Chapter 238 238
Sabine POV
I refuse to go downstairs. I can’t sit across a table from them again, pretending any of this is normal.
Yes, I’m starving hollowed out by days of barely eating but hunger is easier to endure than them. Than the weight of their eyes.
Even Maurice.
And that’s the worst part.
There’s something there. A pull I don’t understand, an attraction I don’t want to acknowledge. But it’s ridiculous. He’s too old for me. He has to be Damien’s age twenty-four, maybe older and I’m only eighteen. Six years is a lifetime. I haven’t lived yet. I haven’t experienced anything at all, while he carries himself like someone who’s seen too much of the world. Too much of women.
He oozes confidence.
What could I possibly offer someone like that?
What have I done? What mess have I stumbled into? And Father what is he going to say? What is he going to do?
I still can’t believe any of this is real. A hidden world. Werewolves. Packs. Power plays.
And I’m supposed to be one of them?
Yes, Geneviève had always had a vicious streak I’d felt that cruelty myself but murdering Aurélie’s parents in a calculated attack? Framing Damien for it? Kidnapping an innocent child as part of some twisted power game?
It all feels too much. Too unreal. Too convenient.
I’ve always believed in what I can see. What I know. And all I saw was Stéphane chained in a cell, broken and bleeding, very real pain etched into his face.
I pace the bedroom floor, back and forth, over and over. They must hear my footsteps downstairs. I should eat. I know I should. It might be the last proper meal I get for a while.
But I can’t eat their food.
If what they’re saying is true, they should hate me. I’m Gaston’s daughter. I should be locked in those cells beside Stéphane, shouldn’t I? They should despise me.
Unless
Unless I’m being used too.
Held as leverage. A bargaining chip. A ransom in flesh and blood.
I don’t know who to trust anymore.
The thought screams through my mind as I clutch at my hair, panic tightening my chest. The safety of my apartment feels like a lifetime ago. A different existence entirely.
I tell myself again that I should eat but the truth doesn’t change. If what they’re saying is real, I don’t belong at their table. I belong behind bars.
No.
To hell with that.
I’m my own woman. I won’t rot in a cell like Stéphane, and I won’t be dragged into a power war between packs and alliances and my father. They claim he used me for my money but he was never cruel to me. Domineering, yes. Controlling. But never cruel.
And if this secret world is the one he ruled once… then maybe that’s why he hid me away so fiercely.
They’re all eating together now. Which means this is my chance.
I open the bedroom window and peer down at the grass below.
Okay shit. That’s high.
But there’s a drainpipe running down the side of the house. I could use it. Probably. Hopefully.
It should hold my weight.
I haven’t eaten much lately anyway.
I swing my legs out, heart hammering, already regretting the decision as my hands clamp onto the cold metal pipe. Slowly, carefully, I lower myself down, inch by inch, my arms shaking with effort.
The moment my feet hit the ground, a wild surge of pride rushes through me.
I crouch low and move along the side of Damien’s house, hugging the shadows, keeping my head down as I skirt past neighboring properties. I avoid the main gravel path, sticking to the trees.
Seriously how much land does he own?
In the distance, I can see the outline of one of the gates we drove through earlier. Armed men still stand watch.
Was it always guarded like this?
Think, Sabine. Think.
Through the trees.
The voice cuts through my thoughts clear, firm, inside my head.
Instead of panicking about it, about the way it feels right, I decide to listen. It makes sense.
I bolt into the trees, stumbling more than once in the darkness, branches clawing at my clothes. Somewhere ahead, I hear traffic a road. Civilization. Freedom.
I head toward it then stop dead in a small, half-lit clearing.
Eyes.
Glowing eyes stare back at me from the darkness.
Fear slams into me so hard I almost choke. My body begins to shake, goosebumps rippling across my skin as those unblinking gazes track my every breath.
“We can’t let you leave!” someone shouts.
Guards.
Of course there are guards. Everywhere.
“I’m free to go wherever I want!” I shout back, though my voice comes out rough, cracked with fear and adrenaline.
And even as I say it, I realize I’m not sure anymore if it’s true.