Chapter 4

When I woke up, the first thing I heard was the soft, steady beeping of a machine. Dull voices drifted in from the hallway, muffled but close enough to make out.

“Is she up yet?”

That voice. I knew it. The big man from the woods. The one who carried me like I weighed nothing. The one who said I was his.

“No, Alpha Festar. I gave her sedatives a couple of hours ago. She’s still recovering,” the doctor replied. “Even after her leg heals, she won’t be out of danger. She’s severely malnourished, has little to no muscle mass, and clearly hasn’t been allowed outdoors much, if at all. Honestly, I’m surprised she managed to run as far as she did.”

“Is there anything else wrong, Richard?”

There was a long pause. Then the doctor’s voice came again, softer this time, hesitant.

“She has minor cuts and bruises, but those will heal soon. There’s something else though. And you have to stay calm when I say this.”

“What is it?”

“Wherever she was, she wasn’t there by choice. The bruising on her wrists and ankles shows signs of prolonged restraint. Her body has old scars, many of them. Deep ones. I can’t begin to imagine what she’s endured. But whatever it was… it wasn’t quick. And it wasn’t kind.”

“What did they do to her?” Festar’s voice shook the walls, sharp and furious.

“I don’t know,” Richard said. “But I do know this — she’s been through hell. There’s no medical reason for her silence. She has vocal cords. She could speak if she wanted. But she chooses not to. That kind of silence isn’t physical. It’s psychological.”

There was another pause, and then the doctor continued, his voice even lower now.

“I also think she may be a teenager. But with her body so malnourished and her growth likely stunted, I can’t be sure of her actual age.”

“I don’t understand,” Festar said, his voice thick with frustration. “She’s my mate. She should feel the bond by now. She must know what we mean to each other.”

I heard his footsteps, heavy and getting closer. That was when the panic kicked in. I threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, searching for any exit.

In the cabin, when they got angry, things turned violent. There were nights I didn’t think I’d make it to morning. Nights I begged for it to end.

I wasn’t going back to that.

There were no windows in the room, just two doors. One led to the hall. The other — I hoped — would get me away from him.

Pain shot through my leg the moment I stood. I gasped and nearly crumpled, grabbing the edge of the bed to steady myself. When I looked down, I saw the hospital gown and the stitched-up mess of my leg. It was healing, maybe. But my thigh was bleeding again, a slow trickle working its way down my calf.

The doorknob turned. My heart jumped.

Without thinking, I bolted into the next room.

It was a bathroom.

I looked around frantically, then ducked into the shower and pulled the curtain closed, pressing myself against the cold tile. I knew he would find me. I wasn’t stupid. But this moment, this tiny pocket of silence, was all I had to gather what little strength remained.

I forced myself to breathe. Deep in, deep out. I counted the seconds as his footsteps got closer.

Then the curtain flew back.

There he was. Festar. His expression was tight, his jaw clenched, brows drawn together in a mix of panic and anger. I curled in on myself, crying again without realizing I’d even started. My body shook, but I didn’t speak. Just stared at him, eyes wide.

His face shifted. That hard expression softened into something confused.

“Why did you hide?”

His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t harsh. That alone threw me off.

Before I could even process it, the door behind him burst open.

“What are you doing, Festar?” a woman’s voice snapped. She was young, maybe twenty, with long blond hair and eyes the color of honey.

“I… I don’t know, Hazel,” Festar said, backing away slightly. “I came to check on her. She ran.”

“You probably scared her half to death,” Hazel said, her voice sharp. “She hasn’t had the best couple of days. Maybe next time, don’t stomp into her room like a damn alpha bull.”

I watched them, silent. Somewhere between their arguing and my panic, I had stopped crying. Now I just stared, tired and cornered, blood still sliding down my leg.

Hazel turned to me and crouched slightly.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I’m Hazel. Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you. And neither is he.” She nodded toward Festar.

Festar let out a low growl, frustrated and restless.

I flinched and curled into a tighter ball.

“Festar. Stop it,” Hazel snapped again. “You’re scaring her.”

He looked ashamed. That expression, seeing this powerful man being scolded by someone half his size, should have made me laugh. But all I could do was stare. Hazel was only a little taller than me. A tiny thing next to him. Yet she stood firm.

When I looked at Festar again, his eyes were filled with guilt. It twisted something in me. I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to feel anything. But part of me hated seeing him upset.

“Go find Dave,” Hazel said. “I’ll help her get cleaned up.”

Festar hesitated.

“Go,” she repeated.

He turned, slowly, and walked out of the room. And for a brief, confusing moment, I felt something sink in my chest as I watched him leave.

I didn’t want to feel sad.

But I did.

And I hated that most of all.