The Edge of Despair

Thalia POV

Without thinking, I lunge forward and throw my arms around his waist. I bury my wet face into his hard torso, my shoulders shaking as a jagged sob tears from my throat. I expect him to shove me into the dirt, to sneer at my weakness, but he doesn't. He just stands there. He doesn't wrap his arms around me, but the sheer fact that he allows me this fleeting moment of contact feels like a lifeline.

I hyperventilate against his shirt, unable to catch a full breath. He keeps demanding to know what happened, his voice laced with a strange urgency. I want to tell him. I want to scream that Torin rejected me, that Kaelith is gone, but my vocal cords refuse to cooperate. Only broken gasps and wet sobs leave my mouth.

Then, heavy boots crunch against the forest floor. The sound snaps Ronan out of his momentary lapse in hostility. He shoves me back violently. The sudden force throws me off balance, and I crash into the hard dirt, my hip taking the brunt of the impact. I wince, pain shooting up my side.

"Thalia!" He steps toward me, his hand twitching. "I didn't mean to push you—"

"There she is!"

I cradle my throbbing wrist and look up. Two pack guards stalk toward us out of the darkness, their eyes gleaming with pure malice.

"What is it?" Ronan demands, his tone instantly snapping back to ice. The guards pause, shocked by the future Alpha’s stern command. They quickly bow their heads in submission.

"The Alphas demand her presence. She attempted to kill Miss Cleo Kaelen," one of them states flatly.

My heart drops into my stomach. Attempted murder? That scheming bitch Cleo is milking our minor altercation for everything it is worth. Ronan shoots me a dark, calculating glare before turning his attention back to the guard's highly exaggerated tale.

"You are a relentless menace, Thalia," Ronan sneers, the brief moment of concern completely vanishing from his eyes.

"She attacked me first. I was only defending myself," I whisper, my voice cracking.

Ronan scoffs, crossing his muscular arms. "And what about our mother?"

The words hit like a physical blow. I clamp my mouth shut, letting fresh tears track down my dirty cheeks. I have no defense.

"I wish you died that night, not her," he snarls, his voice dripping with venom.

I am too drained to cry anymore. The two guards grab me roughly by the upper arms, hauling me to my feet. They drag me all the way back to the packhouse and toss me into the Alpha’s office like a sack of garbage, sending me sprawling across the expensive rug.

I scramble to my feet just as my father, Alpha Darius, closes the distance between us. His hand connects with my cheek in a brutal, ringing slap.

The force spins me around, sending me stumbling backward. Before I hit the floor, large, calloused hands grip my waist, hauling me upright. Alpha Kaelen.

"You attempted to kill Cleo Kaelen!" my father roars, his face turning an angry shade of red.

I can't even focus on his yelling. Kaelen is still holding me from behind. His grip is tight, but his fingers aren't just steadying me—they are moving. His large hand slides up my ribcage, his fingers intentionally brushing against the side of my breast. He drags his palm down my stomach, his hand resting heavily on my hip before trailing down to squeeze my buttocks. It is a deliberate, predatory grope.

I whimper, twisting my body frantically to break his hold, but his fingers only dig in harder, securing me against his front.

"Don't touch me, please," I cry out, my voice trembling with disgust.

Kaelen ignores me, his fingers squeezing my waist. My father stands right there, pouring himself a drink, and does absolutely nothing to stop it.

"Please, tell him to stop," I beg my father, tears blurring my vision. He simply turns his back, turning a deaf ear to my pleas. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying this is a nightmare I will wake up from.

The heavy mahogany doors slam open, banging violently against the walls. Ronan strides into the office, his bright eyes flashing with feral fury.

"Don't fucking touch her!" he growls, his voice vibrating with lethal intent.

Kaelen chuckles, his hands lingering on my waist for a second too long before he finally steps back, raising his palms in mock surrender. "Relax, young Alpha. Thalia was about to fall, and I merely caught her."

Ronan isn't buying a single word of it. His jaw clenches tight as he shoots Kaelen a look of pure disgust, then snaps his furious gaze onto our father. "She is a child! How can you stand there and let him behave that way toward her?"

"The girl overreacts. And seventeen years old is no child," Darius grumbles, tossing back a glass of amber liquid. He pours another and offers it to Ronan, but my brother stares at it dejectedly, refusing to take it.

"She is going with Kaelen tomorrow morning," my father announces coldly.

The room spins. No. I shake my head frantically, my breathing picking up speed. I don't want to go with Kaelen.

"What do you mean by that, Alpha?" Ronan asks, his words slipping through tightly clenched teeth. His hands ball into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

"Kaelen wants a personal maid, and I gave her to him. It is the absolute least she could do after she tried to kill Cleo, your future Luna," Darius states nonchalantly, setting his glass down.

"No, brother, don't let him do this, please. I don't want to go with Kaelen," I plead, my voice breaking. Ronan has not yet been inducted as Alpha. He is the only person in this room who can save me. If Kaelen is bold enough to grope me in front of my own father, he will be completely unrestrained once I am trapped in his pack. I cannot go with him.

Ronan stares at me, his jaw working as conflicting emotions war in his eyes. He defended me from Kaelen's physical assault, but challenging a formal trade is a direct act of treason. He looks torn, struggling with his duty.

"Get out," Ronan orders me, his voice flat.

He turns his annoyed glare back to our father, shutting me out. I catch a glimpse of Kaelen out of the corner of my eye. He is staring at my body, a sick smirk stretching across his face. The moment the office door clicks shut behind me, the heavy silence of the hallway suffocates me.

I rush up the stairs to the attic, pacing the cramped space in front of my dingy mattress. The thought of Kaelen’s hands on my skin makes my stomach churn violently. I would rather be dead than become a sex slave for that predator. My eyes land on a small razor blade sitting on my battered desk. I snatch it up, gripping the cool metal tight, and head back downstairs.

As I slip through the corridors toward the back exit, I pass the common area. I freeze in my tracks.

Torin is sitting on one of the leather couches, Vessa straddling his lap. They are making out aggressively, their mouths mashed together. The sight of my mate—the boy who rejected me just hours ago—kissing the pack slut makes my chest cave in. A phantom pain grips my sternum, and I fight the urge to vomit.

I try to keep walking, but Vessa’s nasal voice rings out. "Hey, slut, stop."

I keep my head down, forcing my legs toward the door.

"Thalia!" she shrieks.

I stop. Slowly, I turn my head to glare at her.

"Did you not hear me call you?" Vessa snaps, peeling herself off Torin’s lap and strutting toward me, her hips swaying.

"You said slut, and the only slut I see in this room is you," I say, my voice eerily calm despite the chaos in my mind.

A couple of girls sitting nearby, Kaia and Jolie, burst into laughter. They have never been cruel to me; Kaia even defends me from bullies when she can.

Vessa gasps in outrage. She raises her hand, swinging hard to slap my face, but a low, warning growl erupts from Torin. Her hand freezes in mid-air. I meet my ex-mate’s eyes. His face is a blank, unreadable mask, but his chest is heaving.

"Don't fucking dare hit my—her. Do not hit her, Vessa," Torin snaps, catching his own mate-slip just in time.

Vessa drops her hand, her lips curling into a vicious smile. "I won't waste my time fighting her. Thalia needs to reserve all her energy for Kaelen. He is taking her to his pack tomorrow morning."

My blood turns to ice. My eyes widen in pure fear.

"What?!" Torin and Kaia yell simultaneously, exchanging shocked glances at their outburst.

"Yes, baby. Didn't you hear?" Vessa steps closer to me, winking maliciously. "Alpha Kaelen wants her as a maid, but we all know the real reason she is going."

"Damn, he is going to fuck her every single night," Cormac chimes in from the corner, laughing.

The boys in the room erupt into crude laughter. They start trading disgusting comments about what sex positions Kaelen will try first, discussing what he will do to my body. Torin’s eyes flash pitch black. He lets out a furious growl at them, leaps over the coffee table, and suddenly bolts out of the room.

"In all honesty, Thalia is hot. She could be a supermodel," Thatcher, another pack warrior, says, raking his dark eyes up and down my body. A violent shudder rips through my spine under his predatory gaze. "She is tall and thin, with flawless skin and long legs. Her face card game is fire."

Vessa glares at the men, jealousy flaring in her eyes, before turning her rage back on me. "Yeah, right. If freaks became supermodels. Go kill yourself, freak. Oops, you just got promoted to a sex slave."

Something inside me snaps. The suffocating despair, the rejection, the groping, the endless public humiliation—it all converges into a blinding flash of white-hot anger. I ball my hand into a tight fist. Without a second thought, I pivot on my heel and drive my knuckles straight into Vessa's face.

A sickening crunch echoes in the room. Blood explodes from her nose as she shrieks, stumbling backward and clutching her face. I don't wait for the shock to wear off. I turn and bolt out the door, my boots hitting the dirt as I run for my life. I have been wanting to do that for a long time.

"Catch that bitch! We are going to show her today!" Vessa screams from inside the packhouse.

I sprint into the thick of the woods, my heart hammering against my ribs. I tear through the trees, branches whipping my face and arms, heading straight toward the pack's border near the secluded lake I always visit. If they catch me, they will beat me black and blue.

I don't slow down until the sounds of pursuit fade into the distance. I glance over my shoulder, seeing nothing but empty shadows. They went back. They were just scaring me.

I collapse onto the damp earth beside the lake, my chest heaving as I fight to catch my breath. I look up at the sky. Thick thunderclouds are rolling in, obscuring the stars that were shining just moments ago. It looks like a good night to die.

I pull the small razor blade from the pocket of my pale blue dress. I hold it up, the sharp edge catching the faint reflection of the rippling water. I grip it tight, ready to slice my wrist. Bleeding out will not be as painful as the agony sitting in my chest. My heart has been ripped out and stomped on. I have tried my hardest to survive, to endure the abuse, but I simply cannot do it anymore. I need to free myself from the suffocating burden of this world. Once I die, I will meet my mother on the other side, and we will finally be happy together.

I press the sharp edge of the razor against my pale skin. I grit my teeth and slowly drag the metal across my wrist.

A sharp gasp escapes my lips. Blood instantly bubbles up, dark and thick, pouring out of the deep cut in a heavy rush. Seeing the crimson liquid spill over my hand shatters my morbid trance. A sudden, violent wave of panic hits me. My survival instinct kicks in, screaming at me to live.

I drop the bloody razor, kicking dead leaves over it with my boot to bury it from sight. My hands shake uncontrollably. I need to stop the bleeding. I grab the hem of my dress and tear a long strip of the fabric. I wrap it tightly around my wound, tying the makeshift bandage with my teeth to apply pressure. My breath comes in short, terrified gasps.

Deciding I should get up and continue running into the rogue lands, I push myself off the ground.

Suddenly, my entire body freezes.

"I know you are still here," Cormac's voice echoes through the dark trees, dripping with lethal intent.