4. Zoey
ZOEY
I sat at the kitchen table, drumming my fingers restlessly against the wood.
I glanced at the clock again. It had been more than a week since I’d arrived in Boldercrest, a fortnight since I’d left George, yet his influence continued to loom over me.
The constant pricking sensation at the back of my neck made me feel like someone was watching or following me.
The cars passing outside made me jump, and every creak of the house heightened my unease.
My hand trembled as I picked up the new phone Sam had gotten for me.
The text alert had sent me into a tailspin.
I had to remind myself that no one could trace me through this phone, especially not George.
There was no digital trail in my name. We’d made it look as if I had gone completely off-grid.
I’d deleted all my dormant social media and email accounts, and since George hadn’t allowed me my own phone, he had no way to track me.
Sam was my shield now, the barrier between me and the man who thought he owned me.
But no matter how many layers I put between us, the fear that George would appear refused to leave me.
George James had a way of getting what he wanted, and no one had ever said no to him.
He had deep pockets, and resources I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
He’d find me. But I would be prepared.
As Ro walked into the kitchen, I marveled at how much he’d relaxed in just two weeks. I would do everything in my power to preserve that, to give him the childhood he deserved.
“Does my Ro-Ro monster want some breakfast?” I asked, tickling his sides. His uncontrollable giggles soothed my fractured soul.
After giving him one last tickle, I guided him to his seat at the table. “Can I have eggs on toast, please, Mommy?”
“Well, since you asked so politely.”
I cracked an egg into a sizzling pan, the sharp pop and hiss almost drowning out the whirl of thoughts in my head.
While I made breakfast, Roland sat and concentrated on assembling the puzzle Sam had bought him.
Despite that it was labeled for ages ten-plus, Roland breezed through it without any difficulties.
His tongue poked out between his teeth, and his black hair fell over his forehead as he concentrated.
“Mom?” Roland asked, looking up at me. “Will Dad find us?”
The question hit me like a punch to the gut, and I quickly schooled my expression into something calm and reassuring. “No, baby, we’re safe here.”
But the truth was, I didn’t know if we were safe.
Not really. George was out there, and even though he had no real pack to command, his goons were loyal enough to do his dirty work.
I shuddered at the thought of them finding Roland.
He was next in line to be alpha, a title that held significance even though George didn’t have a traditional pack, only a twisted empire.
I had been anxious that George might report me for kidnapping.
I’d crossed a major line when I took his son away.
But Roland had seen too much, heard too much.
No child should have knowledge of such things, but it would work in our favor if George dared to drag us to court.
Even then, I’d only involve Roland as a last resort.
The phone Lucas had provided me with had been put to good use.
I had an arsenal of evidence in the form of photos and videos that painted a story no one could ignore or sway with bribery.
I’d uploaded it all to the cloud before ditching the phone.
I flipped the eggs onto a plate as I considered my own future. If I really wanted a new life, I needed a job, one where I wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder every second. And maybe a small apartment, with neighbors who wouldn’t ask questions. Somewhere I could finally breathe.
“Breakfast is ready,” I said, pushing aside the image of George’s scowling green eyes. I had to focus on what was ahead, not what I’d left behind.
“Thanks, Mom,” Roland said, his voice echoing through the kitchen. I was free from George, but freedom was bittersweet. It felt claustrophobic, like a room with walls too close together. As I watched Roland eat, I knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let those walls close in on us ever again.
“Did you get the text?” Heather asked as she walked into the kitchen.
I looked up from the sink, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. “The one from the gym? Yeah, I got it.” My voice was steady despite the flutter in my stomach. The first self-defense class was this afternoon. It was a concrete move toward something like security.
She leaned against the counter and studied me. “Three o’clock. You ready for it?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “Not exactly excited to learn how to throw a punch, but...” I shrugged.
Heather nodded, understanding flashing in her eyes. “It’s not just about fighting, Zoey. You’re taking back control.”
“Exactly. After... everything, it feels like I’ve completely lost myself.
Like I was molded into George’s ideal version of me.
It’s been a while since I felt like I have control over my own life.
It’s all such a twisted mess. Doing this class, for myself, might bring a tiny piece of Zoey back.
And it has the added benefit that I’ll be able to defend myself, so it’s a win-win.
” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “Thanks for doing this with me.”
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Just because I’m a shifter with fighting instincts doesn’t mean I can’t continue to grow and develop. Besides, I’m not letting you go at this alone.”
Her support was a lifeline, an anchor in a world that had been turned upside down, yet I couldn’t completely shake off the fear. But fears could be faced, especially when you had someone by your side.
“Do you have any workout clothes?” Heather asked. “I’d lend you something, but you’re about four feet taller than me. And you wear boats, not shoes.”
“You exaggerate,” I said, determined to shake off the melancholy and embrace Heather’s light-hearted enthusiasm. “I’m only two feet taller, and I wear canoes, not boats.”
Heather stared at me, momentarily stunned, before she barked out a laugh. “ Zoey ! ” she said, dragging my name out like she had when we were kids. “You made a funny?”
We laughed, and Roland’s puzzled look only made us laugh harder.
Once I regained my composure, I groaned. “I don’t have anything appropriate for a self-defense class. We’re going to have to go shopping again.”
Heather couldn’t contain her excitement. She grabbed Roland’s hand and twirled him around the kitchen. “We’re going shopping, we’re going shopping!”
“Mom, do I have to go shopping? Can I see Grandpa Sam today instead?” Roland asked softly, and the hope in his eyes tugged at my heart.
“Of course, sweetie.” I ruffled his black hair affectionately as we walked to the back door. His eyes, so similar to George’s in color, held none of the calculating cruelty. Instead, they brimmed with innocence and curiosity. “You like spending time with Sam, don’t you?”
Roland nodded and smiled. He showed me a small remote control transponder he’d been tinkering with for days now. “Grandpa Sam’s teaching me how to build a remote control car. When it’s working, he’s going to show me how to drive it.”
We strolled to Sam’s house, basking in the sun’s warmth.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward, but rather filled with things left unsaid.
I wondered if Roland was aware of the fear that had been my constant companion, and if he could feel the gradual easing of tension as George’s hold on our lives slowly weakened.
We stopped in front of Sam’s place, and Roland’s smile widened a fraction. “Grandpa Sam!”
“Hey, champ!” Sam greeted him with open arms. I watched them for a moment, the tension in my shoulder easing slightly. Roland seemed lighter around Sam.
“Be good, okay?” I called out as Roland walked into Sam’s house.
He turned to wave at me, his face lit up with pure childlike joy. I jogged back to Heather’s and got into the waiting car.
“Shopping center next,” Heather stated, watching me closely.
“Right.” The word came out flat. Thinking about George had brought him to the forefront of my mind. Shopping felt like such a mundane activity, yet nothing was mundane anymore. Not when every move might lead me back into a nightmare.
The shopping center buzzed with the noise of people milling around, lost in their own worlds. I envied them. I wished I could have that kind of normalcy again.
As we stepped into a sports store, my eyes widened at the array of clothing. There was so much. I touched a tank top, trying to ground myself in the moment instead of thinking about the past.
“Zoey?” Heather’s voice lanced through the fog in my mind. “You okay?”
I blinked, feeling the world tilt slightly. My hand trembled against the cool material. “Yeah, just... a lot of choices.”
“Try this one,” Heather said, holding up a lavender spandex top with a plunging neckline. “The color is perfect for you. It’ll make your eyes pop.”
I hesitated, the fabric slipping through my fingers like water. It was more revealing than what I was comfortable with. The sudden image of George’s sneer sent a tremor through me, and my hands started shaking uncontrollably.
“Zoey? What’s wrong?”
I tried to speak, but the words got tangled up with the memories. “George,” I managed to choke out before my whole body was taken over with tremors.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Heather pulled me into her arms. “He can’t hurt you here. You’re safe, I promise.”
I nodded, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly until the tightness in my chest loosened slightly at her touch.
“You can’t keep living like this, Zoey. Have you thought about talking to someone? A therapist, maybe?” Heather asked gently, still holding me, shielding me from other customers.