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What had changed? What had awoken it?

I stumbled to my feet, the weight of what had just happened hitting me like a physical blow. I should be dead. I was dead–or should have been. My hand moved to my throat, fingers tracing the bruises Xavier's hands had left. The marks were real. Thememory was real. But somehow, impossibly, I was standing here breathing, heart pounding with fury instead of stopping forever.

How am I alive?

The question flickered through my mind for only a moment before survival instinct kicked in. Later. I could think about the impossibility later. Now was for running, for surviving, for getting as far from Xavier and his pack as my legs could carry me.

Lightning crackled, showing me a path through the trees. Away from the shallow grave. Away from his territory. Away from the life I'd built and lost in a single night of betrayal.

The forest closed around me as I ran, branches whipping at my face. I didn't feel their sting. Didn't feel the cold mud squelching between my bare toes or the icy rain soaking what was left of my clothes. I need to put distance between myself and that hole in the ground. Between him and me.

My magick fluttered in my chest, weak but steady. A tiny flame of hope in the darkness. It had helped me escape the grave. Maybe, just maybe, it would help me survive what came next.

Hours passed in a blur of rain and darkness. My feet pounded against wet earth and slick grass, each flash of lightning briefly illuminating the forest around me before plunging me back into shadow. The storm's fury began to fade, but my terror remained sharp as glass.

Have I gone far enough? The question echoed through my mind, spurring me forward even as my legs grew heavy as stone. I had to keep going, had to get beyond the pack's lands, their reach. But with no moon or stars visible through the clouds, I feared I was running in circles.

My foot caught on an exposed root and I crashed to the forest floor, breath forced from my lungs. I gasped there a moment, mud soaking into my tattered dress.

Get up!I screamed at myself.Move!

But my legs would not obey, trembling with overexertion as I tried to rise. The glowing embers of magick I'd used to escape the grave had faded to cold ash, taking my unnatural strength with them.

Still, I crawled forward on hands and knees, clawing past clinging vines and branches. Thunder cracked overhead once more, then faded to distant rumbling.

"No," I whimpered, collapsing onto my back as the last drops of rain pelted my face. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, the looming trees seeming to bend and sway.

They think you are dead, some small voice inside whispered.You can get away. Survive. You must survive.

With enormous effort I dragged myself toward a thicket of bushes, collapsing underneath their sparse cover. Thorns tore at my skin, but I was beyond pain, focused only on the branches overhead sheltering me from any potential passing eyes. While the brush wouldn't mask my scent from the nose of a wolf, hopefully I had traveled far enough that none would stumble upon me by accident.

I've gone far enough for now, I told myself. A little rest to regain my strength, then I would go on. My eyes drifted closed even as I made that silent vow.

There was no going back to my old life anyway. My family had sold me to him, binding me with a contract I'd been too young to even understand, let alone sign. Every choice since then—where I lived, who I spoke to, how I spent my days–had been filtered through what would please Xavier, what would benefit the match they'd arranged. None of them had ever asked what I wanted.

And somehow, despite it all, I'd grown to care for him. Or thought I had. Was it love? I wasn’t sure. Maybe what I'd felt was just gratitude that he was kinder than he could have been, morepatient than the arrangement required. Maybe I'd confused his careful cultivation of my affection with genuine feeling. How pathetic that seemed now–falling for my own captor because he'd made my cage comfortable.

Let them all think Hazel Blackwood died tonight. She had.

Chapter

Four

HAZEL

The morning sunlight crept across my face, pulling me reluctantly from darkness into consciousness. For one peaceful moment, I floated in that space between sleeping and waking, where nothing hurt and nothing mattered.

Then awareness seeped in and with it came wrongness. The sheets against my skin were too soft, too clean. They carried the scent of expensive fabric softener instead of my own lavender detergent.

My eyes flew open as panic clawed its way up my throat. Gone were the familiar cream walls of my bedroom, replaced by an enormous suite drenched in morning light that filtered through gauzy white curtains. The wrongness of it all hit me in waves—the crystal chandelier catching rainbows in its drops, the delicate furniture arranged just so, the manicured gardens visible through French doors.

Wolf Pack.

The thought shot through me like lightning, sending my heart racing against my ribs. They must have found me, tracked me down, brought me to one of their safehouses. But even as thefear threatened to overwhelm me, something didn't add up. This wasn't Xavier's style at all—he preferred dark woods and leather, spaces that screamed masculinity and power. This room, with its cream and gold tones and flowing fabrics, felt more like an upscale rental property.

Wolves didn’t own French doors, or...decorate.

I tried to push myself up, but every muscle in my body screamed in protest. The movement sent fresh fire racing through my throat where he'd...where last night he'd?—