Page 97 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

Her jaw tenses, a muscle twitching in her neck. Then she bites her lip and nods. “Keep going.”

“Well,” I continue, “I started their garden, and I got to know him, and the bite had an effect, but honestly…I fell in love with him, Enid. Not him as some monster that worked his magic on me, but him as a person. He’s kind, and smart, and…and funny, believe it or not. Optimistic, and such a romantic that he makes my knees weak.”

I look up at her, trying to show her just how much conviction I have to get back to him.

“We saw something in each other that was worth fighting for,” I say, my voice low but steady. “That’s why we took the risk to come here. It was his idea—because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Bet he regrets that now.”

Her brow furrows, her lips parting as if to argue, but she hesitates. Instead, she says softly, “You talk about him like he’s alive.”

“That’s because he is,” I reply firmly. “I know he is. I can feel him, Enid. It’s not some vague hope or wishful thinking—it’s real. I can feel his heartbeat. His pain. And that’s why I have to get out of here and get back to him.”

Enid exhales sharply, running a hand through her tangled hair. “You sound crazy, Tilda,” she mutters. “You’re talking like some kind of lovesick rebel.”

“Maybe I am crazy,” I snap, my voice rising, “but not because of Reyes. It’s because you—” I stop, forcing myself to take a breath before my anger spirals out of control. “It’s because you let me get locked up in here for six straight days, Enid. Six days of sitting in this cell while Patrick does whatever the hell he wants.”

My glare burns into her as I cross my arms over my chest, lifting my chin defiantly. Enid flinches, hunching her shoulders like a scolded child. She chews on her lower lip, worrying at it until I see the faintest smear of blood. The sight makes my stomach twist, but I don’t let up. She needs to hear this.

“You could have done something,” I say, my voice softer now but no less cutting. “You could’ve told Patrick to stop. You could’ve stood up for me, fought for me like I’ve fought for you your entire life. But instead, you let them keep me here. Why?”

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she shakes her head as if to ward them off. “I didn’t know what to do,” she whispers. “Patrick’s in charge, Tilda. I’m just…I’m just trying to survive, same as you.”

“Surviving isn’t enough,” I say, the bitterness in my voice undeniable. “Not when it means letting the people you care about suffer.”

She wipes at her eyes, her lip trembling. “You don’t understand. I tried, okay? I tried to talk to Patrick, to get him to listen. But he wouldn’t. He says you’re dangerous now, that you’ve been turned into one of them.”

“‘One of them,’” I echo bitterly. “He doesn’t know the first thing about me, and neither do you if you believe him.”

“I don’t believe him,” she says quickly, her voice breaking. “But…I don’t know who you are anymore, Tilda. You left, and now you’re back, and everything’s different. I’m scared.”

Her confession hangs in the air between us, heavy and raw. For a moment, my anger ebbs, replaced by a wave of guilt and sadness. I hate that I’ve made her feel this way—that I’ve left her adrift in a world that’s already so hard to navigate. But I can’t let her fear control the narrative anymore.

“I’m still your sister,” I say, my voice softening. “I always will be. But if you want to know who I am now, you have to trust me. Trust that I’m telling you the truth about Reyes, about the pack, about everything.”

Enid hesitates, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to decide if she can believe me. “And if I do?” she asks quietly. “What happens then?”

“Then we figure this out together,” I say. “But first, you have to let me out of here.”

She looks away, biting her lip again, but this time she doesn’t argue. Maybe she’s starting to see the cracks in Patrick’s control—or maybe she’s just realizing how much she’s missed having her sister by her side. Either way, it feels like progress, and I cling to it like a lifeline.

“All you have to do is open the door,” I say. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her answer is unexpected, and it hits me harder than I’d like.

“But you’ll leave me,” she whispers.

Enid stands before me, shoulders tense, her frame silhouetted against the fading light. She’s twenty now—an adult—but she still carries the fragility of someone who’s been protected their whole life. I’ve done everything I could to shield her, to prepare her for a world that doesn’t care if you’re ready or not. And now, here we are.

I push myself off the cot, walking toward her slowly, and reach for her hands. They’re cold, trembling slightly as I take them in mine. We’re the same height, but she feels so much smaller. Reedy. Breakable. She hasn’t had the chance to grow into the kind of strength she’ll need, but I have to believe she will.

She has to.

“Then come with me,” I tell her softly, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “Meet me by the fence. We’ll go together. The pack would welcome you.”

Her lips tremble as she swallows hard, her resolve wavering. “Tilda, I can’t go there,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too…I don’t trust them. I’m sorry, I know you want me to—but I just can’t.”

I feel myself choking up too, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Then you need to let me leave,” I say. “If you don’t…we’ll be separated anyway. You can see that, right?”

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