Chapter 63 CHAPTER 63
Chapter 63 CHAPTER 63
We burst into a small clearing surrounded by ancient pines trees. The wolf slowed, jaws finally loosening.
I dropped to the mossy ground in a crumpled heap. My knees slammed down hard, I groaned biting my lower lip.
I crawled forward a few feet on shaking limbs, chest heaving, leaves and dirt sticking to my bloodied palms and bare feet.
The dress hung in ruined tatters, dark with dirt, sweat, and blood. Tears were effortlessly flowing down on my face without me even making a small sound.
The wolf shifted behind me. Bones cracked and popped sickeningly as limbs reformed, heavy breathing filled the air.
When I glanced back, the scarred man stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes still glowing with faint amber light.
His hands still too large, veins standing out along corded forearms flexed at his sides.
Two more wolves emerged from the shadows, partially shifted, one limping with a deep gash across his thigh that left a trail of blood on the feet.
The scarred one stepped forward and gripped my uninjured arm, hauling me upright.
His skin burned hot against mine. “Please put some clothes on.” I cried out awkwardly, he ignored my pleas for him to remove his dick from me.
My legs trembled but held. He pulled me close, one arm locking around my waist like iron.
My bare feet dragged over stones as he began moving us deeper into the trees.
Blood continued to drip from my shoulder, small dark spots on the forest floor behind us. ‘I hope they can track me,’ was my last prayer.
The last traces of the fight had vanished completely.
My throat stayed tight, pulse still hammering against the wolf’s forearm where it pressed to my side.
I blinked slowly, the ceiling above me swimming into focus as a dull throb pulsed through my temples.
This is not my bed and this ceiling does not look familiar.
This is not the thin mattress in the safe house with its familiar creak every time I shift.
My fingers twitched against the cloth, tracing the hard edge of a duvet that wasn’t mine.
My tongue felt thick and swollen, I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room.
Bandages wrapped my left forearm, tight , pressing against my skin pain jolting across my body with even the slightest movement.
Another strip of bandage circled my ribs under the unfamiliar grey cotton shirt I now wore loose, clean, not the torn red dress I was wearing when I was violently abducted by a group of werewolves.
My legs, bare below the knees under soft pants, carried fresh gauze on the shin where the scrape had been raw and stinging.
I pushed myself up, elbows sinking into the mattress.
The room was dim, light filtering through heavy curtains the color of storm clouds.
Wooden floors gleamed faintly under a thin rug. A single chair stood in the corner. No pictures on the walls, just plain beige paint.
A small table held a glass of water. The air carried a trace of pine cleaner and the faint mustiness of a closed space.
My bare feet met the floor, toes curling at the coolness. I crossed to the door, heart knocking steadily against my ribs as I gripped the handle.
It turned but stopped short with a solid click. It’s locked. I rattled it harder, metal biting into my palm, the knob cold and unyielding.
My breath came quicker now, shallow pulls that barely filled my lungs. I moved to the windows, yanking the curtains aside.
The glass was thick, double-paned, sealed tight. There was no familiar landmarks, no street I recognized.
The window latch refused to budge. My knuckles whitened as I pushed, a faint squeak of wood the only response.
What if he had found me? Dragged me here after the alley, planning to kill
me and feast on my blood with his friends. The thought clawed its way up, tightening the muscles along my neck.
My pulse thrummed in my ears, a rapid flutter that made the bandages on my arm feel tighter.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, breath fogging a small circle. I paced back to the bed, feeling the rise and fall of my chest quicken.
I suddenly heard footsteps in the hall outside slow and deliberate. The lock clicked, and I heard the key turning.
I froze, spine straightening, shoulders squared despite the pull of sore muscles. The door swung open.
Branden stepped in, filling the frame. His broad shoulders brushed the sides as he entered, dark hair tousled, jaw set in a hard line.
His eyes met mine, heavy-lidded and shadowed, the look dragging over me like a slow scrape of stone.
He closed the door behind him with a soft thud, the sound final in the quiet space. No smile, no familiar tilt of his head. Just that steady, dark gaze that pinned me where I stood.
I stayed rooted, feet planted on the rug, arms loose at my sides though my fingers curled inward.
The air between us thickened, carrying the faint scent of his leather jacket.
“Why would you do this to me, Branden?” I asked my voice shaky.
My breathing steadied into deliberate inhales, nostrils flaring slightly as I held position near the bed’s edge. Is he going to kill me or just kiss me?
“Why?” His voice came low, rough around the edges. He didn’t move closer at first, just watched.
“Why risk it all for Alex? That thing hunting you it’s dangerous. You know that. Yet you keep stepping outside, keep putting yourself in its path.”
I stared at him, confusion blooming in the slight tilt of my head. Alex? The name landed wrong, twisting something in my gut.
Branden’s boots scuffed the floor as he took a step, then another. He paced now, from the door to the window and back, his strides eating up the small space.
The floorboards creaked under his weight, a rhythmic protest. His hands flexed at his sides, knuckles brushing his thighs, then clenching again.
Mumbled words slipped from his lips too low to catch fully, fragments like dissolving into breaths that hissed through his teeth.
“Well since you can’t take care of yourself. I have found a way to keep you safe, I will lock you in here. You are mine after-all, I have every right to keep you here.“
I shifted my weight, one foot sliding back an inch, but I didn’t retreat.
“I’m not yours, I was never yours. You are a married man and you chose your wife.” My mouth felt dry, the metallic taste returning as I swallowed.
Branden’s pacing continued, shoulders hunched forward slightly on each turn, his dark look flickering with something restless. “You are mine, not his.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down his stubbled jaw, then dropped it abruptly.
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck, my tongue pressing against the roof of my mouth.
He stopped pacing for a moment, turning fully toward me. His chest rose and fell in heavier pulls.
“Do you know how many bodies I had to bury today because of you?” He asked staring at me as if I should ask him for the number. “That should show you how much I love you.”
“What bodies?” I asked unsure how will he react to my question. “You have never even told me you love me, yet you think killing someone innocent will make think you love me?”
The confusion settled heavier, making my brow furrow as I studied the lines of his face the way his eyes darted to the window, then back to me, never quite resting. “Branden, can I go home, please.”
His left hand tapped against his thigh in an uneven rhythm.
I breathed in slowly through my nose, catching the faint metallic edge under his usual scent, like blood on metal or old coins. The room felt smaller with him in it.
He resumed pacing, boots thudding softer now but faster, the mumbling growing audible in snatches.
“Should have stayed inside locked- safe… but no, she has to—” He cut himself off with a sharp exhale, shoulders rolling back as if shaking off a weight.
His gaze returned to me, darker still, brows drawn low. I remained standing, chin level.