Page 9 of Mated to the Wolves

“You are here to serve your betters.” Energy presses down, an invisible weight crushing me.

Legs screaming in protest, I fight the desire to kneel. “Oh, this will be fun, teaching you all

over again what happens when willful little orphans act like ungrateful urchins.” Gerda increases

the heaviness. I grit my teeth as my knees weaken.

My stomach rolls like a stormy sea, and heat floods my body.

“I’ve missed our little games.” She hums happily as my entire body quakes. Breathing hard. I imagine roots anchoring me to the ground. “I will break you. Like I always have.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” I force the words out.

Her thin, high-arched eyebrows dip down, and her smooth forehead wrinkles. Death will befall me before I bow to this wretched woman even once more.

Pop. Something inside my brain gives. The intense pressure recedes, and I straighten, resisting her. Her eyes widen, and she doubles down.

“Postulate before your better.” The command behind her voice is hypnotic.

I want to obey. Betas follow, not lead. A broken component inside me refuses to lie down and show her my belly.

“Sick pup. You’re all mixed up. But I’m going to change that.” Her power lashes out, burying its hooks into me. “Come to heel,” she yells.

My ears throb along with the pulsing in my temples. Vision tunneling, I stumble. Sharp points dig into my aura. Ding Dong. The doorbell breaks her concentration.

“We’re not finished here.” She promises, replacing her spite with the mask of cheer and propriety.

One day I’ll strip back that façade and show the pack the ugliness that lies beneath. Today, all my energy goes to surviving.

Leaning on the thick bedpost, I catch my breath. Going toe-to-toe like that was new and exhilarating. Things are going to be different this time. Small victories.

The heavy front door opens. I listen.

“Fell, you sweet boy. What are you doing here?” I cover my mouth to hide my gag. Confusion and anger swirl together.

What the hell is my ex doing here? I’m not ready to confront the plethora of emotions he invokes.

“I just heard. Is Ylva okay?” What the hell does he care after shattering my soul? Heat washes over my skin, filling my cheeks and crawling up my neck. I’m not ready to see him.

I spent the past four years wondering why he never showed up to help me drive to college. Now, the prospect of being face-to-face has me sick to my stomach.

Thoughts of his piercing pale green gaze, soft, light blond locks, and thick muscular frame fill my mind’s eyes.

Years of bliss came to an abrupt halt with no explanation. I hate the concern his rich baritone possesses.

I’ve had enough mind screws for one day. A smart woman knows when to attack and when to retreat.

Walking to my window, I peer down the side of the building at the ivy-laden trellis. Self-preservation isn’t cowardice.

I lift the window, swing my shaky legs over, and make my escape. On the ground, I walk away from the towering white Victorian that never felt like home.

I strip off the graduation robes, roll them into a ball, and pitch them into a garbage can at the end of the driveway. The sun sets turning the sky into a painting. I retreat to the woods, starved for comfort.

Tall yellow flowers with orange-tinted centers reach toward the sky alongside bright violet-colored blooms with black centers.

I trail my fingers over the flora and fauna, allowing the warmth of the familiar species to welcome me home. Crossing Gerda’s property line into the wooded area, tension slips from me.

I grew up among the colossal timbers, playing, exploring, and running. Trailing my fingers over the bark, I walk the well-worn path, using night vision to avoid the thick roots springing up from the ground.

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