Charis
I lay on my side, with my eyes wide open, the blankets tangled around my legs, until the pack house grew silent.
Every creak of the stairs sent my heart racing, convinced that my father was coming to finish what he'd started. My cheek still throbbed from the slap; my body still had the painful welts that had formed where his belt had struck me.
I could still feel his fingers in my hair, his spit-filled words about duty and obedience clinging to my skin like filth, and I know it won't stop.
Marriage would not be my redemption.
The grandfather clock in the hallway finally chimed midnight. The pack house had finally fallen silent.
Slowly, silently, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to my vanity. The floor was cold beneath my toes, the kind of cold that wakes your bones and reminds you you're alive.
I yanked open the bottom drawer where I had hidden my escape plan weeks ago. The forged admission letter and other forged documents for my new identity were there, just like I left them weeks ago – back when running away was a fantasy, not a necessity.
I hesitated for only a second before shoving them into the duffel bag I had bought from the market the previous afternoon. Working quickly, I retrieved the money I'd been saving – tips from waitressing at the pack's diner, birthday gifts, small amounts skimmed from my allowance that wouldn't be noticed.
It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.
When my bag was packed with essentials, I stood up and turned to the mirror.
The girl who stared back at me looked nothing like the powerful Alpha's daughter everyone expected me to be. My father hated my existence; I should have died instead of his precious son, and he didn't try to hide it.
My hair, long and silver-gold spilled past my shoulders in soft waves. My eyes–my mother's eyes–were tired, hollow and haunted. A bruise – one of the many bruises I have was forming on my cheekbone. My lip was split where I'd bitten it to keep from crying out during my father's punishment.
There was a time I loved my reflection. Now, I hated what it stood for—the daughter of Alpha Greye. The girl promised like a lamb to slaughter.
"Look at what they've done to you," I whispered to my reflection.
I traced the line of my jaw, remembering how my mother used to tell me I had her grandmother's strong features. The Greye women have always been fighters, my grandmother had said.
Fighting meant surviving. And surviving meant leaving.
Without allowing myself to overthink the decision, I reached for the scissors I'd placed on my vanity earlier that evening. I gathered my long, blond hair – the pride of the Greye family women for generations into my fist.
Snip – a thick lock of hair dropped onto the floor.
The first cut was the hardest. After that, locks of silver blond hair fell to the floor like shed feathers.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
I didn't stop until the hair barely reached my chin. The choppy ends made me look younger, rougher, but less like Charis Greye, prized daughter and the Future Luna Queen, and more like someone who could disappear into a crowd.
Satisfied with my hair, I stripped off my nightgown and pulled on the boy's clothes I'd bought at the flea market two towns over. Baggy jeans, a worn t-shirt, a flannel overshirt and a cap to tuck any remaining strands of hair under.
Lastly, I wrapped my chest with bandages, wincing at the pressure against the fresh welts from the belt.
When I looked in the mirror again, Eamon Riggs stared back at me. The transformation wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.
A distant horn blared through the night, startling me from my examination.
"The night train," I gasped. It was early.
Fifteen minutes, I had fifteen minutes to reach the station – fifteen minutes to escape before my chance was gone.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I eased my bedroom window open. The trellis outside my window – once used for midnight escapades with my former mate – would now be my escape route.
I climbed out slowly.
The night air whipped against my newly exposed neck. The moon hung low and full in the sky – a hunter's moon. Fitting for my escape.
I hit the ground with a soft thud, and I froze, listening for any sign that I'd been discovered. The pack house remained dark and silent.
Keeping to the shadows, I skirted the edge of the pack house, avoiding the night patrols. I knew their routes by heart now; I'd been studying them for weeks.
I kept walking until I reached the woods at the edge of the pack house, and then I broke into a run.
The station was still a mile away, and time was against me.
Branches scraped my skin. Thorns tugged at my pants. But I kept running.
Downhill, through the orchard, over the small brook, past the danger sign to warn against rogues.
My lungs burned, my muscles were screaming in protest, but fear drove me. Better this pain than the life awaiting me as Darian's Luna.
A while later, the lights of the train station came into view just as I heard the whistle blow again.
Faster.
I couldn't run in my wolf form; it would be easier to track me.
I pushed myself harder, my feet pounding against the dirt road leading to the platform. The train was already slowing to a stop as I reached the edge of the platform.
"All aboard for Ravenspire City!" A conductor called out.
I fumbled with the money in my pocket, purchasing a one-way ticket with trembling hands. By the time I turned back to the platform, the train had begun to move again, picking up speed.
"No! Wait!" I cried out, breaking into a sprint alongside the accelerating train. "Wait!"
The last car was pulling away from the platform.
" No-no-please!"
I ran along the platform, my bag banging against my hip. The cars blurred past me – one, two, three – then someone appeared at a door.
"Hey, boy! Give me your hand!"
A boy. Maybe a few years older. Tall, with dark hair curling around his ears, leaned out from the doorway of the last car, extending his arms toward me. I pushed myself to my limits, stretching my arm as far as it would reach. Our fingers brushed once, twice…
On the third attempt, his hand closed firmly around my wrist. With one powerful yank, he pulled me from the platform and onto the train, and together we tumbled onto the floor of the carriage.
I gasped, with my chest still heaving and turned to him breathlessly.
"Thank you," I panted, deliberately lowering my voice to match my appearance and still glad he recognised I was a boy at first glance.
The boy grinned, stood and offered me a hand up.
I took it with my legs still slightly shaking.
"No worry, man. Can't leave anyone behind. Where are you headed?"
"Ravenshore," I replied, still trying to catch my breath.
"Academy bound?" he asked, eyeing my backpack.
I nodded, not wanting to elaborate.
"Same here," he said, extending his hand again. "My name is Peter. Third year."
"Eamon," I replied, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake the way I'd seen the pack boys do. "Eamon Riggs."
"Well, Eamon Riggs," Peter said, gesturing to the empty seats in the carriage, "looks like you're starting your Academy journey with an adventure."
I nodded wordlessly and moved to the window, watching as the train rounded a bend in the tracks. In the distance, the lighthouse that marked the edge of Crestborne Pack Territory flickered until it became a tiny dot before disappearing from view.
Gone.
Everything I'd ever known – my home, my family, my identity – vanished into the darkness behind me. The life of Charis Greye, daughter of Alpha Silas, was over.
Everything left behind on the tracks
I pressed my palm against the cool glass, drawing a shaky breath as a small smile tugged at my lips despite my exhaustion.
I would finally be free.