Chapter Eleven
I Won’t Let Him Hurt You Again
IMOGEN GALLAGHER
The next morning...
I’m alone in the mornings as long as I don’t leave my room. No one comes to look for me. No one bothers me here.
Today the familiar rhythmic heartbeat of my antique clock isn’t comforting. Instead each ticking second is a relentless echo of time’s cruel march toward an inevitable future. A future with Aiden. A future that leaves no room for Liam.
Leaning my forehead against the cold windowpane of my bedroom, I shut my eyes, desperate to block out the world. The chill seeping into my skin offers a fleeting reprieve from the hot, simmering anger mixed with a fierce, choking helplessness that boils within me.
I’ve always been aware of my status as a pawn in my father’s twisted games. Yet I never thought it would get this bad. Or maybe I just secretly believed I’d never be forced to lay myself bare on the altar of his ruthless ambition.
A firm knock on my door snatches me from my spiral of thoughts. My heart flutters, jittery like a captured bird.
“Gen?” Aiden’s voice seeps through the solid barrier of my door, tender as a whisper.
“Aiden,” I respond to the lifeless room, as if the act of uttering his name could somehow dilute the sharp sting blossoming in my chest. I peel my forehead off the cold glass and then, with trembling hands, smooth down my rumpled blouse.
It’s just Aiden. Just the man I’m being forced to marry. Just the man who isn’t Liam.
With a sigh, I open the door to reveal him, standing in the hall, dressed in boots and jeans, a light blue shirt, and a gentle smile on his handsome face. He extends his hand. “Ready to escape for a while this morning?” His calm baritone timbre provides a brief respite to the worry ping-ponging in my head.
His presence doesn’t spark fury, nor does it ignite joy. It simply underlines once again the inevitability of my fate.
My gaze flickers from Aiden to the gilded cage called my room, and back again. No hesitation. I place my hand in his. His touch is warm, completely opposite to the icy tendrils of dread curling in the pit of my stomach.
“Lead the way,” I say, managing to offer him a strained smile. I want to escape, need to escape. But as we step into the hallway, I wish it was Liam’s hand holding mine.
Despite the temporary freedom Aiden offers, I’m painfully aware that it’s not truly freedom at all. It’s another cage, maybe a kinder, gentler one. But still a cage. And my gratitude for Aiden’s kindness is marred by a nagging melancholy. Given a choice, I’d flee this nightmare with Liam at my side.
Aiden guides me through the labyrinth of my father’s house, toward the driveway where his truck purrs softly. He assists me into the passenger seat. I look back at the house, unable to shake off an unsettling chill crawling up my spine.
Sure enough, my father stands at the window of his office, watching us leave.
I flash back to yesterday—my father pointing a gun at me, the deafening sound of the gunshot, the relief of realizing it was the guard, not me, he’d shot. The man had paid the price for a perceived disloyalty, a treachery initiated by Meredith’s glamouring spell. The magick had made the guard take us to Denver without telling my father. It was our fault.
My fault.
I’d protected Meredith’s secret.
The drive unfurls like a long, drawn-out breath. We abandon the jagged mountainside and leave Ash Hollow shrinking in the rearview mirror. The truck weaves a serpentine dance along the main road, tracing the wild contours of the river.
He’s taking me to his home.
My future home.
A hollow sorrow seeps into my heart, its cold threads wrapping around my spirit. The reality of it threatens to drown me. I would have to make a home with this man, fashion a life. Bear children. How am I going to do that?
My life hadn’t led me toward O’Connor territory and the quaint town of White Fork until today. My father’s restrictions saw to that, and it was a boundary I’d never found the courage to defy.
And yet the end of the valley that belongs to Aiden is stunning and I find myself smiling in appreciation. Cresting a hill, a breathtaking sigh unfolds—the lake, a brilliant expanse of cobalt blue.
White Rock Lake is the heart of this end of the valley and the namesake of the picturesque town nestled on its northern shore. Homes, like sprinkles of confetti, dot the forested landscape, tucked neatly into the rolling hills and the river’s winding journey toward the lake.
All this beauty, these people with their families and homes, this thriving land...my father craves it all. And so does my uncle. This marriage, the lie that there’s a real romance between Aiden and me, is the only thing keeping Uncle Dave from outright going to war with my father and taking everything the O’Connors call their own.
And now I understand the draw.
Aiden maneuvers the truck down a long driveway, flanked on either side by forest. A couple miles later, I glance at him.
“Welcome to my home,” he says, and there’s a note of pride in his voice that makes me smile despite myself. He points ahead, drawing my gaze to a house materializing from the sea of towering pines.
Half house, half cabin, it is a rustic marvel of stone and wood, resting comfortably amid the whispering pines. A huge contrast to the sterile, modern fortress I reluctantly call home. Aiden’s house radiates a sense of warmth, a promise of a sanctuary, contradicting the gnawing dread nested in my heart.
No, this place...it hums with an essence, a soul. It pulses with the warmth and allure of what I’ve always imagined a home should be. It doesn’t stand as a dazzling facade for the world to admire or fear; it promises comfort, familiarity.
Aiden parks right in front of the cabin, springing out of the truck before my thoughts can latch onto any form of coherence. His hand, a lifeline, extends to me again and its familiar heat curls around my fingers as I slide out of the truck.
Suddenly, the front door of his cabin bursts open and a wave of people spill out.
My body instinctively recoils, pulling against Aiden’s steadfast hold.
“It’s okay. I promise.” His deep voice soothes the momentary panic and I fall into step with him again.
A flurry of faces, names, and greetings engulf me. They are his family, his pack, his tribe. They’re kind, friendly, and I can see the esteem and respect they hold for Aiden.
It’s not the fearful, enforced reverence birthed from fear that my father commands. It’s earned and genuine and freely given. And that alone warms my soul. My father could’ve given me to anyone. But Aiden is a good man, a good leader.
It’s just...he’s not the one I want.
And the one I really want to see is nowhere to be found. Probably for the best.
“My dear,” a nurturing voice lilts, breaking through the ambient noise. A petite woman, clad in a blue T-shirt, jeans, boots, and a smile bright enough to chase away some of the anxiety threatening to choke me. “I’m Aiden’s mother, Eleanor, and I’ve been waiting very impatiently to meet you. Welcome to the family.”
She embraces me like I really belong to her. Not like this is an arranged marriage. Not like they’re taking me because this is the best deal for them at the time. She embraces me like she really wants to. Like she really means welcome .
Tears burn behind my eyelids, threatening to overflow. “I—thank you.”
“Mom, would you chase off everyone for now? I want a little time with Gen. I’ll bring her over for lunch in an hour or so.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. So good to finally meet you, Imogen. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny bundle in a blanket.”
Blanket. She’d seen me as a baby? The question hangs in the air, but before I can untangle my thoughts, she’s whisked herself away, a bustling matriarch herding her flock away from the house. They pile into various cars parked on the side of the house and leave without resistance.
Her brief interaction leaves me with so many questions. Had she known my mother? What could she tell me about her?
My father never talks about my mother and refuses to say anything about her when asked other than that she had been the love of his life and losing her had broken his heart.
It’s hard to reconcile that sentiment with the Oliver Gallagher I know—the one seemingly incapable of loving anything beyond himself.
“Sorry about that, they all insisted on getting to see you in person. Everyone understands our marriage is arranged. But they want you to know that you’re part of the pack, no conditions.” Aiden gestures toward the front door of the cabin. “Please?”
His home. A sanctuary. A haven. I can navigate this labyrinth of unknowns. I can weather this storm. I can.
“It’s okay and thank you. I do appreciate you trying to make this as pleasant for me as you can. I know my father is...very unsettling.”
“Unsettling.” Aiden’s tone curls around the word, shaping it into something harsh. “That’s an understatement if ever there was one.”
“True, but I’ve survived so far.” I want to laugh but I can’t find it inside me.
Aiden opens the door and ushers me into his domain. The scent of the house surrounds me, a tangible reminder of its occupant. It smells of worn leather, of pine whispering tales of the mountains, and of him—an enticing blend of commanding masculinity interlaced with the soft sweetness of honey and the clean aroma of soap.
It’s a comforting smell. Living with this wouldn’t be so terrible. His chunky leather couch and worn wooden coffee table look homey. I itch to grab the cream-colored blanket from the corner and curl up with a book.
“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s home and—”
“Please don’t.” My interruption stills his words. “Your home is lovely. I hate my father’s house. He built it as a monument to his ego, a testament to his rivalry with his brother and a showpiece for his business associates. To my father, appearances and power are everything. That house is nothing more to me than a marble prison.”
Shock flickers across Aiden’s face, rapidly chased away by a surge of anger darkening his warm brown eyes. “I give you my word to help you live as free as I can once we’re married. I know this is arranged. I know I’m not your choice, but I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m another prison.”
“But you are,” I confess.
Aiden’s face tightens, a flash of wounded surprise crossing his handsome features. His eyes, warm pools of rich brown, dim ever so slightly. It’s as if my words have punctured something within him too, and for a moment, a raw, naked vulnerability mirrors my own angst.
I shouldn’t have said it.
I should’ve let him believe he could soften the harsh edges of my reality. But I knew better. I knew our impending marriage was a move on the chessboard, a pawn sacrificed in the opening credits of the grand show my father had planned.
“I’m sorry,” I start again, my voice strained, the desperate need to make him understand burning beneath my breastbone. “I do appreciate your sentiment. It’s just... I’ve lived in the shadow of my father’s cruelty a lot longer than you. Oliver Gallagher is a master at this game. He’s a chess player who, with a well-placed distraction, manipulates everyone around him into believing the game is merely checkers.”
“He will never touch you again once we’re bonded.”
If only I could believe that was true.
Being bonded to Aiden doesn’t guarantee my safety. It merely solidifies my father’s control over him. I open my mouth to tell him as much, but hesitate. Instead, a different warning slips free. A warning that won’t stop the plan, but maybe it will help.
“Just be wary, Aiden. My father is unpredictable and he never reveals his full hand.”
“Understood.” Aiden’s response is curt, and his tone carries the steel of determination. He gestures for me to follow him deeper into the heart of his cabin.
As we cross through the living space, I find my eyes drawn to the pictures of smiling faces on the mantelpiece, the well-used books neatly stacked on a short bookshelf. There’s a lived-in warmth that embraces me, nudging at the edges of my apprehension.
I can see myself curled up on the couch, a book in hand, the fire crackling in the large hearth. For a single moment, I wish for such a quiet, carefree life where Oliver Gallagher cannot reach me.
It’ll never happen.
“Would you sit with me?” Aiden gestures toward a rustic kitchen table in front of a bay window overlooking the lake. “All this talk of games and cards makes me want to be sure we speak openly before the wedding. Can I get you a glass of water?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He pulls out a chair and I take a seat. The view mesmerizes me, a tranquil setting compared with the tension thrumming inside my chest.
“You can talk to me about anything, Gen. I want this marriage to be a partnership, not a dictatorship.” Aiden’s words resonate with sincerity, embedding themselves deep within the crevices of my guarded heart.
This marriage. A pang of despair seizes my heart, tempting me to flee. But I suppress the urge, knowing well that running now would be cowardly and selfish, and I’m neither of those things. “I appreciate you saying that, but—” I thread my fingers through a loose piece of my hair, untangling a small knot.
Crazy as it is, the impending marriage isn’t what needs addressing right now.
As Aiden moves to the fridge to fill a glass of water, my eyes follow him, tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, weighed down by a deep, personal loss.
He returns, setting the glass before me, and as he takes a seat, the flicker of sadness in his eyes is impossible to miss. It’s a reflection of the profound pain I know he’s wrestling with. A pain that mirrors the anguish nesting in my soul.
“Tell me about her, please. The mate, the wife, you lost.”
He hesitates, a shadow of pain crossing his features before he gives me a barely perceptible nod. “Ember... Ember was adventurous and brave and had the biggest heart. If anyone needed anything, she would be there first in line to help. She would’ve liked you.”
“She sounds like an amazing person.”
Fidgeting, rubbing his hands together as if fighting an unseen battle, he admits, “She was.”
“What happened?” I prompt gently, a wave of empathy washing over me.
“It was a car accident.”
His words strike me like a gust of chilling wind, freezing me in shock. Most Moonbound wolves can heal from even the most serious injuries.
“The injuries were beyond even Fate’s magick. My father died in the same accident—my mother was the only survivor.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my heart aching for his loss.
He’s been through so much. And now he has to deal with my father. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good man.
“He will use your honor against you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Panic surges in my veins. What am I thinking? But I continue anyway, a wave of desperation crashing over me. “He’s going to threaten me to control you.”
I can see it in my mind’s eye, my father using Aiden, squeezing him in his vise-like grip. But instead of shrinking away from my words, Aiden fixes me with a determined stare.
“Yes, Gen,” he acknowledges, a grim certainty in his voice. “After his demonstration at the restaurant I knew that would be the case. But listen to me: I will fight for you. I will protect you with the fierceness a mate and wife deserves. And so will my pack.”
His vow resonates in the air, heavy with promise and the echo of battle yet to come. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse them permission to fall.
Despite the circumstances, despite the fact that I wish I could choose differently, I find myself hoping that maybe, just maybe, Aiden and I can find a way to make this work. After all, we’re both victims in this game, pawns in a larger scheme. Maybe together, we can turn this into something bearable.
And maybe I can find a way to protect everyone from whatever my father has planned.