Free from the shackles?

ALINA

I dialled my mother's number, knowing she'd hiss at me when she finally answered. I wasn't disappointed.

“What do you want, Alina?!” she snapped when she took the call after the third ring.

Gulping, I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck. If I weren't fucking desperate, I wouldn't have even bothered to call her. “I need your help,” I whispered. “I need two hundred bucks, so the total amount I would be owing you would be four hundred.”

She snorted. “And who told you I would lend you more money when you haven't even paid back the one you took? It hasn't even been up to 24 hours since you asked for that one.”

I closed my eyes. “Please. I'm desperate.”

“Desperate?” she spat. “Has there been a fucking time when you weren't desperate and disappointing? Fine. I'll send it. But you'll sign a promissory note. I want it in writing. Not just that, but this money will come with an interest of ten per cent.”

My stomach twisted. “Okay. I'll sign whatever you want.”

“Good. The money will be in your account within the hour. Don't make me regret this more than I already do.”

The line went dead.

Biting my lower lip, I stared at the phone. So much for having a fucking mother. I wouldn't even say the only good thing she did was bringing me into this world. If I had the choice, I wouldn't have been born...

I didn't get out of bed until my phone dinged with a notification. With the money secured, I grabbed my coat and slipped out of the house. I didn't even bother to bathe. That could wait until I got back.

I walked to the lawyer's office because I didn't have money for a cab. My wounds made it difficult for me to walk at a faster pace, and by the time I reached her office, I was panting like one who ran a freaking marathon.

A journey that would have taken just 30 minutes by cab took me over 2 hours, as I had to stop occasionally because my muscles were protesting.

Mrs Schmidt looked surprised to see me when I stepped into her office. Her eyes softened into concern. “Oh, dear.” She got up from her chair. “What happened to you?”

“I—”

I wanted to say I fell, but that would look suspicious. You don't get a burn mark on your face from a fall.

“I mistakenly poured a pot of soup on the floor and got splashed.” I forced a smile. “I'm good, though. I had it treated.”

Her frown deepened. “Are you—”

“Actually, I'm here to get another divorce paper,” I said, interrupting her before she could continue the uncomfortable interrogation.

Her brows shot up. “Why? You only got one yesterday. You—”

“He tore it.” I stepped away from her and walked over to the chair opposite her desk. I really needed to rest my aching limbs. “I'm here to get another one.”

Her frown deepened. “Another one? What if he doesn't also sign this one?”

“He will.” I sat down. “Please.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue, but whatever she saw on my face made her reconsider. She drew in a breath and nodded. “Okay.”

She walked back to her chair to do as I asked. She worked in silence, printing, stamping and notarising. When she handed me the manila envelope, she smiled sadly. “There's an omega shelter down the street. If you need—”

“I know what I need.” I took the envelope and scanned to pay before I left.

I really wasn't in the mood to listen to any emotional talk.

…

After another excruciating two-hour walk back to the house, my bones felt like jelly. I had a warm bath before I got dressed. I made a light brunch, ate and spent the rest of the day thinking of what to do with my life when I leave James.

How would life be with Raphael? Would it be the same as living with James? Better or worse?

By the time he returned at a few minutes past midnight, I wasn't even half done with my worries for the future.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked towards the front door with the papers and a pen.

He staggered into the house and locked the door.

I scrunched my nose at the strong smell of alcohol wafting from his body. "Welcome back." I forced a smile.

He squinted at me, swaying. “The hell are you still doing up?”

“I need you to sign something,” I whispered, afraid of infuriating him. “It's important.”

He snatched the papers from my hand and squinted at them in the dim hallway light. “What is this?”

I had rehearsed this lie a thousand times in my head. “I'm pregnant.”

His face contorted in disgust at my words. He didn't want a child with me. He'd said it a hundred times. A pup with a wolfless omega wasn't something a proud alpha like him wanted.

“And?” he slurred.

“I want an abortion.” I gulped. I'd thought I would have to fake my tears, but they came freely. “I know you don't want it. I know I'm worthless; you don't have to tell me that again. So please, sign the consent forms so I can get rid of it. Please, James. I don't want to burden you.”

He stared at the papers as he flipped through them. My heart hammered loudly in my chest. Please, goddess, let him not see anything. I was actually banking on him being too drunk to read the words. It would be a damned fucking failure if he did.

My palms got sweaty the more he read, and my breathing became hard.

Please, goddess. Please.

The goddess likely heard my prayers because instead of finding out the truth, he muttered under his breath, “Give me the pen.” I gave him one while biting back a smile.

He signed his name on the first. I had to look to make sure it was legible. Wouldn't put it past him to scribble unintelligibly.

Then he flipped to the next page and signed again—three times, just like the divorce required.

“There.” He shoved the papers at my chest. “Happy now, you stupid bitch? Get rid of it. Get rid of everything.”

I clutched the papers to my heart and let out a deep breath. Finally, I was fucking free of this man. Even though it would take a month to finish everything, I was fucking happy I finally got his signature.

James grabbed my arm. “But before you kill my mistake, you're gonna do your wifely duty one last time.”

I didn't fight him. You could say this was my farewell gift to him. With the divorce papers held securely in my arm, I went with him to my room. I placed the papers carefully on the bedside table before I got naked and lay on the bed.

Just like always, he was fucking rough with me. I didn't mind this time. I just stared at the ceiling and counted the numbers until he was done.

He passed out within minutes, snoring loudly with one arm draped across my waist. And this was the fucking first time he'd slept in my bed after sex.

I waited until I was certain he was deep in slumber before I slipped out of his hold. I had a quick bath to wash off his scent before I got dressed.

I got dressed in the clothes I wore when I got married to him—a blue faded jean and a shirt that had seen better days. I also wore the only sneakers I had.

I didn't pack a bag even though Raphael had asked me to pack light because I wanted nothing from this house, anyway. I put the signed papers in my back pocket and left his file behind.

I walked out and didn't look back.

I took a short walk to the shopping mall where I told Raphael I would be waiting. A black limousine was waiting at the corner with its engine purring and the headlights off. Without being told, I knew Raphael sent it. That man must be freaking wealthy.

The driver didn't speak as I slid into the back seat. I pulled out my phone and texted Raphael.

ALINA: You can send the money now.

I smiled in the darkness as the car pulled away from the curb, imagining what James would do when he woke up tomorrow to find his wife gone and thirty million Euros in his bank account. Would he be confused, suspicious, or furious?

My phone buzzed.

RAPHAEL: Transfer complete. The car will bring you to me, Alina.

I leaned my head against the cool window and watched the city blur past. For the first time in three years, I felt like I could breathe.