Bound By Four

CHAPTER 3

**TRIGGER WARNING: s****l ASSAULT**

I didn’t sleep after they took my father.

I sat on the edge of my bed until the sky started to thin from black to gray, my thoughts running in tight, useless loops. Every sound outside made my muscles jump. Every creak of the house felt louder without him in it, even though his presence had never meant safety. I kept seeing his face when they dragged him out. The confusion. The accusation. The way he looked at me like I’d done something wrong just by existing.

That part still hurt. I hated that it did.

By the time the sun was fully up, I knew I couldn’t stay there.

I pulled on clothes without thinking, grabbed my bag, and left. I didn’t lock the door. No one ever came out here unless they wanted something ugly. The packhouse sat on the opposite side of the territory, deliberately far from our cabin. The Alpha had planned it that way years ago. It took almost an hour on foot, cutting through paths I knew by heart. I kept my head down, stayed off the main trails, avoided patrol routes. I didn’t want questions. I didn’t have answers.

The closer I got, the louder everything became.

Voices. Movement. Pack energy buzzing sharp and restless in the air, like static before a storm.

When the packhouse came into view, my stomach dropped.

People crowded the grounds, clustered in tight knots. Warriors moved with purpose, faces set and grim. And there, right on the veranda where everyone could see, stood Johnny with his arm wrapped around Cindy. She was crying into his chest, shaking dramatically, while he stroked her hair and glared at anyone who got too close.

It hit me all at once.

This wasn’t going to end cleanly. It wasn’t going to end fairly. It wasn’t going to end with the truth.

I took one step forward and felt a hand clamp around my arm.

Sam yanked me sideways, away from the packhouse and toward the trees. His grip was iron hard. I reacted on instinct, twisting, trying to pull free as panic flared hot and fast.

“Let go of me,” I hissed.

“Not here,” he said under his breath. “Not now.”

He didn’t release me until we were far enough away that the pack noise faded into the background. Then he loosened his grip, jaw tight, eyes scanning the trees like he expected someone to follow.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

Sam exhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself. “Your father’s been accused of sexually assaulting several teenage girls.”

The words didn’t register at first. They floated there, unreal, like something said wrong. Like a mistake.

“Cindy and her friends,” he added quietly. “Girls from your school.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Pressure built behind my eyes, sharp and fast. “No,” I said flatly. “He’s a drunk. He’s angry. He’s a lot of things. But he is not that.”

“They aren’t accusing him of rape,” Sam said carefully. “They’re claiming inappropriate touching. Attempted assault.”

A sharp laugh tore out of me. Bitter. Uncontrolled. “Of course they are. That way there’s no physical proof. No exam. Nothing that could clear him. This is bullshit.”

“I know,” he said. “But right now, it doesn’t matter what we think. The Alpha’s involved.”

“Then what?” I asked. “They put him under Alpha command? Force the truth out of him?”

Sam’s expression darkened. “Probably.”

My hands curled into fists. “He won’t remember anything. You know that. Half the time he doesn’t even remember the night before. How is that justice?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if they’re actually looking for the truth.”

That realization settled heavy and cold in my chest.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Go home,” Sam said. “Wait. Don’t come back here. I’ll keep you informed.”

I looked past him toward the packhouse. Johnny had spotted me now. His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and deliberate. A slow smile spread across his face, all promise and threat.

“I don’t think this is over,” I said.

“No,” Sam agreed quietly. “It’s just starting.”

I turned away before I said something that would get me killed.

The walk home felt longer than before. Every rustle in the trees made me flinch. My thoughts spiraled, one worse than the last. School was going to be hell. People who’d ignored me would suddenly have opinions. Looks would sharpen. Words would turn cruel. No one would believe my father was innocent. No one would care what I believed.

I didn’t let myself think about what would happen to him. That was too big. Too painful. If I went there, I wouldn’t come back.

So I focused on what I could control.

I skipped school. I skipped work. I went home and sat on the couch, staring at the wall until the silence pressed in too close. Eventually, I forced myself up and started cleaning. Laundry first. Then my room. Then the bathroom. I scrubbed until my hands ached, until the chemical smell burned my nose.

Busy meant I didn’t have to think.

I moved into my father’s room next. The air was thick with stale alcohol and sweat. I opened the window wide and started gathering clothes, bottles, trash. I vacuumed. I wiped down every surface. I made his bed. I threw away every empty bottle I could find.

It didn’t fix anything.

By the time the sun dipped low, I realized I hadn’t eaten in two days. My stomach was hollow, but the idea of food made me sick. I stayed busy instead.

The pounding on the door shattered the quiet.

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

Before I could reach it, Johnny’s voice cut through the air outside, sharp and furious, shouting my name.

I shoved the fridge against the door just as something slammed into it from the other side. The impact rattled the walls. My pulse roared in my ears.

The door splintered, partially giving way, and then glass exploded across the living room as someone crashed through the window.

They flooded in fast.

Johnny. Five other boys from school. Wolves I’d grown up with. Faces I’d known my whole life.

“Listen,” I said, backing away, my voice shaking. “I had nothing to do with what my father may or may not have done.”

Johnny didn’t hear me. Or didn’t care.

He tackled me to the floor, knocking the breath from my lungs. His weight crushed me down. His face was close enough that I could smell his rage. He inhaled sharply at my neck and growled.

Every instinct I had screamed that this was wrong.

I fought. I kicked. I clawed. But there were too many of them.

Hands held me down. Voices laughed. The world narrowed into pain and helplessness and the sick certainty that no one was coming.

At some point, I closed my eyes.

I don’t know how long it lasted. Time stopped meaning anything. When they finally left, the sky outside the broken window was pale with dawn.

I lay there long after they were gone, staring at nothing. My body ached. My mind felt hollowed out.

When I finally managed to sit up, blood stained my clothes. My hands shook as I pressed them to the floor to steady myself.

This was my punishment.

I knew I couldn’t report it. Not Johnny. Not the Alpha’s son. No one would listen. No one would care.

My gaze drifted to the broken glass scattered across the floor. One shard lay close to my hand.

I picked it up.

I hesitated. Just for a second.

Then I pressed it to my skin.

The pain was sharp and clean and grounding. Something I could control. Blood welled up, warm and dark. I watched it drip, detached, distant.

My vision blurred. The room tilted.

Someone was shouting my name.

I couldn’t lift my head to see who it was.

Then everything went black.