Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AVA
Three years earlier
The night I ran, there was a party.
One of David Harper's endless gatherings, all cigars and whiskey and powerful men pretending they weren't criminals.
I'd been dreading it for weeks. Not because of the party itself, but because of what I knew was coming after.
My mother found me in my room, staring at the dress laid out on my bed like it was a death sentence.
"You don't have to do this," she said quietly, closing the door behind her, her voice barely above a whisper even though we were alone. "You know that, right? You have a choice."
"Do I?" I turned to face her, and I knew my eyes were red from crying. "They've made it pretty clear what they expect. What everyone expects." She crossed the room and took my hands in hers. Her fingers were cold. Trembling slightly.
"Listen to me, Avalon," my mother said, her voice fierce despite its softness, her eyes locked on mine with an intensity I'd rarely seen. "I didn't raise you to be someone's possession. I didn't raise you to give up your life because a bunch of Alphas decided you belonged to them."
"But David—"
"David Harper doesn't own you," she cut me off, her grip tightening on my hands. "No one owns you. Not unless you let them." I stared at her. My mother had always been careful around the Harpers. Polite. Deferential. I'd assumed she wanted this match as much as everyone else seemed to.
"I thought you wanted me to accept them," I whispered, confusion and hope warring in my chest.
She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"I want you to be happy," she said, reaching up to cup my face, her thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.
"I want you to have a life you chose, not one that was chosen for you.
If that life includes the Harper boys, fine.
But it should be your decision. When you're ready.
Not because four possessive Alphas and their father decided it was time. "
"They'll never let me go," I said, the words breaking on a sob. "You've seen how they look at me. How they watch me. Mason said tonight they want to discuss the future."
"Then we make sure you're not here for that discussion," my mother said simply, her jaw set with determination.
I blinked. "What?"
She released my hands and moved to my closet, pulling out a duffel bag I didn't recognize.
"I've been planning this for months," she said, setting the bag on the bed and unzipping it to reveal clothes, cash, documents.
"Just in case. Ever since you presented and I saw the way they started circling you like wolves. "
"Mom..."
"There's a car parked three blocks east," she continued, pulling items from the bag and laying them out methodically.
"Paid cash, registered under a name that doesn't trace back to us.
There's enough money here to get you started somewhere new.
And these—" She held up a small orange bottle, pills rattling inside.
"Suppressants. Enough for six months. After that, you'll need to find a doctor willing to prescribe more without asking too many questions. "
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My mother had been planning my escape while I'd been drowning in despair, convinced there was no way out.
"You go to the party tonight," she said, her voice steady even as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You let them see you. Dance with Mason. Talk to the others. Make them think everything is normal. Then, when the moment is right, you slip out the service entrance and you don't look back."
"What about you?" I grabbed her arm, panic rising. "If they find out you helped me—"
"Let me worry about that," she said firmly, covering my hand with hers. "I'll play the distraught mother. Shocked and heartbroken that my daughter ran away without a word. They'll believe it. David's always underestimated me."
"Mom, I can't let you—"
"Avalon." She took my face in her hands again, forcing me to meet her eyes.
"I have spent eighteen years protecting you.
Keeping you safe. Preparing you for whatever life throws at you.
This is what mothers do. We sacrifice. We plan.
We make sure our children have the chance to fly, even when it breaks our hearts to watch them go. "
I was crying now. Really crying. And so was she, tears streaming down her face even as she smiled.
"I love you," I choked out. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, baby," she whispered, pulling me into a fierce hug. "Now go wash your face, put on that dress, and go play the part of the dutiful Omega one last time. And then you run. You run and you don't stop until you've built a life that's yours. Understand?"
"I understand," I said against her shoulder, holding on like I might never let go.
She pulled back, wiping her eyes, composing herself with a skill that spoke to years of practice. "The service entrance. After eleven, when the catering staff starts packing up. There will be chaos. No one will notice one more person slipping out."
I nodded, memorizing every detail.
"And Avalon?" She paused at the door, looking back at me with something fierce and sad and proud all tangled together.
"If you ever decide you want to come back, if you ever decide those boys are worth staying for, that's okay too.
This isn't about running forever. It's about having the choice to run at all. "
Then she was gone, and I was alone with a bag full of escape supplies and a heart full of terrified hope.
The party was exactly as awful as I'd expected.
Mason found me within minutes of my arrival, his hand settling on the small of my back with practiced possessiveness.
At twenty-five, he'd already taken over most of the family's operations from David.
Already carried himself like he owned every room he walked into.
Already looked at me like I was something he'd been waiting his whole life to claim.
"Avalon," he said, his honey-brown eyes scanning my face like he could read every secret I'd ever kept. "You look beautiful tonight."
"Thank you," I replied, keeping my voice even, my expression neutral, betraying nothing of the escape plan burning in my mind.
"Dance with me," he said, and it wasn't a question. I let him lead me to the floor because my mother was right, I had to play the part. One last time. Mason held me close as we swayed, his scent wrapping around me like chains made of honey and smoke.
"You've been avoiding us," he observed quietly, his lips close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
"I've been busy," I lied, the words coming easier than I expected.
"For three years?" His hand tightened on my waist, a subtle reminder of his strength, his claim. I didn't answer. Just let him hold me and counted the minutes until I could slip away.
"We've been patient, Avalon," Mason continued, pulling back to meet my eyes, his gaze intense, searching. "We've given you time to adjust, to finish school. But you're eighteen now. It's time to discuss the future."
"Our future?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully blank.
"Our future," he confirmed, something fierce and possessive flickering in his honey-brown eyes. "You know what you are to us. What you've always been."
I did know. That was the problem. That was why I had to leave. The song ended. Mason released me reluctantly, his fingers trailing down my arm in a touch that felt like a brand, like he was marking me even without his teeth.
"Think about it," he said, stepping back but not looking away, not giving me even a moment of space. "We won't wait forever."
He walked away, and I stood in the middle of the dance floor, shaking.
Caleb found me on the balcony, where I'd escaped to gasp for air that didn't smell like Alpha possession.
At twenty-two, he was the youngest of the four, but already the biggest, a wall of muscle and quiet intensity.
The scars on his face made him look older, fiercer, but his eyes were always soft when they landed on me.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stood beside me, his massive frame blocking the wind, his scarred face turned up toward the stars. Waiting. Always waiting.
"You okay?" His deep voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid of spooking a wild animal.
"Fine," I said, the lie automatic by now. He was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. A bird. Carved from pale wood, wings spread mid-flight, beautiful in its delicacy.
"Made this for you," Caleb said, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the railing instead of me, a faint flush on his scarred cheeks. "You don't have to take it. Just... wanted you to have it."
He set it on the railing between us like an offering. Like a prayer.
"Caleb..." I started, guilt clawing at my throat.
"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted, his deep voice rumbling through the night air.
"I know you're not ready. I can wait. However long it takes, I can wait.
" He left before I could respond, disappearing back into the party, leaving me alone with a carved bird and a heart that felt like it was tearing in two.
I took the bird. Slipped it into my pocket. Told myself it was evidence of what I was escaping, not a piece of something I was losing.
Ethan cornered me near the bar, appearing at my elbow like he'd been tracking my movements all night.
He probably had been. At twenty-four, he'd already finished medical school, already published research papers that other doctors twice his age envied.
His mind was a steel trap, and right now it was focused entirely on me.
"Your stress hormones are elevated," he observed, his green eyes sharp behind his glasses, cataloging every micro-expression on my face. "You're distressed."
"I'm at a Harper party," I said flatly, reaching for a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking. "Everyone's stress hormones are elevated."