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T he following day, all I can think about is what he said last night about going into heat. I don't want to go into heat. I don't want to do what is expected. Yet I want to mark my mate so that way the bond will form, and maybe he will let me come live with him in the Packhouse.

It is lonely out here, and I feel trapped. Kade has dropped off some sugar cubes. There were ten in a sandwich bag. I crushed them and put them in the sugar jar, hoping they will last.

For the most part, I spend the day sleeping, having nothing better to do, my mind wandering to Tyson, Ivy, and Gannon.

How much my life has changed in a week, and I’m not sure it’s for the best anymore.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here if I had Ivy with me. When I wake up, I retrieved my phone to see multiple missed calls from Gannon. I’m about to call him back when I hear tires on the dirt road.

We had texted, or I voice texted him, but I haven't spoken to him.

And my messages are always brief because the voice text thing jumbles the words, and he keeps asking me to repeat myself, so I gave up.

As the tires got louder, I glances out the window to see Kade pull up. He smiles and seems to be in a cheerful mood. My bond flares and I set the phone down before rushing out the door.

"I have a surprise for you," he says as he leans down to kiss me before stepping back to look at me.

"I spoke with Alpha Brock today. He said Tyson is doing well. And once you're settled into the Packhouse, I can send someone to retrieve him," Kade tells me.

"Really?" I ask.

"Of course. Come on. Come on," he says, ushering me into the cabin. He takes his jacket off sitting on the bed.

"When can I come to the packhouse?" I ask, excited that I can finally get my boy back. That he will be with me and kept safe. I can get my bubbly Tyson back with me where he belongs.

Kade picks up my phone when he notices the screen on.

He glances at it and unlocks it, scrolling through it.

"Make me a coffee, love," he says, and I turn to the kitchen.

When I make his coffee and hand it to him, he has a stormy look on his face.

He quickly sets my phone down. Taking the chipped mug, he sets it on the floor beside him before pulling me on his lap.

"I missed you," he says, nipping at my jaw.

I can smell liquor on his breath, on his clothes, and a heap of different scents that have me sniffing him.

It bother me for some unknown reason. Yet I snap out of my strange fascination with his scent when he squeezes my bum, his hands groping me, and I try to pull out of his grip, but he rolls on the side, pulling me with him.

Panic writhes through me when he starts tugging at my dress. His hands on my body make me cringe, and I push on his shoulders before panicking completely and accidentally kneeing him in the crotch. He growls, clutching himself and rears back.

"Damn it, Abbie! What is wrong with you?" he demands.

"I didn't mean it. You just startled me," I tell him. I shake violently as I move away from him. He reaches for me, but I bring my knees closer to myself.

"I can't believe you! After everything, I have done for you! I was getting Tyson back for you! The least you could do is help me out. I have needs, too, Abbie. Bloody useless at everything you do!" he snaps while I stare at him with wide eyes at how angry he is getting.

"You better not carry on like this when you go into heat. We will complete the bond then. Until then, think about what you just did!" he growls, shaking his head. He retrieves his jacket before leaving, slamming the door so hard a piece crumples and falls off.

I’m no longer here. No, I’m stuck back in the basement as that vile man breathed on the back of my neck as he pinned me down.

As unimaginable pain tore through me, my thighs were stained red with his brutality.

Gone is the cabin, as I am transported right back there, right back where nightmares are my reality.

Where monsters are real, and where I try to end it once he is done with me.

I thought my life was traumatic before that day. But it opened up an entirely new world. I suddenly notice the shadows in the house more. I now take a second glance at everything I would usually only glance at, wondering if he is lurking here waiting. Constantly fearing it will happen again.

I fear seeing my own body because it bears its marks of it. I fear people because I know how much one person can destroy you. It opens you up to realize how truly evil our world is. Now everything has you second guessing the ulterior motive behind one's actions.

Some logical part of me knows I’m not there anymore, yet the flashbacks are so real I might as well have been enduring it all over again. Everything felt real; I could still feel his calloused fingers and the way my tunic tore.

The stinging of my flesh as he ripped my underwear down and felt the warmth of my blood as it cascaded down my legs. His scent was putrid, like rotting meat and steel. His voice in my ear and the taste of his fingers as he muffled my screams of agony.

Even the voices above us, the TV show Mrs. Daley turned up when she sold me to him so the kids wouldn't hear me. The tune that played at the start of it I will never forget. And I swear she used to turn that show up every time it came on, to remind me of what he did.

It was one of the worst triggers because that show was on daily, and the moment it came on, my surroundings faded away, and I was right back there. Right now, that jingle played on a loop, keeping me trapped in the memories of my innocence stolen.

Surviving trauma is one thing. Learning to live with what happened, however, is another entirely. It lingers, waiting in the background to be triggered. Only to remind you of how helpless you once were, showing you how easily destroyed you can be again.

And right now, I’m plagued with memories I wish weren't mine—wished weren't imprinted on my brain and all because of the way my mate's hands felt when he grabbed me. No way can I survive mating with him if just his touch repulsed me so much it sent me back here to this place.