Chapter 16
Sixteen
ANYA
Later that same day, my feet are killing me as I kick off my brand new heels.
It had been a long day of fun with Ryker and the pack after we went on a long date.
At first, they looked like they were ready to fuck me after I had breakfast, but I brought up going on a date, so they didn’t suspect me of wanting to still escape.
I can’t forget the look on Ryker’s face when I first mentioned going on a normal date with all of them. He’d seemed shocked, then almost... hurt, as if I’d asked for the moon instead, shopping, then a movie and dinner. As if getting to know each other was blasphemous.
“Just one normal day,” I’d told them, trying to keep my voice firm despite how naked I’d felt after Marcus held me on his face, how my pussy still tingled from the orgasm he’d given me. “I want to get to know you all before I make any decisions about being your... omega.”
Marcus had laughed, his massive shoulders shaking with mirth. “Getting to know each other?” he’d said, his eyes twinkling. “We wolves don’t do all of that. We know you’re the one. But whatever makes you feel better, little omega.”
I’d flushed at that, remembering how deep his tongue had gone into me. But I’d held my ground, insisting on at least one day of normalcy before I potentially go into heat.
And to my surprise, they’d agreed. So we went to the movies, then dinner at a fancy restaurant on the other side of the island. All five of them had come, though Ryker spent half the meal checking his phone, his jaw tight with tension.
Now, lying on my bed with my sore feet, I can’t stop thinking about how stressed he’d looked all day, how he’d kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, like he was memorizing my face. Like I was about to disappear.
I sit up suddenly, my stomach twisting with anxiety. Tomorrow’s the deadline. Tomorrow, Keith will come back for his answer about whether Ryker is going to honor their agreement or not. Whether he’s going to hand me over or not.
My hands are shaking as I reach for the water glass on my nightstand, taking a long sip to steady myself.
I’m not going to just sit here and wait to be traded like some commodity.
I’m not going to wait around to find out if Ryker chooses his resort over me.
The thought of being given to Keith makes my skin crawl.
I can remember those cold, calculating eyes studying me like I’m a piece of meat, his smooth voice promising to collect me.
My eyes dart to the window.
It’s fully dark outside, the moon just a sliver in the night sky.
The house is quiet. I slide off the bed and pad silently to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen for any sounds in the hallway.
Nothing. I turn the lock with a quiet click, then rush back to the bed, heart hammering against my ribs.
It’s time to go.
I grab the clothes I’ve gathered from my drawers.
My new clothes are too fancy, but the practical items I brought from home will work perfectly.
I start knotting them together, my fingers moving quickly despite me trembling: t-shirts tied at the arms, leggings attached at the ankles, a sweatshirt to finish it off.
The makeshift rope grows longer with each addition, sturdy enough to support my weight.
I’ve thought about this all day, planned it carefully during the boring parts of the movie, while my body still hummed with the memory of Lorenzo’s hands on my thighs under the table and of Rex’s lips brushing my neck when he leaned in to whisper something in my ear.
The rope is ready.
I heft it in my hands, testing its strength with a firm tug. It should hold. I hope.
I quickly slide the window up and secure one end of the rope to the bedpost, pulling hard to make sure the knots will hold, then throw the rest out the window. It dangles down the side of the house, just within reach of the ground.
Perfect.
I change quickly, pulling on a pair of purple sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that I’d packed from home. Slipping my feet into sneakers, I look around for my backpack.
It’s already prepared, zipped, and ready by the closet. It has my useless, broken phone, charger, wallet with the little cash I have, a change of clothes, and a water bottle. Not much, but enough to get me to the ferry and off this island.
I sling it over my shoulders and take one last look around the beautiful bedroom. The alphas have been nothing but generous to me. I feel bad after they have been giving me clothes, jewelry, shelter, and pleasure beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
They’ve treated me like a queen from the moment I set foot here.
I slide one leg over the windowsill, then the other, my heart in my throat as I grip the rope with both hands. It’s at least fifteen feet down, and my palms are already sweaty as I start to lower myself, hand over hand, my feet braced against the wall.
Halfway down, my foot slips on the smooth siding. I dangle for one terrifying moment, my arms straining as I fight to regain my footing. A whimper escapes me before I can stop it, and I freeze, listening for any sounds of alarm from inside the house.
Nothing. I’m still safe.
I continue my descent, moving as quickly as I dare, until my feet finally touch the soft grass of the backyard.
I crouch low, scanning the darkness for any movement.
The yard is empty, the patio furniture casting long shadows in the moonlight.
I can just make out the outline of the infinity pool, its surface rippling slightly in the night breeze.
I take off at a run, keeping to the shadows along the edge of the property.
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps as I sprint across the lawn, my eyes fixed on the tall hedge that’s between me and the road.
I duck through a gap in the hedge, twigs scratching at my face and arms as I push through.
On the other side, I pause, catching my breath as I scan the quiet street.
The houses here are widely spaced, each on its own generous plot of land.
There are no streetlights, just the weak glow of the crescent moon to guide me.
I dash across the empty road, my sneakers silent on the pavement, and continue along the shoulder, heading toward the town. I need to get to the marina, find a way onto a boat, anything to get me off this island before morning.
The sound of an engine makes me freeze. Headlights sweep across the road ahead, growing brighter as a vehicle approaches. I dart into the bushes at the side of the road, pressing myself flat against the ground as the lights pass over me.
The car slows, then stops about twenty feet away.
I hold my breath, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure it must be audible. Please keep going, please keep going.
The engine cuts out. A door opens, then closes with a soft click. Footsteps approach my hiding place, slow and deliberate.
“Hey there,” says a friendly voice. “You need some help?”
Shit.
I slowly push myself to my feet, brushing leaves from my clothes as I straighten. A man stands a few yards away, leaning against the side of a white van. He’s tall, with close-cropped dark hair and a friendly smile. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, the tip glowing red in the darkness.
“You lost?” he asks, taking a drag.
I eye him warily, trying to decide if he’s safe. He doesn’t look threatening. He looks like a normal guy in jeans and a t-shirt.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “Just out for a walk.”
He raises an eyebrow. “At this time of night? In this part of the island? Not many tourists venture out here after dark.”
“I’m not a tourist,” I say, then immediately regret it. The less he knows about me, the better.
His smile widens. “No? Then what are you doing running around like your ass is on fire?”
I don’t answer, just stare at him, trying to decide if I should make a run for it. He seems harmless enough, but my instincts are screaming at me to be careful.
“You need a ride somewhere?” he offers, gesturing to the van. “I’m heading into town. Could drop you off, no problem.”
I hesitate, weighing my options. It’s at least three miles to the marina, maybe more. I’d be risking running into the alphas or even Keith.
“I’m Bruce, by the way,” he says, extending a hand. “Bruce Hanley. I do maintenance work at the resort.”
That makes my decision. If he works at the resort, he might be able to help me get off the island without alerting the alphas.
“I’m Jessica,” I lie, shaking his hand briefly. “And yeah, a ride would be great. I need to get to the ferry.”
“The ferry?” He looks surprised. “You planning on leaving the island?”
“I have a... family emergency,” I say, the lie coming easily. “I need to get home right away.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Hop in. I’ll get you there.”
I follow him to the van, climbing into the passenger seat while he circles around to the driver’s side.
The interior smells of cigarettes and some kind of pine air freshener, the dashboard cluttered with coffee cups and fast food wrappers.
Bruce slides behind the wheel, starts the engine, and pulls onto the road with smooth acceleration.
“So, Jessica,” he says, glancing at me. “Where are you from?”
“Portland,” I say, another lie. “Oregon.”
“Nice place. Been there once for a conference.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, then flicks it out the window. “What brings you to Wolf Isle? Vacation?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into details. “Something like that.”
He nods, apparently accepting my reticence. We drive in silence for a few minutes, the headlights cutting a path through the darkness. The road twists and turns, climbing uphill, then descending into a valley lined with dense forest.
The more he drives, the more I start to realize we’re not going in the right direction.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “The ferry’s in the opposite direction.”
“We’re taking a shortcut,” Bruce says smoothly. “Road’s washed out near the marina from last night’s storm. Have to go around.”
I don’t remember any storm last night, but I was pretty distracted by everything that happened.
The van turns onto a narrow dirt road that leads deeper into the forest. Trees crowd close on either side, branches scraping against the windows as we bump over ruts and potholes. My anxiety grows with each passing mile. This can’t possibly be a shortcut to the marina.
“Bruce,” I say, my voice tight. “I really think we should turn around. This doesn’t seem right.”
“We’re almost there,” he says, his tone suddenly sharper. “Just hang on.”
“Almost where?” I demand, one hand already reaching for the door handle. My heart’s pounding, and I can hear it in my ears. “Please stop the van. I want to get out.”
He laughs, the sound sending ice down my spine. “We’re at our destination, Jessica. Or should I say, Anya?”
My blood turns to ice. He knows my name.
I yank on the door handle, but nothing happens.
Bruce swerves the van onto a small clearing and slams on the brakes, sending me lurching forward against the seatbelt. Is this how it ends for me?
“Stay put,” he growls, pulling a knife from his pocket. The blade catches the light from the dashboard, gleaming wickedly. “Or this goes in your pretty throat.”
I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What do you want?”
He gets out of the van and opens my door, standing before me still holding the knife. His friendly smile is gone now. “Mr. Keith wants you.” He reaches across me, grabbing my wrist in a grip like iron. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”
I don’t hesitate.
I bring my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he’s expecting it. He blocks with his free hand, then backhands me across the face. The blow snaps my head to the side, my vision exploding with stars as pain lances through my cheek.
“That’s the hard way, then,” he says cheerfully, reaching into the back seat for a roll of duct tape. “Mr. Keith did say you might be feisty.”
I scramble for the door, trying to push past him, but he grabs a handful of my hair, yanking me back, then slaps a piece of tape across my mouth. The adhesive burns against my skin, making me gag as I struggle against his grip.
I twist and kick, trying to break free, but he’s too strong. He secures my wrists with more tape, wrapping it around and around until my circulation is cut off, my fingers going numb. Then he binds my ankles together with the same ruthless efficiency.
“There we go,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. “Much better.”
He reaches into the back again and pulls out a filthy rag, reeking of sweat and gasoline.
My eyes widen in horror as he peels the tape from my mouth just long enough to stuff the rag between my lips, then slaps the tape back into place.
The taste is vile, making me retch, but the rag absorbs the sound, turning my screams to muffled whimpers.
Fuck! I try to separate my hands, but he’s put on so much tape it’s impossible.
Bruce throws me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. My stomach lurches as he starts walking, each step jolting my bruised face against his back.
“Mr. Keith’s been looking for an omega for his special clients for months now. And here you are, just falling into our lap.”
I try to scream again, but the rag reduces it to a pathetic mewling sound. I twist and buck, trying to break free, but his arm is like a steel band across the backs of my thighs, holding me firmly in place.
“Quit squirming,” he snaps, delivering a sharp slap to my ass that makes me yelp in pain. “Or I’ll knock you out and carry you the rest of the way unconscious. Your choice.”
I go still, tears of frustration and fear streaming down my face. How did this happen? One minute I was escaping, the next I’m being directly delivered to Keith.