Chapter 8: The Escape

Lola Pov

"I don’t know you. Get your hands off me right now." I yanked my arm back so hard the muscle in my shoulder twinged.

Jax didn’t look embarrassed. He didn't even look around to see if anyone was watching. He just leaned in, his shadow falling over me.

"Tristain is waiting for you at home, Lola. You’re not getting on that plane."

"Watch me."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I shoved past him, putting my shoulder into his chest with a strength that surprised both of us.

He stumbled back a step, just enough for me to bolt toward the gate.

"Lola!" he barked behind me.

I ignored him. I ran. I showed my boarding pass to the woman at the gate with shaking hands. She looked at my face, then at the man shouting behind the security line.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"He's a stalker," I said, my voice cracking. "Please. Just let me through."

She scanned the pass quickly. "Hurry, we’re about to close the doors."

I practically fell into the jet bridge. I heard Jax shouting something about a medical emergency, but the gate agent held up a hand to stop him. I didn't look back until I was in my seat, the heavy door of the plane clicking shut with a finality that made me want to sob.

I sat rigid in 4A, staring out the window as the runway blurred. My heart was a drum in my chest. Every time a flight attendant walked past, I flinched, expecting Tristain to walk out from the cockpit.

My wolf was pacing in small, tight circles. She was on high alert, her hackles up, sniffing the air for the scent of sandalwood and betrayal.

We landed in the new city four hours later. It was a place where the Herdez pack had no influence, a neutral human hub. I took a cab to the penthouse I’d booked weeks ago under the name Sarah Miller.

The elevator opened directly into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling glass showed a skyline I didn't recognize.

"I made it," I whispered.

I dropped my bag and walked straight to the bathroom.

Day one was about the water. I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. The steam filled the room until the mirrors disappeared. I stripped off my clothes, the clothes Tristain had bought me, the clothes that smelled like his house and stepped under the spray.

I stood there for an hour. I watched the water swirl down the drain, and for the first time in eight months, the heavy, metallic fog in my brain started to lift.

The fatigue that had felt like lead in my bones was easing. My mind felt sharp, like a knife being whetted.

"I’m not dying anymore," I said to the tiles. "I’m not dying."

I looked at my reflection in the steamed-up glass. I looked thinner, yes. But my eyes were bright. The yellow tint was fading. I was coming back to life.

Day two was for the wolf. I drove a rental car forty miles out of the city to a private wooded area.

It was thick with pine and damp earth. I walked until I couldn't hear the road, then I stripped.

The shift used to be agonizing. Tristain told me it was because I was a "weak Omega." He said my body couldn't handle the strain.

He lied.

The shift was fast. My bones snapped and reformed with a sound like dry wood breaking.

I hit the ground on four paws, my fur thick and silver-grey in the filtered light. I felt powerful. I felt fast.

I ran. I tore through the undergrowth, my claws digging into the soft soil. I jumped over fallen logs, my muscles rippling with a strength I hadn't felt since I was twenty. I wasn't an Omega dying of cancer. I was a predator.

I reached a clearing and skidded to a stop. I tilted my head back and let out a howl. It wasn't the mournful cry of a mate. It was a roar of pure, unfiltered rage. It echoed through the trees, a warning to anyone listening.

I’m coming back.

Day three was for the business. I sat on the balcony of the penthouse at midnight, a small metal trash can at my feet. I took out the photos of our wedding. I took out the "medical reports" the pack doctor had given me.

I struck a match.

"Goodbye, Lola Herdez," I said as the flames ate the paper.

I picked up the encrypted phone. It rang twice.

"It’s me," I said.

"You’re moving fast," Arthur Milton said. "I’ve already moved the first three offshore accounts. But Tristain is hitting walls. He tried to access the Nightwood Logistics main server this morning. The system locked him out."

"How much longer before he realizes the money is actually leaving the country?"

"He’s already suspicious. He’s filed a missing persons report, but he’s trying to keep it quiet. He doesn't want the board to know his 'dying wife' has vanished with the keys to the kingdom. Keep going, Lola. We need twenty-four more hours to finalize the trust transfers."

"Do it."

I hung up and looked out at the city lights. For five years, I had believed Tristain’s love was my sanctuary. I thought his protection was the only thing keeping me alive. I had been so blind. I had let him tuck me into bed and give me the very poison that was making me sleep.

I felt a surge of heat in my hip. The mark was glowing, a faint silver light under my skin. I wasn't just healing. I was changing into something Tristain couldn't control.

The doorbell rang.

I froze. Nobody knew I was here.

I walked to the door, my hand moving to the heavy lamp on the side table. I looked through the security camera. A delivery man in a green uniform was standing there holding a massive bouquet of black lilies and night-blooming jasmine.

"Delivery for Miss Miller," he said.

I opened the door an inch. "Who sent these?"

"No card, ma'am. Just a delivery instruction."

I took the flowers. They were beautiful, but the scent was overwhelming. It was heavy, sweet, and carried a hint of ozone.

The moment the scent hit my nose, my wolf surged. She didn't growl. She submitted.

My knees went weak. I set the bouquet on the counter.

Inside the center of the flowers, I saw a small, silver device. It looked like a high-end recorder. I touched it, and a light flickered green.

"You can run, but you can’t hide from what you are, Nightwood."

The voice was deep. Williams Schofield. It sounded like he was standing right behind me.

"I’m coming for you," the recording said.