Origins Unknown

The room was dimly lit, shadows casting themselves across the walls in long, jagged lines that gave the entire space a cold, unwelcoming atmosphere. The air was thick, almost suffocating, carrying with it the pungent scent of expensive cologne mingled with something far less pleasant, something I’d grown all too familiar with over these past several years. Jordan leaned in close, his face hovering only inches from mine, and I could see that glint in his eyes—that dark, predatory gleam I knew so well, one that always made my stomach twist. His hands found their way to my waist, fingers pressing into my skin as though to remind me of the control he thought he had, as if he could somehow absorb the power, he craved just by gripping me tighter. He pulled me toward him, close enough that his breath was warm against my cheek, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was savoring each word as it dripped from his mouth, “you are a good f**k for a human—really good, even for a human to a wolf. I’m talking a good fuck.” His words lingered in the air, heavy with the strange mixture of praise and possessiveness that always managed to make my skin crawl. There was something about the way he spoke, that casual arrogance, as if he thought I should be flattered, as if I should take his words as a compliment. But I’d heard it all before, and this was just another part of the routine. Another line I’d learned to ignore. “Thanks,” I replied, keeping my voice cool, distant, and forcing a small smile that I knew he’d read as submission. Though I didn’t feel the need to react, didn’t feel the need to give him the satisfaction of seeing any response from me. I kept my eyes steady, focused on the task at hand—getting through this last session, getting out of here, and finally, moving on with my life. “But we need to discuss my final payment for our last session.” He leaned back slightly, that smug expression never leaving his face. He looked down at me with that all-too-familiar satisfaction in his eyes, as though he was relishing this moment, as if he held some kind of victory. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave me a slow, calculating smile that only deepened the sense of control he thought he had. “Ah…yes,” he drawled, like he was savoring the thought of it, drawing out every second as if it brought him some twisted sense of pleasure. “I was thinking triple what I’ve paid you thus far, for all our sessions. And double what the Christmas sessions cost.” His smile widened, self-satisfied, as though he was offering me a fortune, as if this was some grand gesture on his part and I should be endlessly grateful. “That will do.” I said it quickly, with no hesitation in my voice, though everything inside me screamed to get out of there. I didn’t let any of my internal turmoil show. Instead, I calmly pulled the NDA from my bag, sliding it across the table toward him. “Here. Sign this.” He paused, his gaze shifting to the document for a moment before he shrugged, as though it was just another formality. It was as if he understood that this was the price of doing business with me, and for once, I could tell that the thrill of his perceived power didn’t seem to excite him. With a flick of his fingers, he tapped out the agreed payment on his phone and, with a smug flourish, signed his name on the line. I quickly followed suit, signing my part without a second thought. I packed everything away into my bag, ready to leave without looking back, without even a hint of sentiment or farewell. And just like that, it was over. An hour later, I found myself standing under the steady, soothing heat of a hot shower in the comfort of my own apartment. Steam filled the small space, curling around me, and the water pounded down against my skin, washing away the last remnants of him, of that room, of everything I’d endured. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could finally breathe, the kind of deep, cleansing breath that reaches down to your core. I let the warmth envelop me, not just physically but mentally, as though it could scrub away every last trace of him, every whispered word, every lingering look, every touch that had lingered far too long. I was free. Free from the sessions. Free from his presence, from the weight of his arrogance and entitlement. Free from the charade I’d played for so long. I wasn’t just free of him; I was free from everything he represented. I was free from my father and mother. And all the pain they caused me. And as the realization dawned on me, I felt a weightlifting from my chest, a sense of relief I hadn’t felt in years. I wasn’t just free of him, but free from my families role in my life. I know what you’re probably thinking. I must be some kind of w***e, right? I can hear it, echoing in the back of your mind, that judgment I’ve felt from so many. But no, I wasn’t. I had been—up until now—his private escort. There’s a difference, a distinction I’d held onto, convincing myself that as my parents were the ones to set it up between us. I use the phrase ‘set it up’ very loosely, though. Was. That one word, that subtle shift in tense, was everything. It was a declaration, a finality that I couldn’t ignore. That last session with him—that vile, repulsive man, or rather, that wolf—was the end. No more sessions. No more of his twisted arrogance, his entitled smirk, his filthy words. I’d made enough, saved enough, to start fresh, to turn my back on all of it. I could feel the beginning of something entirely new now, something I’d barely allowed myself to dream of before: freedom. True freedom. I wasn’t just leaving behind one man; I was leaving behind a world I’d been bound to, a world that had held me captive far too long. The water continued to run over me, soaking through my hair, washing away the last vestiges of him, every lie, every transaction, every degrading moment. And as I stood there, letting the water cascade down, I knew with each passing second that this was the start of something better, something brighter. A future I could finally claim as my own. A life where I made the rules, where I defined my own path, free from anyone’s hold.