Chapter 9: Run, Little Tyrant

The first sign that something was wrong with my escape was the unlocked door. I stood in front of it before dawn, one hand resting on the latch.

The healer had examined me the previous evening and declared the wolfsbane nearly gone from my body. My fever had not returned, my wounds were closing, and my wolf was strong enough to shift again.

She advised me to wait another day before attempting anything strenuous.

I had never been talented at following advice.

For two days, I had eaten everything Asterion and Faolan placed in front of me. I had slept whenever they ordered me to rest and swallowed every bitter medicine without complaint. While they mistook obedience for recovery, I counted footsteps beyond the door, studied the guards' routines, and memorized the northern route.

Everything was ready. So why was the door unlocked? I eased it open.

The corridor was empty. No Crescent Ice guards stood at either staircase. No voices drifted from the lower floor. Even the lanterns had been dimmed, leaving a clear path toward the sitting room and the stairs beyond it.

I returned to the bedroom. The curtains stirred around the open window. It had been locked every night until now.

I approached the chair where my robe had been folded and found a complete set of black traveling clothes waiting beneath it. The trousers and shirt fit me perfectly. A dark coat hung from the bedpost, warm enough for the northern forest.

New boots waited beside the door.

My exact size.

I dressed slowly, suspicion tightening with every button. A narrow leather satchel rested beneath the coat. Inside were my arena mask, the fifty gold crowns I had fought to earn, three smaller knives, food, water, clean clothing, and my remaining medicines. The straps had been designed to fasten around a shifted wolf's body.

They had not merely discovered my escape.

They had packed for it.

I secured my dagger against my thigh and entered the corridor. I should have turned around. Every open door felt like the exposed teeth of a trap.

Instead, irritation pushed me forward.

Asterion and Faolan wanted me to see how thoroughly they had anticipated me. They could have locked the windows, doubled the guards, or chained me to the bed. Those methods would have been familiar. I knew how to break locks and throats.

Their confidence was harder to fight.

It suggested they no longer needed barriers to keep me.

The boys I once commanded would have waited outside my door all night, terrified that a single mistake might earn my displeasure. They would never have dared test me like this.

Those boys no longer existed.

In their place stood two Alphas who had spent five years learning how I thought. They had become far more dangerous than the weapons I trained them to use, and now they were forcing me to recognize it.

They were testing me.

Worse, some part of them seemed certain I would fail.

The realization scraped against my pride. In the past, I had tested them whenever boredom demanded entertainment. I ordered Asterion to hold impossible positions during training and waited to see when his body would betray him. I provoked Faolan until his temper broke, then punished him for forgetting his place.

They had learned to survive every game I invented.

Now, the game belonged to them.

Returning my dagger, leaving the maps open, removing the guards—none of it had been carelessness. They wanted to see whether I would retreat once I understood they were waiting. Perhaps they wanted proof that five years of hiding had made me cautious. Perhaps they simply wanted to watch their former mistress walk willingly into a hunt designed by her slaves.

I almost turned back to deny them the satisfaction. Almost. But retreat would mean admitting their confidence frightened me.

I would rather run directly into their trap than allow either man to believe I was afraid of him.

Anger carried me into the sitting room. Asterion sat in an armchair beside the fire, calmly reading a book. He wore dark traveling clothes and boots, though his coat remained folded beside him. On the other hand, Faolan occupied the breakfast table. A plate of bread, eggs, and sliced meat sat before him. Two additional places had already been prepared.

Neither man looked surprised to see me dressed for the road.

Faolan took another bite of bread. "Your boots were by the door."

I stopped. "You know."

Asterion turned another page. "We have known since yesterday."

"Then, why haven't you stopped me?"

Faolan smiled. "Because watching you pretend to be secretive has been entertaining."

My grip tightened around the satchel. "How?"

"You memorized the northern patrol routes instead of reading the trade reports," Asterion said. "You tested the window latch four times. You watched every guard who entered the corridor and counted how long they remained away from their stations." He turned another page. "You also began favoring your right leg yesterday, which meant you had already secured the dagger against your left thigh."

I resisted the urge to check it.

Faolan poured tea into the third cup. "And you become extremely pleased with yourself whenever you think you've deceived us."

"The bond betrayed me."

"Your face betrayed you," he corrected. "The bond merely confirmed it."

My irritation sharpened into something less comfortable. "You think you know me that well?"

"We know when you lie," Faolan said.

"You knew the spoiled girl your master gave two slaves to entertain her."

Asterion finally raised his eyes from the book. "We knew the commander who refused to leave wounded soldiers behind. We knew the woman who carried medicine to villages Raiden ordered her to burn. We knew the tyrant and every person she pretended not to be."

My throat tightened. "You knew only what I allowed you to see."

"Then, you allowed us to see more than anyone else," Faolan replied.

They had always watched me.

As slaves, watching had kept them alive. They learned the smallest changes in my voice, the angle of my shoulders, and the moods hidden beneath every command. I had mistaken their silence for ignorance and their obedience for weakness.

Now, Asterion could dismantle my strategy before I acted. Faolan could recognize the intention I had not spoken.

They read me because I had trained them to.

I had placed the weapons in their hands and spent years teaching them exactly where to strike.

"Eat before you leave," Faolan said.

"You are not in a position to order me."

"You are about to run through a frozen forest after surviving wolfsbane poisoning. I am in an excellent position to order breakfast."

"I would rather starve."

"You already tried that in the arena. It was unimpressive."

Asterion finally closed his book. Something folded between the pages caught my attention. He removed a bloodstained parchment.

My arena contract.

"Is that another reminder that you purchased me?"

Asterion rose and crossed to the fireplace. He dropped the contract into the flames.

Fire consumed the arena master's seal first. The written price curled into ash, followed by the signatures declaring my body the buyer's property.

"We purchased the contract so no one else could," Asterion said. "We never intended to keep it."

I watched the final corner blacken. "Then, I am free to leave."

"Legally," Faolan said. I narrowed my eyes. His smile returned. "Unfortunately, the law has very little influence over two possessive Alphas."

"You cannot stop me without chains."

"We don't need them," Asterion replied.

There it was again.

That unbearable certainty.

They were not pretending to underestimate me. They knew what I was capable of and remained convinced they would catch me anyway.

Fear slid beneath my anger. Not fear that they would hurt me. Fear that I no longer knew the limits of the men I had left behind. They knew mine. That imbalance was intolerable.

Perhaps that was the true purpose of the open doors. They wanted me outside the room, away from fever and bandages, where they could show me exactly what five years had made of them.

Very well.

If my puppies wanted to display their teeth, I would remind them who had taught them to bite.

I set the satchel on the table. "Then, let us settle this."

Faolan's expression brightened. "That sounds promising."

"If I reach the northern boundary before you catch me, both of you will leave me alone."

"For thirty days," Asterion answered.

"Forever."

"No."

"Afraid I'll win?"

Asterion closed the distance between us and placed his book on the table. "No, my moon. I am afraid you continue mistaking our patience for surrender."

My wolf rose at the challenge in his voice. "One hour," I said. "You remain inside this inn and ignore the directional pull of the bonds. No guards. No pack wolves."

"Only us," Faolan agreed.

"If I cross the northern boundary first, you will not follow, contact, or summon me for thirty days."

"Agreed," Asterion said.

"And when we catch you," Faolan added, "you return willingly to Crescent Ice and remain for one complete lunar cycle. No escape attempts."

"If you catch me."

"When."

I looked at Asterion. "Why only thirty days?"

His cold expression did not change, but possessiveness tightened the bond around my ribs.

"Because thirty days is already longer than we are willing to lose you again."

The words should have warned me away from the wager. Instead, I offered him my hand. "Agreed."

Asterion clasped it.

Faolan placed his hand over ours. "You wanted us to hunt you, little tyrant. This is your opportunity to discover how good we have become."

"You are both too confident."

"And you're delaying breakfast."

I ate because running hungry would have been foolish, not because Faolan told me to. Neither man commented when I added two pieces of bread to my satchel. Their silence made me want to throw them back.

The eastern sky had begun turning gray when we walked outside. Frost covered the inn's courtyard. Beyond the stone wall, the forest stretched north beneath a fading veil of mist.

I removed the satchel and handed it to Faolan before stepping behind the stable wall. The first shift after wolfsbane hurt more than I expected. Bones lengthened, skin tightened, and darkness flashed behind my eyes.

I refused to make a sound.

When I emerged, four paws met the frozen ground. My wolf was larger than an ordinary female, her fur midnight-black except for the silver running from her forehead along her spine. Moonlight remained trapped inside her eyes even beneath the approaching dawn.

Faolan fastened the satchel around my body. His hands lingered against my fur. "Still magnificent," he murmured.

I snapped my teeth close to his fingers.

He laughed and stepped back.

Asterion stood inside the inn's doorway, one hand resting against the frame. He made no attempt to approach me. "Your hour begins when you cross the courtyard gate," he said.

I faced the forest.

Faolan's voice followed me. "One hour, little tyrant. Run far enough to make this interesting."

I passed through the gate and launched myself into the trees. The cold air burned cleanly inside my lungs. My paws tore through frost and dead leaves as the inn disappeared behind me.

Neither man followed.

That should have comforted me. Instead, their calm confidence traveled through our bonds.

My puppies weren't worried that I would escape. They were giving their prey a head start.