Page 7 of Wolf Fated

"No need to say anything, dear," Sally replies, patting my hand once more before rising to her feet. "Just take care of yourself, and let Willowbrook look after the rest. I have a good feeling about you being here."

I don’t want to burst her bubble so I smile and say nothing.

She scribbles down an address on a napkin and slides it across the table toward me. "That's where you'll find the Wolf's Bite. Cindi will be waiting for you in the foyer."

I chuckle at the unusual name, shaking my head in amusement. "Wolf's Bite? That's certainly an interesting name choice."

Sally simply winks at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You'll see, honey. This town will no doubt surprise you."

I gather my belongings, leave money on the table to cover the meal, and make my way out to my car, the address tucked safely in my pocket. I’ll have to see how much is in my account, but I still have no reception on my phone. I’ll need to call the bank in the morning and make sure to take Mark’s name off my account.

Sally's directions are clear and concise, and it doesn't take me long to locate the hotel, nestled amidst a charming array of cottages and flowering gardens.

As I pull into the parking lot, a sense of wonder washes over me. The Wolf's Bite is a vision straight out of a fairytale, a quaint two-story building constructed of weathered stone and timber, with a thatched roof and ivy-covered walls.

Flower boxes overflow with a riot of colorful blooms and a well-tended garden surrounds the property, lush and inviting. It's a far cry from the sterile, impersonal hotels I've grown accustomed to, and I find myself captivated by its rustic charm.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my overnight bag from the backseat and make my way toward the entrance, my footsteps crunching on the gravel paths that wind through a well-tended garden. As I approach the heavy oak door, it swings open, revealing a woman who I presume is Cindi.

She's tall and willowy, with long, chestnut hair that falls in gentle waves around her face. Her smile is warm and inviting, her green eyes sparkling with mischief as she takes me in.

"You must be Sarah," she says, her voice rich and melodic. "Welcome to the Wolf's Bite. I've been expecting you."

“Oh. Thank you. Sally said she called ahead to book me in.” I say.

Cindi laughs. “You’ll get used to Sally. She’s like the town’s pseudo mother. A real sheep in wolf’s clothing, know what I mean?”

I nod, but I don’t really know what she means and I’m too tired to think. Everything comes crashing over my head and I’m finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other.

“Come on. I’ll get you to your room and I can tell you all about Willowbrook tomorrow.”

I nod gratefully, the weight of my fatigue settling deeper into my bones with each passing moment. Cindi ushers me inside the charming building and I can't shake the strange sense of familiarity that washes over me. It's the same inexplicable pull I felt toward Sally, a warmth and ease that envelops me like a well-worn blanket.

As we climb the stairs to the second floor, Cindi keeps up a steady stream of gentle chatter, filling me in on the history of the Wolf's Bite and the various amenities it has to offer.

But if I'm being honest, her words wash over me in a soothing haze, my mind too muddled and weary to fully process the details. All I can focus on is the promise of a soft bed and the chance to escape into the oblivion of sleep, if only for a little while.

Chapter Five

Sarah

Cindi doesn't linger once we reach the door to my room. With a warm smile and a gentle pat on the arm, she hands me the key and wishes me a good night's rest, leaving me to my own devices.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I let out a long, shuddering breath, the weight of the day's events crashing down upon me. My bag slips from my shoulder, landing on the plush carpeting with a muffled thud as I take in my surroundings.

The room is cozy and inviting, with a queen-sized bed draped in crisp linens and a plush duvet. A small sitting area nestled in the corner beckons with overstuffed armchairs and a quaint little coffee table, while a door leading off to the side hints at an en-suite bathroom.

It's a far cry from the sterile, impersonal hotel rooms I've grown accustomed to, and I can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I can allow myself to relax, to let my guard down and simply exist without the weight of the world bearing down upon me.

With movements fueled by sheer force of will, I strip out of my clothes, leaving a trail of discarded garments in my wake. As I reach for the well-worn T-shirt and sleep shorts tucked away in my bag, a pang of bitterness lances through me.

These were the clothes that Mark had deemed "unacceptable," his sneering words echoing in my mind like a cruel taunt. "You're too fat to wear that, Sarah. It's unflattering and makes you look like a slob."

Tears prick my eyes as I remember the sting of his words, the way they had cut me to the core and reinforced every insecurity I've ever harbored about my body. But as I slip into the soft, worn fabric, I can't help but feel a sense of defiance well up within me.

No more. I'm done letting his cruelty dictate how I live my life, how I view myself. These clothes are comfortable, familiar, and they're mine to wear however I damn well please.

With a newfound sense of determination, I crawl beneath the plush duvet, reveling in the way the mattress seems to mold itself to my curves. Exhaustion weighs heavily upon me, and within moments, I drift off into the welcoming embrace of slumber.

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