Chapter 8 - Caught

Aiden’s words don’t leave me.

They cling.

When this goes wrong… it always does.

I’ve heard versions of that sentence my whole life. Different faces. Different places. Same ending. Trouble follows me, people get hurt, people die. I didn’t wait to see if he’s right again.

I don’t run immediately. That would be stupid. Instead, I watch.

I stay quiet. Keep my head down. Move when they expect me to move, stand where they expect me to stand. Tyson gets pulled into something, orders, strategy, low voices with his people and for the first time since I got here… His attention isn’t fully on me.

That’s my window. I slip away slowly at first, like I’m just another body moving through the house. No sudden movements. No panic. Just careful, measured steps. My heart starts to pick up, but I force myself to stay calm. Panicking is how you get caught. I’ve done this before.

Too many times.

I find a back exit half open, probably from the earlier rush and slide through it without hesitation. The moment I step outside, the air hits different.

Cool, sharp and free.

I don’t stop walking, then I walk faster, then I run. The trees swallow me quickly. Branches scrape against my arms, the ground uneven beneath my boots, but I refuse to slow down. I know better than to look back. Just keep moving.

Get distance.

Disappear.

That’s how I’ve survived this long.

My lungs burn after a few minutes, but I push through it. I’ve run longer. Harder. This is nothing.

You can do this. You have to.

But then something feels… off. I slow slightly, my instincts prickling. Too quiet, no movement. And then I see it.

A line.

Not visible, not really, but I feel it, like the air itself changes. My stomach drops.

Boundary.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. I glance around quickly, looking for a weak point, a gap, something, that’s when I hear it.

A footstep behind me. I spin, too slow.

A hand grabs my arm, yanking me back hard enough to throw me off balance.

“Going somewhere?”

I struggle instantly, twisting, trying to break free, my other hand reaching for my knife.

“Don’t,” the voice warns, sharp and unimpressed.

A man. One of Tyson’s guards. Big. Solid. Annoyingly calm.

I grit my teeth, still fighting. “Let go of me!”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He tightens his grip just enough to remind me I’m not getting out of this by force.

I twist again anyway. Stupid. Pointless. But I’ve never been good at giving up quietly.

“Let go of me!” I snap, trying to jerk my arm free.

“Relax,” he says dryly. “You’re not fast enough to outrun this place.”

“I wasn’t trying to outrun the place,” I shoot back. “Just you.”

That earns me a short, humorless chuckle. “Sure.”

I go for my knife anyway.

Bad move.

His hand shifts, faster than I expect and suddenly my wrist is pinned, my arm twisted just enough to make me hiss.

“Don’t make this harder,” he mutters. “I really don’t have the patience today.”

“Funny,” I grit out. “I don’t have the patience to be kidnapped either.”

He sighs like I’m the inconvenience here.

“Look,” he says, tone flattening, “you crossed the boundary. That alone is enough reason to drag you back. Don’t add ‘attacked a guard’ to your list.”

I freeze, not because I’m scared of him. But because I know he’s right. This isn’t a fight I win.

Not here, not like this.

I exhale sharply, my body going still, not relaxed, just… done struggling for now.

“Good choice,” he says.

I glare at the back of his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

He doesn’t respond. Just starts walking.

And I don’t have a choice but to follow.

The walk back feels longer.

He doesn’t drag me, but his grip never loosens, like he’s fully expecting me to try something again. And he’s not wrong. I’m just waiting for a better opportunity, he better watch out. But as we get closer to the house, that feeling creeps back in.

That pull. Low. Persistent. Sweet and annoying. My chest tightens slightly.

Damn him.

Even from a distance, I can feel him. The moment we step inside, it gets worse, stronger. Like something inside me just… locks onto him. Like something inside me is happy to be closer to him.

I hate it.

My body humming as if it’s already tune to him. My heart skip, already yearning for his presence. Is this the magic they were talking about? Because this can’t be natural. It’s not love at first sight, but more, like my body and soul recognizes him in a level my brain can’t fully comprehend.

I hate that my body reacts before my brain can catch up. The guard doesn’t slow down. He just pushes the door open and pulls me in with him.

“I found her at the eastern boundary,” he says.

He lets go.

Just like that.

I don’t stumble, but it’s close. I straighten immediately, brushing off my arm like his touch left something behind.

I know the moment I step back into the house that I have made a mistake. Not because I get caught. I’ve been caught before. That’s part of running. You win some, you lose some.

No. This feels… different.

The air inside the house is heavier. Charged. Like walking into the middle of a storm that hasn’t decided whether to break or not.

And at the center of it, him.

Tyson.

I don’t need to see him to know he is there. My body reacts before my eyes can confirm it, my pulse quickening, my chest tightening, that strange pull wrapping around me like an invisible thread being yanked too tight.

God, I hate that feeling. But I myself am curious to see how Tyson will react. He should be happy that I want to leave, that way I won’t bring anymore strange men to his borders. He probably gonna tell the guard that he should have let me go.

“Alpha, l found her at the eastern boundary.” He said it like he expected to be applauded for bring me back.

The guard’s voice breaks through the silence as he shoves me forward. I catch myself before I stumble, straightening instantly, refusing to look weak.

Tyson moves so fast I don’t even see it. One second he’s behind his desk. The next, he has the guard by the throat.

“You rough handle her one more time and that will be your last. Do you understand?” Tyson’s intense eyes are on the guard who quickly lower his eyes to the ground.