Page 33 of Ruthless Moon

All I can do now is vow, to myself and to my wolf, that I will shatter my own soul if that’s what it takes to safeguard hers.

Chapter Eleven

I Won’t Let Him Hurt You Again

IMOGEN GALLAGHER

The next morning...

I’m alone in the mornings as long as I don’t leave my room. No one comes to look for me. No one bothers me here.

Today the familiar rhythmic heartbeat of my antique clock isn’t comforting. Instead each ticking second is a relentless echo of time’s cruel march toward an inevitable future. A future with Aiden. A future that leaves no room for Liam.

Leaning my forehead against the cold windowpane of my bedroom, I shut my eyes, desperate to block out the world. The chill seeping into my skin offers a fleeting reprieve from the hot, simmering anger mixed with a fierce, choking helplessness that boils within me.

I’ve always been aware of my status as a pawn in my father’s twisted games. Yet I never thought it would get this bad. Or maybe I just secretly believed I’d never be forced to lay myself bare on the altar of his ruthless ambition.

A firm knock on my door snatches me from my spiral of thoughts. My heart flutters, jittery like a captured bird.

“Gen?” Aiden’s voice seeps through the solid barrier of my door, tender as a whisper.

“Aiden,” I respond to the lifeless room, as if the act of uttering his name could somehow dilute the sharp sting blossoming in my chest. I peel my forehead off the cold glass and then, with trembling hands, smooth down my rumpled blouse.

It’s just Aiden. Just the man I’m being forced to marry. Just the man who isn’t Liam.

With a sigh, I open the door to reveal him, standing in the hall, dressed in boots and jeans, a light blue shirt, and a gentle smile on his handsome face. He extends his hand. “Ready to escape for a while this morning?” His calm baritone timbre provides a brief respite to the worry ping-ponging in my head.

His presence doesn’t spark fury, nor does it ignite joy. It simply underlines once again the inevitability of my fate.

My gaze flickers from Aiden to the gilded cage called my room, and back again. No hesitation. I place my hand in his. His touch is warm, completely opposite to the icy tendrils of dread curling in the pit of my stomach.

“Lead the way,” I say, managing to offer him a strained smile. I want to escape, need to escape. But as we step into the hallway, I wish it was Liam’s hand holding mine.

Despite the temporary freedom Aiden offers, I’m painfully aware that it’s not truly freedom at all. It’s another cage, maybe a kinder, gentler one. But still a cage. And my gratitude for Aiden’s kindness is marred by a nagging melancholy. Given a choice, I’d flee this nightmare with Liam at my side.

Aiden guides me through the labyrinth of my father’s house, toward the driveway where his truck purrs softly. He assists me into the passenger seat. I look back at the house, unable to shake off an unsettling chill crawling up my spine.

Sure enough, my father stands at the window of his office, watching us leave.

I flash back to yesterday—my father pointing a gun at me, the deafening sound of the gunshot, the relief of realizing it was the guard, not me, he’d shot. The man had paid the price for a perceived disloyalty, a treachery initiated by Meredith’s glamouring spell. The magick had made the guard take us to Denver without telling my father. It was our fault.

My fault.

I’d protected Meredith’s secret.

The drive unfurls like a long, drawn-out breath. We abandon the jagged mountainside and leave Ash Hollow shrinking in the rearview mirror. The truck weaves a serpentine dance along the main road, tracing the wild contours of the river.

He’s taking me to his home.

My future home.

A hollow sorrow seeps into my heart, its cold threads wrapping around my spirit. The reality of it threatens to drown me. I would have to make a home with this man, fashion a life. Bear children. How am I going to do that?

My life hadn’t led me toward O’Connor territory and the quaint town of White Fork until today. My father’s restrictions saw to that, and it was a boundary I’d never found the courage to defy.

And yet the end of the valley that belongs to Aiden is stunning and I find myself smiling in appreciation. Cresting a hill, a breathtaking sigh unfolds—the lake, a brilliant expanse of cobalt blue.

White Rock Lake is the heart of this end of the valley and the namesake of the picturesque town nestled on its northern shore. Homes, like sprinkles of confetti, dot the forested landscape, tucked neatly into the rolling hills and the river’s winding journey toward the lake.

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