Chapter 11 - Rosalia
Rosalia thundered through the trees, her paws pounding over the earth. She didn’t care that she wasn’t quiet. Didn’t feel the branches whipping and catching at her fur. She barely even saw the path ahead of her.
All she knew was that she had to carry on running. Had to get out of there.
She inhaled lungful after lungful of icy night air, desperate to rid herself of the clawing panic in her chest.
It was too much. All of it was too much. Her father, her fear…
Rick.
She wanted to be strong. She wanted it so, so badly. She wanted her life to be her own. Her choices to be her own.
But she was so scared. And she longed for someone else to take it all away. And that was a weakness.
But maybe it isn’t.
She growled, pushing the voice away, the one that told her the only cage she was trapped in was one of her own making. One of her own stubbornness.
Rick told you. He told you it doesn’t make you weak to let him protect you.
Snarling, she pushed herself harder, willing the burn in her limbs to drown out her thoughts.
Maybe that’s what trust is? What a pack is? Allowing yourself to be vulnerable and rely on others’ strength, just as you offer them your own?
A heavy branch lashed her shoulder, and she welcomed the bite of pain, not allowing it to slow her down.
Rick didn’t understand. How could he? He was so strong, so powerful, so connected. Nobody would dare talk down to him, insult him, or seek to control him through the threat of violence. He wouldn’t let them. So how could he possibly understand what it was her father was doing to her?
No doubt he thought protecting her would be as simple as snapping his teeth at her father, sending him scurrying away. He didn’t know John Heath like she did. He didn’t know the grudges he could hold, the anger he could nurse within him, the patience he would have in making her one day pay for it.
And she had no idea how to explain it to him.
Better he just stay out of it. She’d always weathered her father’s storms; she’d always survived. She could keep on surviving.
Rick would only make things worse.
She thought of him standing in her room, eyes ablaze with fury, fists clenching as she refused to just acquiesce to his demands.
The heat in his gaze. The power in his body.
It had to be a trap. It was too seductive an idea, thinking that he could just make everything better if she simply handed herself over to him.
It wasn’t because he wanted to protect her. He just wanted to protect his image, his reputation, his pride.
He was an alpha male. And yes, he may not have hurt her, but he was a predator, and she’d be an idiot to forget it.
A wave of emotion crashed over her as her energy waned, and her precision faltered. She was crashing into more trees than she was swerving, her eyes blinded by tears, her lungs burning.
She crashed to a halt, her breath clouding as she hung her head, legs trembling.
She could not cry. Not as a wolf. And so she shifted back into a human and howled out her grief into the silent forest. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs as she finally allowed her emotions to take control.
There was no use denying it.
She wanted him. Wanted Rick. Wanted to trust him, let him in, let him make everything better for her. She wanted to be free of this aching weight in her chest. The suspicion, the fear, the guilt, all of it kept her dragging and clawing through her life.
Why couldn’t she just let it go?
She thought of Eva, of her happy smiles and fearless optimism and unending trust. She was so good and pure and innocent.
Rosalia wanted that. She wanted it so badly she thought it would burn her up.
But she couldn’t have it. Not in the way Eva had it. Eva was a child, protected and sheltered, and Rosalia wished with all her heart that she would always stay that way.
But Rosalia…
She had lived in darkness for so long, she feared she would never find her way out again.
Collapsing to her knees, she buried her fingers into the earth, feeling the life of the forest around her.
At least she had this. This one moment, where she didn’t have to be anything for anyone. She could sit, cradled in the dirt, naked as the day she was born, and finally just stop.
Rick would not come after her. He had said he wouldn’t, and for better or for worse, Rosalia believed him. He would not chase her down.
Her father had. Back when she had been foolish enough to believe she could run away from him.
Even though she was a shifter, the wounds he had left her with took three days to fully heal.
John Heath didn’t like it when his property tried to leave him.
Her father.
He didn’t deserve the title.
John Heath was a cold, cruel man. A manipulative abuser.
A few tears dropped to the ground.
She didn’t know how she could free herself from him. Didn’t know how to let him go.
For a brief, wild moment, she wished Rick were there.
At least…at least it seemed like he wanted to help. Wanted to be on her side. It was a paltry thing, but…
It was more than she’d ever been given before.
But Rick wasn’t coming. He’d said he’d let her go, that he wouldn’t pursue her for any other reason than to ensure her safety.
And after the argument, after she’d turned tail and fled, Rosalia doubted he would even want to follow her.
After all, she was still within Iron Walker territory. She was perfectly safe…
Her blood froze to ice.
Glancing up at the sky with mounting panic, she looked at the moon. The stars. Sniffed the air.
She’d run north.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It was the one thing he’d asked her not to do. The northern border of Iron Walker territory was shared with the Black Claws.
And the Black Claws were dangerous.
Hesitantly, she climbed to her feet, hands trembling.
Okay, Rosalia, don’t panic. It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. Just…just turn west.
She had no idea how close she had gotten to the border, how long she’d been running. Surely, she wouldn’t be anywhere near it. Iron Walker territory was huge.
A rustling in the undergrowth made her squeak, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Nothing. It was nothing. Just an animal.
The Black Claws wouldn’t dare come into Iron Walker territory. The disputes were all at the border.
Are you so sure about that?
Her heart pounded in her ears, and she realized she needed to make a decision.
Needed to leave. Cold, blunt panic cut through every other emotion.
She shouldn’t run. Not now. Not in this state.
She should head back to the manor, wait for sunrise, and make a plan then.
She could follow her own scent back; it would be fine.
A branch snapped close to her, too close, just beyond the limits of her vision.
You need to go. Now.
All her instincts were screaming at her to turn tail and run. Her hair stood up on end, and her breathing was fast and shallow. Her muscles thrummed with renewed energy.
Cautiously, she scented the air. The wind was blowing north, rustling through her hair, and she frowned.
Damn. She wouldn’t be able to catch a scent of anything coming north.
But anything coming south, towards her, would pick up her scent perfectly.
She should shift. She would be faster as a wolf.
But not faster than other wolves, especially not alphas. And her scent would be much stronger.
Another branch snapped, and she reared backwards.
She was just being paranoid. There was nothing there. Nothing is coming for her.
The best thing to do would be to turn around, travel a bit as a human to keep her scent to a minimum, until she was confident she was far enough back into Iron Walker territory to shift into a wolf.
Slowly, she turned around, tucking her tangled hair behind her ears and cautiously approaching the ravaged mess of a trail she had left.
An almighty growl ripped through the air behind her, and she froze.
Then another one came.
And another.
Three of them. Approaching fast. Their claws scrape the earth.
Her heart stopped beating.
The sound of cracking bones and ripping fur echoed from the trees, accompanied by the low, amused huffs of two who had chosen to stay as wolves.
Her legs turned to stone.
She couldn’t move.
“Well, well, well,” a sardonic voice drawled, “look what we’ve managed to find.”
It was the mockery in his voice that finally broke her from her paralysis.
She remembered him. From the Eastern Alliance Meeting.
Carter. Cocky son of the Black Claws alpha.
He’d gotten rather drunk and made a lewd comment about her.
And now he was here. Far beyond the border.
And he had found her.
She turned, arms crossing across her breasts to cover them. She tried to make the movement look natural rather than defensive. Shifters were much more comfortable with nudity than humans, but she was still a lone female staring down three terrifyingly huge alphas.
“You’re trespassing,” she said, her voice cold and clear, free of any stammer.
She’d been faking confidence in the face of alpha males her whole life. And now, it might be the only way to make it out of this confrontation alive.
Most hunters liked their prey scared.
She would not show them fear.
Carter laughed, his eyes flashing, his muscles rippling.
He was at least a foot taller than her. Not to mention an easy hundred pounds heavier. And even if she was stupid enough to think she’d walk away from him attacking, there were his two packmates pacing behind him, their eyes fixed on her form.
She swallowed. And raised an imperious brow.
“This is Iron Walker territory. And you are not Iron Walkers. I suggest you leave now before one of our patrols finds you.”
“Hear that,” Carter leered to one of the wolves, “she’s giving us a chance to run away! How generous you are, sweetheart.”
She scoffed, her eyes trained on him. “One chance. I will not give you a second.”
Carter looked at her, his eyes lazily traveling the expanse of her naked body. She snapped her teeth at him, and his eyes jumped back to her face, his grin near feral.