Escape Minded
1690 Words
Onyx wasn't worried that her human would attempt another escape tonight. It wouldn't be the first, and frankly, it wouldn't be the last. She had watched every one of Alexandra’s grand designs over the past few months with a mixture of pity and bone-deep exhaustion. Each scheme was more ingenious than the last, layered with painstaking detail, yet each inevitably curdled into the same humiliating defeat.
The first attempt, barely a week after their arrival in Blood Moon territory, had been a fiasco of misaligned instincts. Alexandra had bypassed security, shifted, then bolted, but because Onyx had refused to be a cog in her escape, the massive black wolf had simply run in confused, adrenaline-fueled circles for what felt like hours. By the time Daniel caught up to them, Alexandra was more distraught than fearful. She spent the following weeks cold and distant toward her own wolf, vowing never to shift again if she planned on running. She had learned the hard way that when the body wanted to flee, the soul and the wolf within it sometimes had other plans.
The second attempt was born of cold, human logic. Alexandra had picked the security lock with a hairpin and a terrifying amount of resolve, setting her sights on the garage. She had chosen a black Mustang, sleek, fast, and dark as a shadow. The plan was flawless: burn rubber until she hit the border, then shift into Onyx to vanish into the dense, untraceable wilderness. It was a masterpiece of a plan, right up until the moment it wasn't.
Alexandra had failed to account for the nature of the Blood Moon pack. They were a pack of precision and iron-fisted control; they left nothing to chance. Every vehicle was fitted with real-time GPS trackers. Daniel and his men didn't even need to scramble a search party; they simply sat back, watched the digital beacon streak toward the treeline, and waited for her to trip over her own ambition.
She had nearly reached the edge of the woods when a deer, blinded by the headlights, bolted into the road. Alexandra’s instinct to protect life took over, a reflex she couldn't suppress even in the heat of her flight. She swerved hard, and the Mustang’s nose crumpled against the thick trunk of an ancient oak with a sickening, metallic shriek.
Onyx remembered the sensory onslaught that followed: the sharp, acrid smell of gasoline and burnt rubber, the jarring jolt of impact, and then, the heavy, inevitable tread of boots on gravel. Daniel had reached the wreck before the steam had even cleared. He hadn't been angry,
he had been terrifyingly calm, moving with the slow, maddening assurance of a father retrieving a wayward child.
He had hauled Alexandra from the wreckage, effortlessly ignoring her frantic kicks and the raw, desperate screams she tore from her throat. Even now, Onyx could feel the phantom sensation of being hoisted against his shoulder, carried through the dark woods while Alexandra fought for every inch of freedom that Daniel systematically, ruthlessly dismantled.
The fifth time, she had opted for stealth. She pretended to be searching for a specific omega, slipped into the servants' quarters, and emerged disguised as a maid, hoping to blend into a departing supply caravan. She hadn't even reached the outer gates before Daniel materialized in her path. He didn't raise his voice; he simply took the wicker basket from her trembling hands and offered her a choice: walk back on her own, or be carried.
The twelfth time, she had simply vanished into the dense, suffocating embrace of the forest. She had survived two days in the wild, driven by pure, unadulterated adrenaline, before he found her. She was curled beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, shivering and utterly spent. He hadn't woken her; he had simply wrapped her in his heavy, fur-lined cloak and carried her home, her head resting against his chest as she slept the sleep of the defeated.
The twenty-third time however, was born of sheer arrogance. She had waited for the night of a lunar eclipse, convinced the unnatural darkness would cloak her movements. She had walked boldly through the front gates, head held high, only to find him half a mile down the road. Daniel had been sitting on an old tree stump, calmly roasting a rabbit over a small fire. He didn't even stand when she approached; he simply looked up, his gaze catching hers with the ghost of a smile.
"I wasn't sure you'd choose this road," he murmured, gesturing to the fire. "Sit. Dinner is almost ready."
Furious, Alexandra had hurled a rock at his head. He’d caught it mid-air without even looking. Then, a low, genuine laugh rumbled through his chest, a sound that irritated her more than any taunt ever could. Before she could bolt, he had effortlessly hoisted her over his shoulder. The journey back was a symphony of her protest, her fists pounding a frantic rhythm against his back as she demanded to be released. He never complained, he simply carried her home.
Onyx remembered every attempt. The plans, the determination and the desperation burning in her human's heart.
And the inevitable ending, Daniel always found her. Onyx could also feel the flicker of relief buried under her human's anger when Daniel found her. Like some small, stubborn part of Alexandra was relieved the search hadn't lasted longer. But the wolf didn't point that out, instead she said,
You know... her voice purred softly through Alexandra's mind.
For someone who claims to loathe him, you spend an awful lot of time obsessing over him.
Alexandra scoffed. "I think about ways to escape him."
Mm-hmm.
"I do." Alexandra insisted, her mental projection sharpening.
Of course you do. Onyx stretched, a languid ripple of satisfaction. That's why you noticed his new scar before I did. And why you know he favors his left shoulder since the rogue attack last month. A pause, weighted and knowing. Very escape-minded of you.
Alexandra's cheeks burned. "Shut up."
Make me.
She couldn't, and they both knew it. Wolve spirits didn't have throats to grab. Onyx was as permanent as her heartbeat, and as inescapable as the mate bond she refused to acknowledge.
Alexandra threw herself onto the bed, staring at the canopy above, heavy velvet, deep crimson, the color of blood and passion and all the things she didn't want to feel. The fabric was saturated with his presence. Everything in this room was; it smelled of lemon, woodsmoke, and a dark, elemental undertone that made her wolf whine in shameful, traitorous want and forced her human heart to skip a treacherous beat.
"He killed Elias," she whispered into the stifling dark. The words were a prayer of grief, repeated for the thousandth time.
I know, Onyx said, and for once there was no teasing in her voice. I was there.
Tears stung Alexandra’s eyes, hot and blurring. "He could have spared him. Why did he have to end him?" Onyx said nothing. The silence lingered, finally, the wolf spoke.
You chose Elias.
Alexandra swallowed hard.
Most wolves would never accept being replaced.
"I would have been happy with Elias."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with truths neither wanted to speak. Finally, Onyx sighed, a sound like wind through autumn leaves.
You would have been content. Comfortable, perhaps. But the Moon Goddess does not forge bonds for the sake of comfort. The wolf’s presence pulsed against Alexandra’s mind, a strange, suffocating warmth. Elias was a choice, Alexandra. But he was never our mate, Daniel is. And as much as I despise the blood on his hands, we cannot change the truth.
"I don't want to be mated to a madman." Alexandra hissed, her fists clenching the bedspread.
Sadly, the heart is not a democracy, and the goddess does not take suggestions, Onyx murmured.
Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut, but the images remained She hated him for all the things he'd done and she hated him for trying to build something from the ashes of that murder. But most of all, she hated her own body, the way her breath caught when he entered a room, before her mind could remind her heart what he'd done. The way her skin prickled with awareness when he stood too close enough to smell his unique scent of Lemon, smoke and rain that was so intoxicating.
She'd woken once, feverish from a winter chill, to find him asleep in the chair beside her bed. Moonlight had carved his face into shadows and silver, and for one breathless moment, she'd reached out. Her fingers hovered an inch from his cheek, trembling with want so fierce it felt like dying.
She'd snatched her hand back. Buried it under the covers and bitten her lip until she tasted blood, using pain to drown out the phantom warmth of skin she'd never touched.
He hadn't woken, but his wolf had stirred, and she'd seen the faint curve of his mouth, the ghost of a smile, knowing and devastating and known that he knew.
That was what she hated most. She hated that some traitorous part of her, some deep and ancient thing that answered only to moonlight and fate, had already chosen him and that was why she could never fully reject him no matter how many times she uttered the words.
And sometimes, in the dark watches of the night, when her defenses crumbled and her wolf's contentment bled into her own, she wondered why he never got angry no matter what she did.
Sometimes she did those things just to provoke him, to elicit any reaction at all, preferably fury, something raw enough to match what she felt. But Daniel always seemed to see straight through her ploys. Worse, she'd catch the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth whenever she threw one of her tantrums, or tried to run, or reject him. It was infuriating.
Why did he believe she would walk into his arms on her own, if he simply waited long enough?
- Writer
