Chapter 05

Madeleine’s POV

“No.” My voice came out cracked, barely louder than the wind moving through the trees. I tried to pull away from the man supporting me, but my legs buckled beneath me before I could take a single step. Pain tore through my side, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“I want to leave.”

The words sounded pitiful even to my own ears.

The man didn’t tighten his grip. He didn’t force me forward either. He simply steadied me until I found my balance again.

“You need a healer,” he said quietly.

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I’ll manage.”

He looked down at the blood soaking through the cloth pressed against my side before meeting my eyes again.

“No,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You won’t.”

My chest tightened.

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“You don’t have to.”

I stared at him. For a moment, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly.

“What?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

His expression never changed.

“If you still want to leave after your wounds are treated, no one will stop you.”

I searched his face for mockery. There was none. No cruel smile. No amusement. No hidden threat. Just quiet certainty.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

His answer only confused me more.

“I’ve never met a rogue who begged someone to stay.”

“I never said I was begging.”

Before I could reply, the woman with the scar stepped closer.

“She’s losing more blood.”

The man gave a short nod before looking back at me.

“Can you stand long enough to walk?”

I tried. The moment I shifted my weight, the world tilted violently beneath me. My knees gave out. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. A frustrated sound escaped my throat.

“I said I wanted to leave.”

“And you will.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost irritated me.

“But not like this.”

Without waiting for another argument, he lifted me as though I weighed nothing and carried me back toward the motorcycle.

“I can walk.”

“No.”

“I don’t need—”

“You can’t even stand.”

I hated that he was right. He settled me onto the motorcycle once more before climbing on in front of me. For a second, I considered sliding off the other side. My body refused to cooperate. He glanced over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to hold on.”

“I’d rather not.”

“If you fall off, you’ll reopen the wound.”

Reluctantly, I wrapped my arms around his waist. The engine rumbled beneath us before the motorcycle rolled forward again. Nobody spoke. The silence stretched between us as we followed the winding road deeper into the forest. I kept watching the trees, memorizing every turn. If I got the chance, I would run. I didn’t know where. Anywhere but here.

The motorcycle began to slow. Ahead of us stood tall iron gates built into thick stone walls. Several wolves stood nearby, dressed in leather instead of pack uniforms. As the motorcycle rolled closer, an idea slipped into my mind. It wasn’t a good one. But it was my only one. We weren’t moving very fast anymore. If I jumped now…

The ground would hurt. The wound would probably tear open. But I could still run. I slowly loosened one hand from around his waist. Just a little. Another inch. Before I could move any further, his voice broke the silence.

“If you’re thinking about jumping,” he said calmly, “don’t.”

My hand froze.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Heat crept into my face.

“I have to leave.”

“You can.”

I blinked. “…What?”

“You can leave.”

His tone remained as steady as before.

“After your wounds heal.”

I frowned. “You’d let me?”

“If that’s what you choose.”

The answer made no sense. No Alpha would allow someone to walk away. No rogue should either.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, the heavy gates slowly began to open. The motorcycle rolled through. The first thing I noticed was how many people were inside. Motorcycles were parked in neat rows outside old stone buildings. Some wolves were repairing engines. Others carried crates between warehouses. Several were sparring in an open yard. It didn’t look anything like the stories I’d been told about rogue camps.

Then someone looked up. Another followed. Within seconds, every conversation stopped. Tools were lowered. People turned. Eyes followed us from every direction. My heartbeat quickened. I lowered my head instinctively. I knew this feeling. I knew what always came next. Someone would laugh. Someone would call me worthless. Someone would ask why a pathetic Omega had been brought here.

I braced myself. Nothing happened. The silence stretched across the compound. No one laughed. No one sneered. No one whispered loud enough for me to hear. They simply stared. Not with disgust. Not with hatred. Almost… Almost like they had been waiting for me.

A shiver ran down my spine. Without realizing it, I tightened my grip around the man’s leather jacket. I had no idea why every single pair of eyes in the compound was fixed on me. And somehow… That frightened me far more than if they had laughed.