposing stone walls of the packhouse. I turned and sprinted headlong into the thick treeline.

“FALLON!”

Vander’s furious roar exploded inside my head, directly through the newly formed mindlink. The sheer volume of his mental scream rattled my skull, making my teeth ache. I ignored it. I pumped my arms and pushed my legs faster.

I plunged deeper into the woods. I was terrified. My stomach clawed at my ribs with sharp pangs of starvation, but I refused to slow down. I leaped over massive, moss-covered fallen logs. I slid under low, jagged pine branches, ignoring the sharp needles tearing at Vander’s oversized shirt. I would die out here before I let him drag me back to that room.

I ran until my lungs burned. I weaved through the dense trunks, my trainers kicking up dirt and dead leaves.

Then, I realized something strange.

I slowed my pace, jogging to a halt behind a thick oak tree. I pressed my back against the rough bark and listened.

The wind rustled through the canopy overhead. Small animals scurried through the underbrush. But I only heard the crunch of my own footsteps fading into the dirt.

He was not following me.

A different sort of panic gripped my chest. Why wasn't he chasing me? The Lycan King had torn apart my life to claim me, yet he let me run? Was this a test? A trap designed to make me crawl back to him when the wilderness broke me?

A twisted, sickening part of my psyche flared in the empty silence. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind. A dark, confusing piece of me almost wanted to hear his heavy boots crushing the leaves behind me. I wanted him to find me.

I shoved the sick thought away and started walking. I had to keep moving downhill. Flowing water meant civilization, or at least a way out of this territory.

I pushed through a thick cluster of ferns and stopped at the edge of a rushing stream. The water cut a clear, winding path through the forest, separating my side from the opposite bank.

I stared across the water. The woods on the other side looked wrong. The trees grew too close together, their twisted branches blocking out the sunlight. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and unnaturally thick. A cold dread settled in my stomach. My wolf gut screamed at me, warning me to stay away from that ominous stretch of timber.

I stepped back, deciding to stay on my side of the stream and follow the current downhill.

*CRACK.*

A distinct, heavy snap of a dry twig echoed directly behind me.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Vander. He caught up.

Blind panic overrode my instincts. I bolted forward, leaping recklessly over the rushing water. My trainers hit the muddy bank on the opposite side, and I sprinted straight into the dark, forbidden woods.

The air turned instantly freezing. A deeply eerie, terrifying sensation surged through my veins, making the hairs on my arms stand straight up. The shadows seemed to move around me.

I did not even see it coming.

Someone grabbed me from behind with brutal force. A massive hand clamped around my shoulder, yanking me backward mid-stride. Before I could scream, a heavy blow smacked incredibly hard across the top of my head.

White flashes exploded in my vision. My balance vanished. I stumbled backward, my feet tangling together, and crashed hard onto the cold, damp dirt.

My ears rang. My vision blurred, spinning the dark canopy above me into a dizzying swirl. I blinked, trying to clear the fog, and looked up.

Standing over me in the shadows, a pair of deep, unnatural yellow eyes stared hungrily down at my face.