Episode5
787 Words
CHAPTER FIVE
~~FREYA ASHWOOD~|
Beatrice was standing by the car, her arms crossed, her face a mask of pinched irritation.
She didn't look like a mother losing a child, she looked like a landlord finally getting rid of a bad tenant.
"You just have to make a fool of yourself every single time, don't you? It's sickening," she spat.
My mate finally set me on my feet, but his hand remained clamped on my arm. "Get in," he ordered. The warmth I’d felt in the woods was gone, replaced by a jagged, impatient edge.
I scrambled into the back seat, only to realize the trap was already full.
Sitting there, bathed in the dim dome light of the SUV, were the other two. The silver-haired eldest and the golden-eyed savior who had left me in the dirt.
"I see you have a knack for making things more difficult than they need to be." Golden eyed Saviour said, his jaw set in a line so hard it looked carved from granite.
I instinctively reached into my pocket for the leather bracelet. My heart dropped into my stomach. Empty. It was gone.
The only piece I had painstakingly managed to build. A whimper climbed up my throat, but I choked it back. I couldn’t afford to call more attention to myself.
The engine roared to life. My mate took the wheel, and we pulled away from the only home I remembered, heading toward the one I had tried to forget.
The silence was loud, deafening, almost felt suffocating.
My silver haired brother, the one who looked most like our father, had his arms crossed over a chest that seemed too broad for the seat. He's the only one who still hasn't addressed me.
In the middle, "my savior" stared straight ahead.
My attention shifted to my mate. My wolf was not making it any easier for me.
"Mate" she purred for the umpteenth time in a few minutes.
I bit hard on my lower lips. How could the moon goddess be so cruel? To tie my soul to the son of the man who wished I had never drawn my first breath?
Does he feel the same way too? Cursed for having a step sister he never acknowledged as a mate? I stole a glance at the rearview mirror. His eyes were fixed on the road, his knuckles White as he gripped the steering wheel. The tension visible in his shoulders had me wondering.
"Stop fidgeting," the silver haired brother snapped, his grey eyes finally cutting to mine. "Your pulse is racing loud enough to give me a migraine. Keep your heart rate down, or I'll put you in the trunk."
"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, shrinking until I felt the cold leather of the door.
He scoffed, a brutal, short sound. "I wonder how the welcome will be. Do you think Father will roll out a red carpet for the girl who killed his Luna? Or will he just skip the formalities and put you in the cellar?"
The words were a physical blow. "I didn't kill her," I choked out, my voice trembling.
"Tell that to the Alpha," he replied coldly, turning his gaze back to the window.
As we crossed the border into the Crescent Pack lands, the memories hit me like a flood. I remembered the day the "loving" father died and the "Alpha" was born. I remembered him throwing my dolls into the furnace, the smell of melting plastic filling the manor. I remembered him gripping my six-year-old shoulders, his eyes wild with grief and accusation as he pushed me toward the gates. Don't come back, Freya. You're a curse.
The car pulled to a halt in front of the manor. A sprawling, gothic fortress that made my heart race faster. It looked exactly the same, a beautiful tomb for my childhood.
"Out. Now," My mate ordered.
I didn't move. My boots felt like they were made of lead. If I stepped onto that gravel, I was accepting my fate as a prisoner.
"Freya! You've caused enough scenes tonight. Don't make me drag you."
I stayed frozen, staring at the grand oak doors. Suddenly, the door beside me was ripped open. The cold night air rushed in, biting at my skin.
The Golden eyed Saviour didn't wait for an answer.
He reached in, his large, calloused hand clamping around my upper arm.
He hauled me out, my feet skidding on the gravel. I stumbled, my knees buckling, but he caught me, jerking me upright with terrifying strength. His fingers dug into my flesh, marking me before I even stepped inside.
"Please," I whispered, the first tear finally escaping. "Don't make me go in there."
- Writer
