CHAPTER FOUR: THE ESCAPE
1461 Words
I was at the kitchen table at six in the morning when headlights swept across the wall.
Too early for the movers. Too early for Reginald's lawyers. I stood up and looked through the gap in the curtain. A black car had parked across the street. The engine cut. Nobody got out.
He was early.
My bag was already packed. I had packed it the night before, after I got home from the community center, sitting on my bedroom floor sorting through what one year away from home actually looked like in physical terms. Two months of clothing. My toiletries. The paperback my father gave me the year I turned sixteen that I had never actually finished. A framed photo of my mother and Theo that I had wrapped in a sweater.
I left the bag by the front door and went back to the table.
Theo came downstairs at six-fifteen in his school sweatshirt, hair not yet combed, and stopped when he saw me.
"You're up early," he said.
"Couldn't sleep."
He opened the refrigerator and stared into it. He was sixteen and recently had the kind of growth spurt that left him permanently looking for something to eat. He pulled out last night's leftover rice and stood at the counter eating it cold with a spoon.
"Uncle Reginald called last night," he said.
I kept my face level. "What did he say?"
"He said he wanted to speak to you and Mom. That there was a family matter." He looked at me sideways. "What family matter?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"You always say that."
"Because I always handle it."
He ate more rice in silence. He was trying to be casual and not quite pulling it off. Theo had our mother's perceptiveness despite having no problem with his eyesight. He felt things in rooms before people said them out loud.
"Are you actually leaving today?" he said.
I looked at him.
"I saw the bag by the door," he said.
I set my coffee down. "Yes."
He put the container of rice on the counter. He did not say anything for a moment. Outside, a car door opened and closed. I heard footsteps on the front path before I heard the knock.
Three hard raps. The knock of someone who was certain of their welcome.
Theo started toward the door. I got there first.
I opened it.
Reginald was in a dark coat. A man stood behind him with a leather messenger bag, the kind lawyers carried. Another man stood at the base of the porch steps, hands clasped.
Reginald smiled. "Good morning, Mara. I'm glad you're dressed. We should talk before your mother wakes up."
"She's already awake," I said. "She's been awake since five."
Something shifted in his expression. "May I come in?"
"No."
His smile stayed but it thinned. "Mara. Don't make this unpleasant. I'm here to resolve the situation. We agreed to talk this morning."
"We agreed to nothing," I said. "You told me to think carefully. I did."
I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the folded document. It was six pages, heavy paper, the Silver Ridge pack seal embossed at the top. Luna Isabelle had handed it to me at midnight after the screening call. The preliminary contract. Not the final agreement, that would come after Damien's interview. But the preliminary letter of intent placed me under provisional pack protection for the purposes of the surrogate candidate process.
I held it out.
Reginald did not take it. He looked at it.
"What is that," he said.
"A letter of provisional protection from Alpha Damien Ashford of Silver Ridge. As a registered candidate in his surrogate contract, I fall under the jurisdiction of the inter-pack alliance agreement." I kept my voice completely even. "Under MoonStone-Silver Ridge alliance law, any legal action against my person, my household, or my immediate dependents during the provisional candidacy period is subject to Alpha Damien's review." I looked directly at him. "Which means your liquidation paperwork goes through his legal office before it touches this house."
The lawyer behind Reginald cleared his throat.
Reginald looked at the document a moment longer. Then he looked at me.
"You don't even know if he'll choose you," he said.
"The interview is today."
"And if he doesn't choose you?"
"Then we'll revisit the situation." I met his eyes. "But today, right now, this house is protected. And you cannot touch me."
A long beat passed.
"You think you're very clever," Reginald said quietly.
"I think you drove here before sunrise with two men to pressure a twenty-one-year-old woman while her blind mother was still in bed," I said. "I think that says everything we need to say to each other."
His jaw shifted.
"Get off my porch," I said. "And do not come back while I'm gone."
He stood there for another second, and that second was important. He was deciding whether to push. I held his gaze. I did not look at the lawyer or the other man. I kept my eyes on Reginald's face and I did not blink.
He stepped back.
He turned and walked down the path without another word. The two men followed. The car started and pulled away.
I stood at the open door until the sound of the engine faded. Then I stepped back inside and closed it.
Theo was standing in the hallway. His face was doing something complicated.
"What was that?" he said.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Mara." His voice cracked on the second syllable. He was still young enough that his voice cracked under stress. "That was Uncle Reginald. What did he want? What does that letter mean? Where are you going?"
I turned to face him.
He looked so much like our father at that moment that it cost me something physical to keep my expression steady. The same jawline. The same way of standing when he was frightened, feet slightly too far apart, weight forward.
"I'm going to Silver Ridge for a year," I said. "I have a contract with Alpha Damien. It pays enough to clear the estate debt and buy this house in Mom's name. When I come back, Reginald can't threaten us anymore."
"What kind of contract?"
I looked at him steadily.
He was sixteen. He was not a child. I watched him figure it out, the way his face rearranged itself as the pieces arrived and connected.
"Mara," he said. It came out low.
"It's my choice," I said. "I made it with a clear head. No one forced me."
He looked at the floor. I watched his throat work.
"You could have told me," he said. "You didn't have to just decide."
"I know. I'm telling you now."
He pressed his palm against the wall and exhaled slowly. "When do you leave?"
"Two hours."
He straightened up. He did not cry. He nodded once, the way boys do when they are learning that dignity is sometimes just holding still.
"I'll wake Mom," he said.
He went upstairs. I heard his footsteps on the landing. I picked up my bag and set it by the door.
My mother came downstairs in her house coat, Theo behind her with his hand lightly on her elbow to guide her. She had her glasses on. She found me immediately and her face crumpled and then rearranged itself into determination.
"No," she said. "Mara, no. I told you no."
"Mom."
"You can't give yourself to a stranger for money. You can't." She crossed the room and took my hands. Her grip was hard. "Your father would hate this. He would hate that I let this happen."
"Dad isn't here," I said quietly. "And Reginald just left without getting what he came for because I found another way. That's what Dad would have done. He would have found another way."
She pressed her forehead against mine. I could feel her breathing.
"One year," I said. "Twelve months. I'll call you every day I'm allowed to. Theo will be here. And when I come back, the house will be ours. No one else's. Yours."
She was crying without making noise, the way she had learned to cry so Theo would not hear her through the walls at night.
I held her for a long time. Longer than two hours allowed. Then I picked up my bag, kissed her cheek, nodded at Theo, and walked out the front door.
The morning air was cold. A Silver Ridge escort vehicle was parked at the end of the street, dark and official. Someone had been waiting there since before Reginald arrived.
I walked toward it without looking back.
If I looked back, I would not go.
- Writer
