Page 21 of The Wild Moon
Chapter Thirteen
As it turned out, the Aldridges brought escape to me.
I guess my message aboutnevermating with Johnathan didn’t resonate with them. Perhaps they were mentally incapable of understanding just how much I hated him after the way he’d destroyed my family, dropping the little bomb about my parents adopting me in secret.
The worst part was, I knew they were right in a way. If I stayed with Johnathan, I would eventually forgive him. The Soulbond would see to that. Even now, I could feel it in the back of my skull, pulsing slowly, each gentle wave of golden happiness working to erase the burning fury I felt toward him. I could fight any physical torture these assholes tried, but this was something deeper, something more insidious.
I wonder if anyone else ever felt this way about their Soulbond? It’s supposed to be this wonderous thing, a time of magical happiness and alignment with another soul. But not for me. For me, it’s the toughest fight of my life.
The renewed grating of snores on my eardrums yanked me out of my little daydream. I glared daggers at the nearby bed where Johnathan was passed out, doing his best to wake the entire house in his sleep. I didnotmiss that, but for once, his snoring was useful.
After an unknown amount of time in the dark, dim cell, more of Lars’ minions had arrived. They’d trussed me up with rope and brought me to Johnathan’s room. Once there, they retied me to the chair, but they’d left my arms bound in front of me, my biceps tied to the thick metal chair—and what did it say that this insane family had multiple chairs seemingly built for this purpose?—but I could still bend my arms, bringing my wrists toward my face.
By dropping my face, I could bring the rope within range of my mouth. As Johnathan slept peacefully, I started chewing my bonds, strand by strand. It was a painfully slow process, but I fueled my patience with anger. Fuck these people for thinking they could control me. My brain was my own, and I wasn’t going to let them win.
A second presence made itself known as the room abruptly leaped into full clarity, my vision incredibly heightened beyond anything a human could see. The sounds of snoring became the ripsaw roars of a chainsaw as my brain filtered every sound through my suddenly acute hearing.
I grinned as my wolf lent me her strength. We chewed the bonds, biting deeper into the thick rope with every gnash of our teeth. Around us, the house slept, but we kept alert. Any noise could wake Johnathan, or worse, Lars. If we were going to do this, it had to be in utter silence. Together, we could escape.
Johnathan’s snores filled the room as he rolled onto his back.
By Vir, I don’t miss that shit, I thought, remembering the times I had slept over. “Slept” being a bit of a misnomer since I don’t know how anyone could handle that much noise and still pass out.
At least it was covering any sounds we made as we worked on our escape. We looked up constantly, ears pricking at the slightest of sounds. Someone was still awake in the house, somewhere. I’d heard footsteps at one point, but they hadn’t come near.
To the household, I was just a young, weak she-wolf. An easily intimidated woman who they could scare into submission with a few wrist restraints and threats of force.
As if I don’t love being tied up normally, I thought with a silent snort. They weren’t going to get their way with me. Fuck that.
Another strand parted under our teeth, and a low growl of success slipped out of my mouth as the bonds started to loosen. Success was closing in, and my wolf was getting antsier.
We must be quiet, I urged her, reasserting control from my human side, reminding her who was in charge.
The she-bitch didn’t like it, but she didn’t fight me either, remaining silent while lending me her enhanced senses so that we could do this together.
It would have been much easier simply to destroy the chair. Metal it may be, but it would still break if enough strength were applied to it. With my wolf, we could do it and be gone in a second or two. However, it would wake the entire house, so I had to go about it the slow and steady way.
I had to think about the future this time. There was far more to what I was doing besides freeing myself. I had to think aboutafter. Even as I made it through one braid of rope and wriggled my hands out of the rest, I was planning six steps ahead. After the rest of the rope was undone, I had to turn to the next stage of my escape.
Getting out of the house.
Rising to my feet, my wolf and I padded silently toward the door, moving as stealthily as we could. Now was not the time for sound either. After we got out of the house—and weweregoing to get out—my wolf and I had another challenge ahead of us. Perhaps the biggest one of all, and I needed as big a head start as possible to succeed in that.
Assured that nobody was waiting outside the door and that my “mate” was still soundly asleep, I opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. The added padding of the thick carpet running down the center of the hallway allowed me to move in near total silence. My eyes flicked around, remembering the layout of the giant mansion. With three levels and an abundance of rooms and corridors, it could easily become confusing to those who had never been there.
For once, my history with Johnathan was going to play into my hands, guiding me toward the nearest exit. I moved slower than I wanted, forcing myself to exercise restraint and caution well beyond whatseemednecessary. All it would take was one mistake, and the entire house would be after me. I couldn’t risk it. So, I moved with agonizing slowness, one step at a time, transferring my weight as cautiously as possible.
I passed by empty rooms on either side of the hallway, reminders of a time when Seguin was full of shifters instead of a town half-empty and boarded up. A time when we had been more than we were now. I wasn’t surewhythe pack had been shrinking, but the past day or so was beginning to give me an idea of why some might leave and never return.
I didn’t slow at any of the rooms, but just shy of the top of the stairs, I paused outside one. The door was marked with an intricate, painted scene straight out of our history books. It had always caught my attention, and it didn’t fail to now. The shifter god Vir, Champion of Amunlea, the Goddess of all shifters, kneeled on one knee, giving his word to the Goddess that he would fight to the very end in her name.
The scene was called “The Elevation,” and it represented the day Amunlea created Vir to be her Champion and general, the strongest god after herself. It was also supposedly the beginning of the fall of our species if one believed the old legends.
It’s why we curse the oath that Vir swore to her.
All the artifacts my father had retrieved for Lars sat behind that door. I’d seen many of them myself, and as such, I shouldn’t need to bother myself with more daydreams. I knew what was in there, from the many golden crowns to the jeweled pendant of Amunlea herself, supposedly, a glorious piece of jewelry. But it was knowing what was in there that made me pause.
It was a reminder of my father.
