Chapter 7 Sanctuary Under Siege
1305 Words
I drove like a maniac.
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I wove through the New York traffic, ignoring honking horns and red lights. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs—a drumbeat of pure terror.
They found us. They found us.
The thought played on a loop in my mind. Five years of hiding. Five years of looking over my shoulder. And it had taken Damien Blackwood less than forty-eight hours to track me to my doorstep.
I screeched to a halt in front of my apartment building, throwing the keys to the stunned valet. "Keep it running!" I yelled, kicking off my high heels so I could run faster.
I didn't wait for the elevator. I sprinted up the three flights of stairs, my wolf instinct fueling my legs. I could smell them before I saw them.
The scent of intruders. Pine, musk, and the sterile smell of gunpowder.
I burst into the hallway of the third floor.
Three men in black suits stood outside my apartment door. They were big—too big to be human. Their posture was rigid, their hands clasped in front of them, but I saw the bulge of holsters under their jackets.
They were Blackwood enforcers. Wolves.
"Get away from my door!" I roared, my voice echoing off the walls.
The men turned in unison. The one in the middle, a towering man with a scar running through his eyebrow, stepped forward. I recognized him immediately. Marcus. Damien’s head of security. He had been there the night I was rejected.
Would he recognize me?
I straightened my spine, channeling every ounce of "Ms. Vance" I had. I couldn't be the frightened Omega. I had to be the CEO.
"Ms. Vance," Marcus said, his voice deep and gravelly. He didn't bow, but he nodded respectfully. He didn't seem to recognize the Omega girl from five years ago. Good. My disguise was holding.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, marching up to him until I was inches from his chest. "And why are you terrorizing my nanny?"
"Mr. Blackwood sent us," Marcus replied calmly. "He was concerned when you left the gala so abruptly. He wanted to ensure you arrived home safely."
"I am fine," I spat. "Now leave."
Marcus didn't move. He sniffed the air. I froze.
"We have orders to secure the perimeter," Marcus said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the door. "Mr. Blackwood insists we check the apartment for any potential threats. Protocol."
"There are no threats here except you," I hissed. "My son is sleeping. If you wake him up, I will sue your boss for every penny he has."
"We just need to look inside, Ma'am. A quick sweep." Marcus reached for the door handle.
"No!"
I shoved his hand away. The contact sent a jolt of static through my arm. Marcus looked at me, surprised by my strength.
"You are trespassing," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "This is a private residence. If you enter, I call the police. And the press. 'Billionaire sends goons to harass single mother.' How do you think that headline will look for Blackwood Corp?"
Marcus hesitated. He was a warrior, not a PR crisis manager.
"Fine," he grumbled, stepping back. "We will remain in the hallway. Mr. Blackwood’s orders are to protect you. We stay until he says otherwise."
"You—" I bit back a curse. I couldn't fight three trained warrior wolves. Not here. Not without blowing my cover.
"Stay in the hallway then," I snapped. "But if I hear a single sound, I’m calling 911."
I jammed my key into the lock, my hands shaking uncontrollably, and pushed the door open. I slipped inside and slammed it shut, engaging all three deadbolts.
"Clara!"
Sarah came running from the kitchen, her face tear-stained. She was holding a frying pan as a weapon.
"Are they gone?" she whispered, trembling.
"They're outside," I whispered back, leaning against the door, my legs finally giving out. I slid down to the floor. "They're guarding the door. We're trapped."
"Oh my god," Sarah dropped the pan. "What do they want?"
"They want to know who I am," I said, closing my eyes. Then, my eyes snapped open. "Where is Leo?"
"He's in his room," Sarah pointed. "I told him we were playing a game called 'Super Quiet Mouse'."
I scrambled up and ran to Leo’s bedroom.
The room was dark, illuminated only by a small nightlight shaped like a rocket ship. Leo was sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by pillows, clutching his favorite stuffed wolf.
When he saw me, his face lit up.
"Mommy! You look like a princess!" he whispered, pointing to my green gown.
I rushed over and scooped him into my arms, burying my face in his neck. He smelled of baby shampoo, milk... and Alpha.
The scent was getting stronger as he grew older. To a human, he just smelled like a boy. But to the wolves standing outside that door? If they focused, if they caught a drift of air from under the door... they would smell Damien’s bloodline.
"Mommy, why are you crying?" Leo asked, wiping a tear from my cheek with his chubby thumb. "Are the bad men outside?"
"No, baby," I choked out, forcing a smile. "Just... guards. Like in your storybooks. But we need to play a trick on them."
I carried him into the bathroom. I needed to mask his scent.
I grabbed a bottle of Velvet Scent—the heavy, floral prototype I had rejected yesterday. I sprayed it into the air, filling the small apartment with an overpowering cloud of jasmine and tuberose.
"Phew! Stinky!" Leo giggled, pinching his nose.
"It's magic fog," I said, kissing his forehead. "Leo, listen to me. We are going to go on a trip. Tomorrow. But tonight, you have to be very, very quiet. You can't go near the front door. Okay?"
Leo nodded solemnly. "Okay, Mommy."
I put him back to bed, waiting until his breathing evened out into sleep.
I walked back to the living room where Sarah was pacing.
"Sarah," I said quietly. "Pack a bag. Just essentials."
"We're leaving?"
"We can't leave through the door," I said, glancing at the peephole. I could see the distorted shape of Marcus standing guard. "Damien has us under siege."
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I picked it up. An unknown number.
I knew who it was before I answered.
"Hello?"
"You ran away, Clara," Damien’s voice came through the speaker, dark and smooth like velvet wrapped around a knife. "It's becoming a habit."
"I didn't run," I said, gripping the phone so hard the screen threatened to crack. "I went home to my sick child. And now I have your goons standing outside my apartment."
"They are there for your protection," Damien said. "New York can be dangerous at night."
"Call them off, Damien."
"No," he said simply. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Clara. We have a contract to sign. And I think it's time I met this... son of yours."
My heart stopped.
"He's sick," I repeated the lie.
"Then I'll bring soup," Damien replied, his tone teasing but with an underlying edge of steel. "Sleep tight, Ms. Vance."
The line went dead.
I looked at Sarah. My eyes burned with a fierce, primal determination.
"He thinks he has me trapped," I whispered.
I walked to the window and looked down at the fire escape alleyway. It was narrow, dark, and dangerous.
"But he forgot one thing," I said, turning back to Sarah. "I’m not just a CEO. I’m a mother."
I went to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag.
"We aren't waiting for morning," I told Sarah. "We leave tonight."
- Writer
