Chapter 26 Chapter 26
Anya’s POV
His gaze was flat, "You're... fine?" he repeated, his voice quiet, as if he couldn't possibly have heard me correctly.
I nodded, my hands twisting in the blankets, the words spilling out in a desperate, panicked rush. "Yes. I'm fine. See? You... you healed my throat. It's fine. There's no need for you to go to her."
I looked down, unable to meet his intense stare. "A-And... it was my fault, anyway."
He just stared at me.
"I... I came here," I stammered, the lie sounding thin and ridiculous even to my own ears. "I'm... I'm the one who delayed her coronation, right? B-Because... because your attention is all on me now. So, she... she was just angry. So... It's... it's my fault."
"Your fault?" he repeated, his voice softening just a fraction. "None of this was your fault, Anya. You didn't choose this life. This life... it chose you."
I stared at him, biting my lower lip, and dropped my gaze to the floor. Without another word, he turned and was gone, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
What is he going to do to her? I was so nervous my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and looked around the opulent, empty chamber.
What now? Am I just supposed to... stay here? Wait for him?
Suddenly, a swell of noise came from the main courtyard below. Loud horses, men shouting orders, a general, chaotic chatter, and... was that music? Guests? At this hour? What's going on?
A sudden, electrifying thought shot through me. He'll be busy. Everyone will be busy. This was it. This was my chance. Could I finally escape? Could I take Carla with me?
I didn't hesitate. I looked around the room—his things, not mine. I had nothing. I grabbed the heavy coat he had left on the floor—the one he'd used to cover me—and bundled the tattered, torn rags of my old dress inside it. Heart pounding, I crept out of the Alpha's chamber.
I practically ran to the kitchens, my bare feet silent on the stone. As I'd hoped, the massive room was completely empty.
Everyone was outside, drawn by the commotion.
No, not everyone.
I saw a lone figure hunched over by the washbasins. Carla. She was alone, wincing as she pressed a damp cloth full of herbs to the growing, purple bruise on her temple where Beatrice had slammed her head.
I rushed toward her, and she spun around, her eyes wide with terror. "Anya! What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be with the Alpha!"
"Carla," I whispered, my voice urgent, grabbing her hands. "Do you want to escape? With me? Right now."
She stared at me, her eyes searching mine. I could see the terror warring with a sudden, desperate spark of excitement. She didn't hesitate for more than a second. Her gaze hardened.
"Yes," she said.
She dropped the cloth, grabbed a satchel, and began frantically shoving bread, cheese, and dried meat into it. "Let's go. It's the perfect time. Everyone is gathering in the Great Hall. It's... it's Lady Beatrice's birthday."
Beatrice's birthday. The irony was so bitter it almost made me laugh.
"The back exit," I said, nodding toward the small door we'd used before. "The one by the gardens."
"Good," Carla said, slinging the satchel over her shoulder and grabbing my hand. "Let's go."
The back exit was unguarded, just as we'd hoped. The entire pack's attention was focused on the front courtyard, on Beatrice's celebration.
We didn't walk. We fled.
We ran, crashing through the undergrowth, driven by very heart-pounding terror. We didn't dare speak. The only sounds were our ragged gasps for air and the snap of twigs under our feet.
We ran until my lungs felt like they were on fire and my legs were about to give out.
"Carla... wait," I finally choked out, collapsing against a large oak tree. I was bent over, my hands on my knees, sucking in painful, desperate breaths.
I looked back, my eyes straining in the twilight. "I... I can't see the fortress. I think... I think we're far enough."
Carla didn't even look winded. She grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with a panic that hadn't faded in the slightest.
"Far?!" she hissed, her voice a terrified whisper. "Anya, 'far' is a hundred miles away. We've been running for ten minutes. We're still on his land!"
She tugged me, hard. "They are werewolves. Their hearing, their smell... The second Kai realizes you're gone, he won't 'search' for you. He will hunt you. We have to keep moving. Now."
She started running again, pulling me with her.
My human legs were screaming, and I knew, with a certainty, that I couldn't keep this up.
"I can't!" I sobbed, stumbling over a root and almost bringing us both down. "Carla, I can't! He'll catch us. On foot, we're dead." I looked at her, my mind racing, desperate. "We need... we need a horse. We need to ride, not run."
Carla was about to argue when she suddenly froze, pulling me behind a large boulder. "Shh!"
I held my breath. At first, I heard nothing. Then... a faint sound. A horse whinnying.
She pointed through the dense trees. I could just make out a pinprick of light. A small clearing. A lone house.
We crept closer, moving from tree to tree, until we could see it clearly. It was a small woodcutter's cottage, with a plume of smoke rising from the chimney.
And in a small, rough-fenced paddock next to it stood three horses, their heads bowed as they grazed in the dusk.
My heart leaped, but a wave of guilt immediately followed. "Carla... we... we can't just steal one."
Carla looked at me as if I were insane. "They have three, Anya," she said, her voice a low, hard whisper. "And we have none. It's a woodcutter's house. They won't starve if they lose one horse. We will die if we don't."
She gripped my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her eyes were sharp with a terrifying, pragmatic fear.
"Are you going to let 'stealing' be the reason that Alpha drags you back to his bed? Because he will find us if we're on foot. I'm taking one. You can either come with me, or you can wait here for him."