Chapter 5

Once Festar storms out of the room, I shift my eyes back to Hazel.

“Sorry about him,” she says gently. “He’s just… protective, especially with you being his mate and all. He freaked out when you didn’t wake up for days.”

She inches toward me, slow, careful, like I’m a wild animal she doesn’t want to spook. Hands up, no sudden moves.

I don’t get it. Why is she even helping me? Why does she care? I don’t want to be here. I don’t want anyone. I want to be alone. Free. No orders. No fear. I could survive in the woods. I did it before.

Before they took me, I had a pack. My parents were the Alphas. But I didn’t get far enough. I wasn’t thirteen. I hadn’t shifted. I didn’t get trained. All I knew were scraps, whispers, rules that meant nothing when I was dragged away.

Hazel catches the confusion on my face and tilts her head.

“Do you know a lot about werewolves?” she asks.

I shrug.

“You were in a pack before?”

I nod.

“Did you go rogue?”

I shake my head.

“Did you leave?”

I shrug again. I didn’t leave. I was taken. Gone. Ripped away.

“Did you leave with your family?”

I shake my head.

Her voice softens. “Were you taken by strangers?”

I nod.

“For how long?”

I raise ten fingers.

She blinks. “Ten weeks?”

I shake my head.

Her eyes widen. “Ten… years?”

I nod, and her tears fall before I can even process it.

She throws her arms around me, tight and warm, and for once… it doesn’t hurt. I let it happen.

She cleans my leg, gentle. The doctor comes back to stitch it up, and this time he speaks before he does anything. He numbs the skin. The needles burn going in. I turn my head away while he works. Hazel stays. Watching. Maybe guarding. I don’t know yet.

We hang out after that. She talks nonstop. About the pack. About dumb stuff. I don’t say anything. Just watch her. And plan.

The second she leaves to grab food, I’m up. Quiet, fast. I test the door.

It’s unlocked.

I crack it open, peek out, step into the hall. No one.

I head right.

The hallway opens to a bigger one. There’s a desk, empty. I look past it. Double doors. Outside.

I don’t think. I move.

Sun hits my face like a slap and I squint, shielding my eyes. Field ahead. Woods at the edge.

Freedom.

I start walking faster, ignoring the ache in my leg. People are nearby, but not watching. Not yet.

Almost there.

Then I hear yelling. My name?

I start to run.

But before I can make it, strong arms wrap around me from behind and lift me clean off the ground.

I thrash, panic rising fast. I scream without sound, twisting, kicking.

“Calm down,” a voice murmurs, deep, steady.

It’s Festar.

My body freezes.

I know that voice. I hate that voice. I crave that voice.

The warmth of him confuses me. The panic dies, but the tears come. Silent. Hot.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just carries me back.

Hazel’s waiting in the doorway when we reach the building. She looks worried. Arms crossed.

Festar puts me down and steps back, exhaling like he’s tired of trying. He walks off without a word.

Hazel watches him go, then looks at me.

“Let’s go back inside,” she says. “It’s going to get dark soon.”

She walks in.

I hesitate. Glance toward the woods. But Festar is still there, standing near a house, watching me with his hands in his pockets.

I turn and follow Hazel inside.

Safer.

For now.

We get back to the room. Hazel sits by the window, staring out.

“I don’t know what you’re scared of,” she says quietly. “And I don’t know what happened to you. But nobody’s gonna hurt you here. Ever again.”

She still won’t look at me.

“I get that you’re gonna try to run,” she adds. “But at least wait until you’re healed. You’ll hurt yourself worse like this.”

I don’t answer. Just walk to the bed and sit down, cross-legged.

She grabs a sandwich and hands it to me. I give her the smallest smile. A crack in the stone.

I take a bite.

She eats, too. Quiet. No pressure.

Later, she’s playing with this glowing little square. Shows pictures. Moves with her fingers.

“It’s called an iPhone,” she says, seeing my curious glance. “You can text, call, scroll… Watch movies.”

I remember phones—old ones, the kind you flipped open. This thing is magic.

Hazel hands me clothes: shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. I head to the bathroom and change. Feels weird wearing real clothes again. Soft. Clean.

She tells me I’m staying overnight. I perk up until she adds, “Just in the hospital.”

The disappointment must show on my face because she sighs.

“You’re not ready to leave just yet,” she says gently. “But soon.”

She asks if I’m tired. I shrug.

Then she asks if I want to watch a movie.

I nod.

We lie on the bed and watch something called The Notebook.

By the end, I’m crying. Just a little. I glance over. She’s crying, too.

Hazel wipes her eyes and stands. “I gotta head home,” she says. “But I’ll be back in the morning. Promise.”