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A sob catches in my throat, and I pull him in for one last hug, pouring the last ounce of love and strength I possess into that embrace, hoping it is enough for him to understand that I don’t want to leave him.

“Never forget how much I love you,” I whisper, my lips brushing his ear.

“Never forget that, no matter what.” I pull away, trying to get his full attention.

“Tyson, I need you to listen to me,” I say, my voice trembling but firm. “I need you to be a big boy now, okay? Can you do that for me?”

He nods, his little face so solemn and serious I almost laugh. Almost.

“I have to go away for a while,” I continue, my throat constricting with emotion.

His tiny brow furrows as he tries to make sense of my words. His hands fist my skirt, yanking on it.

I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to consume me. How can I explain this to him? How can I make him understand that leaving him is the last thing I want to do, but the choice isn’t mine.

“Somewhere far away, but I will always be right here,” I say softly, poking his chest; he giggles, thinking I am tickling him. Sighing, I brush a stray curl from his forehead.

He clutches his blanket tighter, his bottom lip trembling as he leans closer, burying his face in my chest once more.

I hold him close, my heart shattering into a million pieces. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to go, either. But sometimes... sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”

He sniffles, his tiny hands fisting the fabric of my blouse so tightly I think it might tear.

I stand on shaky legs, my heart shattering with each beat as I look down at his tiny form. His eyes are wide and wet, his bottom lip trembling.

“Tyson,” I say, my voice cracking as I kneel back down to his level. “I need you to promise me something, okay?”

“Promise me you’ll stay away from Mrs. Daley,” I whisper, cupping his cheeks with my trembling hands. “Promise me you’ll try to stay out of her way.”

A sob catches in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to memorize the feel of him in my hands, the scent of his skin, the sound of his breath.

“I have to go now, sweetheart,” I say softly.

And then, I release him, rising to my feet on shaky legs knowing if I don’t, I will remain here and take the beating off Mrs. Daley.

Unfortunately, that puts him at risk too since she would blame him for distracting me.

He stares up at me; his eyes shine with a love and adoration I pray will never fade yet knowing this place and knowing her it will.

“Be good,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Listen to Kimmy and stay out of trouble. I’ll... I’ll see you soon.” I tell him if only he knew it means in another life because I won’t have one after today.

It’s a lie, but he doesn’t understand anyway, clutching his torn and holey blanket to his chest as he watches me back away. Kimmy steps forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You have to stay out of Mrs. Daley’s way. Do you hear me? You have to stay quiet, okay? Stay hidden if you need to. And listen to Kimmy?—”

“I’ll look after him,” Kimmy’s small voice interrupts. She steps forward, her chin raised despite the fear that flickers in her eyes. Her hands, usually fidgeting with the frayed hem of her dress, are steady at her sides.

I tilt my head, my heart swelling even as it splinters further. “Kimmy, I?—”

“I know,” she says softly, her gaze unwavering. “I’ll keep him safe, Miss Abbie. I promise.”

The conviction in her young voice nearly undoes me as I reach for her; she slams into me, her arms wrapping around my waist.

She nods, her small hands gripping the back of my dress like a lifeline. “I promise, Miss Abbie,” she says, her voice quivering but never breaking. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

The weight of her words settle on my shoulders, a burden and a blessing all at once. This little girl, so young and yet so brave, is willing to take on a responsibility far beyond her years. For Tyson. For me.

“You’ve always looked after us. Now it’s my turn to look after him,” Kimmy whispers.

A sob catches in my throat, tears blurring my vision.

“Thank you,” I manage, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Kimmy nods, a tear tracing down her cheek as she peers up at me. “We love you, Miss Abbie. Forever and always.”

The distant sound of Mrs. Daley’s shrill voice breaks through our fragile bubble, a harsh reminder of the reality we face. I pull back reluctantly, cupping both their faces in my hands.

“I have to go,” I say, the words like shards of glass in my throat.

Tyson whimpers, his little hands reaching for me, but Kimmy grasps them gently, pulling him to her side. She meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us; she knows what fate awaits him if Mrs. Daley gets her hands on him.

With a final kiss to each of their foreheads, I force myself to walk away. Each step is agony; the weight of their eyes on my back is a physical ache. But I keep going, even as my heart screams at me to turn back, to gather them up and run, to never let them go.

As I slip through the gate, the cold metal biting into my palm, I risk one final glance back. They stand hand in hand watching me go; their faces etched with a sorrow far beyond their years.

“I love you,” I mouth, the words carried away in the bitter wind.

And then I am gone, the gate swinging shut behind me with a finality that echoes in the depths of my soul.

I jog up the steps, listening for Mrs. Daley before slipping inside, narrowly making it past her as she exits the dining room.

I rush up the steps to help Ivy with the last of our chores, stopping by the linen cupboard to grab some fresh linen.

I burst into the room, my heart pounding from the near miss with Mrs. Daley.

Dropping the stack of fresh linens on the lower bunk, I snatch up the feather duster and attack the chandelier, trying to calm my nerves.

The urgency of the day weighs heavily; we have twelve rooms to prepare, and not a minute can be wasted.

“She almost caught me,” I gasp out, the fear of the encounter still fresh. A tear escapes, tracing a path down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, no time for tears.

Ivy, ever the pillar of strength, reassures me from across the room. “He’ll be fine, Abbie,” she says, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice. We both know the kind of person Mrs. Daley is, and my heart sinks for little Tyson.

Trying to refocus on the task at hand, I start stripping the beds, my movements quick and efficient. Ivy pauses and stares at me, her face troubled. “Mrs. Daley... she told me...” her voice trails off, and I can tell she’s struggling to deliver the news.

“What is it?” I ask softly, dreading her next words.

Ivy swallows hard, her eyes meeting mine with a grave intensity. “The butcher will be there. He’s hoping we’re auctioned and not killed.” Her words hit me like a cold wave, and I feel a shiver despite the sweat on my brow.

A lump forms in my throat as I process her words. I try to push back the panic rising within me. “More than my life, Abbie,” Ivy whispers, a solemn promise in her gaze.

The weight of her words anchors me, and I find a shred of courage.

“I can’t promise that; not this time, Ivy.

I’d rather die than let him touch me again,” I manage to say, my voice cracking.

The memories creep up, threatening to overwhelm me.

“Don’t make me break a promise,” I whisper, another tear rolling down my cheek.

Ivy nods, understanding the depth of my pain. “More than my life,” she repeats, affirming our pact—a pledge deeper than any simple ‘I love you’.

“No, I won’t allow it,” I stammer

“More than my life,” she reaffirms, knowing Ivy will stand by me no matter what comes and nothing I say will change her mind.

I wipe my tears and nod slowly, my bottom lip quivering as I look at her.

“More than my life,” I whisper reluctantly before turning back to my task.

Ivy responds with a nod, her own eyes misty.

We share a look before returning to our tasks, then we focus on pulling back the heavy drapes, letting in a sliver of cold morning air. As I move to help strip the beds, the physical exertion takes a toll. Mrs. Daley’s inspections are always rigorous, and any mistake can mean the whip.

“Pillows,” I sing out to Ivy behind me as I toss them her way.

She catches them and begins placing them on each freshly made bed, ensuring everything looks perfect.

We straighten the dark rugs, make sure no toys are left out, and adjust everything meticulously. We can’t afford any mistakes—not today.

With only a couple of hours left and more rooms to clean, the pressure mounts.

Today we’re supposed to learn our fate in the town square, a day we’ve both dreaded for eight long years.

As the reality of our situation sinks in, I know we might choose to face the lashes rather than be late for the Alpha, whose decision is final.

Rushing to the next room, the routine starts again. Each passing moment has us moving quicker, as we continually glance at the clock, the sinking feeling in my stomach grows. We’re running out of time, with over a hundred sandwiches still to make for the children.

The click of heels on the wooden floor signals Mrs. Daley’s approach.

Straightening, Ivy and I flatten our aprons, fix our hair, and stand ready, hands clasped behind our backs.

As Mrs. Daley enters, her presence dominating the room, I steel myself for what’s to come.

Her eagle eyes scan every corner, looking for any reason to unleash her cruelty.

As she inspects the room, I hold my breath, preparing for her verdict.

She begins her inspection, her eyes scanning for any imperfection. I hold my breath, praying she finds nothing amiss.