Chapter 5
1339 Words
Gwen
The trees blurred around me as I ran.
My paws tore into the earth, claws kicking up leaves and dirt, but no matter how fast I moved, I couldn’t escape the image burned into my brain.
Justin.
Between her thighs.
His voice—low, reverent—saying, “Mine.”
The way their scents wrapped around each other like a vow.
The way he had held me only hours before with the same hands, kissed me under the moonlight, looked into my eyes and promised I was special.
I ran until the sun was high, until my muscles screamed and my vision blurred. I shifted back and screamed into the silence, voice cracking like the fault lines in my heart.
Then I shifted again.
And ran some more.
I must have crossed the river twice, circled back past the old hunting cabin, veered off near the ruins where the elders once held moon ceremonies. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I’d feel it all.
I didn’t want to feel.
Not the shame.
Not the betrayal.
Not the echo of his hands on my skin.
The forest swallowed my sobs. The sky shifted from gold to gray. I collapsed near a fallen pine, my body too exhausted to shift again, my breath coming in gasps.
Akira was silent. She hadn’t spoken since the kitchen.
And that scared me most of all.
I pressed my forehead to the dirt. Closed my eyes. And unbidden, a memory surfaced—sharp, stupid, and clear.
She had been stocking the flour bins, quietly humming to herself.
I’d come in through the back of the kitchens to grab a roll before training, and she startled when I said her name.
“Olivia, right?”
She turned, tucking a blonde strand back under her braid. “Yes, Beta Gwen.”
“Just Gwen,” I said, smiling. “I hate the title thing.”
She smiled softly, shyly—her blue eyes wide, almost too big for her delicate face. Her skin was pale and smooth, like fresh cream. She looked… gentle. Breakable.
Her scent was light. Something sweet and warm, like fresh bread and lavender soap. Comforting. Nonthreatening.
I remember wondering what it would be like to be her—someone who could disappear quietly, who didn’t carry expectations on her shoulders like stones. I never imagined she’d be the reason my world would collapse.
But fate is cruel like that.
“Gwen!”
The voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
I blinked up as Jordan stumbled into the clearing, her face pale and drawn.
“Oh thank the goddess,” she breathed, dropping to her knees beside me. “You’ve been gone all day. It’s almost dinner. What the hell happened?”
I wanted to tell her. Wanted to pour it all out.
But the words stuck.
“I thought he was mine,” I whispered.
She didn’t ask who.
She just wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. Her hoodie smelled like coffee and firewood and home.
“I’ve got you,” she said.
And for a moment—I believed her.
Terrance, my father, was waiting at the door.
He didn’t speak as I walked past him, mud-caked and hollow-eyed.
Not until Jordan disappeared upstairs.
Then his voice cut sharp and cold.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
I said nothing.
“Gone all day. No check-ins. No messages. You think that’s acceptable behavior for a Beta’s daughter?”
Still, I stayed quiet.
“I heard you were with Justin last night. Is that where you ran off to again this morning?”
I flinched.
“That boy,” he spat, pacing now, “has always had too much power and not enough sense. And you—you’re supposed to be smarter than this.”
I looked up slowly. “You knew what he wanted.”
He stopped moving. “What?”
“You knew. You encouraged it. You let it happen.”
“I let you make your own decisions. You made a poor one.”
“No,” I said, voice rising. “You pushed me toward him.”
His jaw clenched.
“Don’t look surprised,” I continued. “All those times you reminded me how ‘valuable’ I was. How a mating bond with the Alpha’s son would ‘secure our legacy.’ You practically handed me over.”
“I gave you guidance,” he snapped. “Positioning you with Justin was strategy. You think this pack survives on feelings? On love?”
“I think you used me,” I said, voice shaking now. “Every time you looked at me, you saw a bargaining chip. A vessel. Never a daughter.”
“That’s not fair,” he growled.
“You made it clear who you wanted me to be: quiet, beautiful, useful. Mate to the next Alpha. Someone you could control through bloodlines.”
“I protected this family,” he said coldly. “If you’d stayed focused instead of chasing some romantic fantasy—”
I stepped toward him, eyes burning. “I wasn’t chasing fantasy. I was chasing truth. You’re the one living in fiction. You think Justin was going to save this pack? He can’t even control his own urges.”
“Watch your tone.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to order me anymore.”
His hands curled into fists, but he didn’t move.
“I gave him everything,” I whispered. “And you pushed me to it.”
He turned away, as if that would shield him from the truth of it.
I didn’t give him the chance to speak again.
I walked out—heart splintered, breath tight—but freer than I’d ever felt under his roof.
Jordan was waiting in my room, already curled under my blankets with a mug of tea in her hands. She passed it to me without a word.
“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely.
She frowned. “Don’t.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were hopeful,” she corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
I curled up beside her, the blanket tucked under my chin.
“I thought waiting for my mate would protect me,” I whispered. “I thought it would mean something.”
“It should’ve.”
I stared at the ceiling. My body ached. My chest felt carved out, empty.
“I can’t go back to being what they want me to be,” I said.
Jordan turned her head to look at me. “Then don’t.”
I let the silence stretch for a while, sipping the tea until it was lukewarm in my hands.
Then I said it, softly but sure:
“I want to move out.”
Jordan blinked. “Like... now?”
“Soon,” I said. “I can’t breathe in this house anymore. Every room has his voice in it—my father’s. Every hallway reminds me I’m not really free.”
Her eyes softened. “You want to stay with me?”
“Only if it’s okay,” I said, suddenly unsure. “Just for a while. Until I figure things out.”
She scoffed gently. “You even have to ask? Gwen, yes. Obviously, yes. Stay as long as you need.”
A breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding slipped out of me.
“I think it’s the only way I’ll be able to hear myself think again.”
Jordan nudged me gently with her elbow. “We’ll turn my place into a no-Alpha, no-bullshit zone.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips. “That sounds perfect.”
“I’m serious,” she added. “We’ll hang sage in the windows. Salt the door. Ward off all asshole energy.”
I let myself laugh, just a little. It felt rusty—but real.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She rested her head on mine. “Always.”
- Writer
