Page 4 of Our Deceptive Heat

I tremble and step backwards but force myself to stop. Just in case.

I thought we’d moved past this, this fear.

How many times have I called the police? How many times has she lied? My father has never, ever raised a hand to me, but I’ve had to watch this all my life. One day he will. If I say no, if I refuse to do his bidding, he will hit me the way he hits her. He’s said it, he promised me.

I’m twenty-one. I shouldn’t be this scared, and I shouldn’t be having to put up with this anymore. Why do they do this?

I’m almost as angry with her as I am with him. Why can’t she walk away? Why not pack her bags and find another pack? Find someone else. Why stay? Why? Why? Why?

I wrap my arms around my middle and slowly retreat to my bedroom; her wail is an accompaniment that haunts me.

When I get in there, I sit with my phone in my hand, waiting in case it gets worse.

Two hours pass in a slow crawl as their argument rises and falls. When, at last, it goes silent, I tiptoe downstairs and find my mother curled up on the kitchen floor. Tears run down her cheeks, and her mascara is smeared down across her face. Her eyes look dead.

He never hits her face. I carefully peel up her top, checking her back for the telltale dark violets of an emerging bruise. There are a couple of bad ones.

“Do you want to report this, Mum? We can call the police.” I know what her answer will be, but I live in hope that today will be different.

“No,” she slurs. “Nope. I deserved it.”

“Mum,” I protest.

“Shut the fuck up, Auryn! You don’t know what you’re talking about. Wait until you have a husband or a pack or a bond. Then you’ll understand.”

I shudder. I don’t know that I want any of those things. What I want is freedom. I help her up and into the room I set up for her for nights like this. It takes me a couple of minutes to get her undressed. I put a bucket beside her, get a couple of painkillers into her with a few sips of water, and help her into the giant bed.

Alone.

She’s always alone.

Except for me. But she hates me more than she hates him.

Is that any kind of life?

For any of us?

Why am I the only one who is looking for more? I squeeze my phone to my chest as I leave the room. This is not my future. This is not how my life is going to go.

I’m fighting for something more. Fate’s Choice is my choice.

I close my eyes, go upstairs, and grab my already packed bags. Is it weird that I live out of them? I’m constantly changing locations from home to hotels, avoiding my parents. An hour later, when I’m sure everyone is asleep, I slip out of my family home.

As the dawn rises, I find myself in a cab, being driven across town to the only safe place I know. And when I knock on the door of the Raine’s mansion where I was dumped three quarters of my childhood like a piece of unwanted trash, it’s Lia and Locke who let me in, who pull me into safety and listen while I tremble and cry.

It’s to them I eventually tell my good news. And an hour later, the three of us are celebrating with shots and dancing. Because that’s the version of family that I know and love.

I choose my own fate.

They are my choice.

Chapter two

Ryn

One step bravely throughthe fearsome doors of destiny - Ryn Raines

“I’m not nervous.”

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