"We are going to figure this out. Don't you worry. We are going to figure this out. Do you hear me?" Cameran's voice cracks with fury and fear, words tumbling over each other. "That fucking Cruella bitch is not going to get away with this. She can't just fucking take you with her and keep you as a slave because she wants to? That's inhumane! Sam, baby girl, we got this! If I have to gut her, I will."
She paces the room like a caged animal, boots scuffing against the floor, hands fisting and unfisting at her sides. Her eyes are blazing, green and wild, bright with the kind of rage that comes from loving someone too fiercely to lose them.
I don't move.
I don't blink.
I just stare at the wall across from me, at the tiny crack running through the plaster near the corner of the ceiling. I've stared at it a thousand times before, but tonight it feels different—like an anchor holding me in place while everything else slips away.
I feel… nothing.
Numb.
Hollow.
Like someone reached inside my chest and scooped everything out, leaving only a dull ache where hope used to live.
It's over.
Everything I worked for. My degrees. The money I scraped together shift by shift, double shifts, skipped meals. The future I planned in quiet moments when I let myself believe I could leave this place. A better life. Freedom.
Gone.
All of it, ripped away because Seraphina decided I was something she wanted to own.
To break.
To prove… something.
Goddess help me, I don't even know what she's trying to prove. Why is she so angry? Why does she hate me this much? What did I ever do to deserve this?
"No," I whisper.
The word barely exists outside my chest, but shifters don't need volume to hear. Our ears catch the things people try to hide.
Cameran freezes.
"What?" she demands, spinning toward me. "No—don't you dare give up on me now. Don't you fucking dare." Her voice trembles. "You can't give up on me, Sam. You can't. After everything we've been through. You can't leave me too, okay?"
Too.
The word hits harder than anything else she's said.
She's crying now. Real tears. Not angry ones. The kind that comes from somewhere deep and broken.
Too?
Who left her?
Aunt Ginny?
Her mom didn't leave—she died. She saved us.
"Cam…" I reach for her hand, my fingers brushing hers.
She jerks back, shaking her head violently. "No. She left. She could have walked out with us, but she stayed to hold the door open." Her voice fractures. "I know it's selfish of me to think that, because she helped get us out—along with your parents—but… but she could have chosen me!"
Her sobs tear free now, loud and unrestrained.
"She could have chosen to leave with me," she cries. "And now you have to choose too. Because dammit, you can't leave me here alone with my dad. He's great and all, but he's always sad, and I can't deal with that mopey shit all day."
She scrubs at her face, trying to wipe the tears away, but they keep coming.
I don't know what to say.
Because I understand her pain.
My parents died too that night. They chose us. And knowing that doesn't make the loss easier—it makes it heavier.
So I do the only thing I can.
I pull her into my arms.
She collapses against me, shaking, and I hold her like she's the one falling apart instead of me.
"Okay," I whisper, my voice barely holding together. "We'll figure something out."
I don't know how.
I don't know what that looks like.
Goddess, what a mess.
Why is this my life?
"I have money saved up," Cam blurts suddenly. "We can run away. Together."
"No." The word comes out fast. Too fast.
I pull back just enough to look at her. "I'm not implicating you too. If I get caught, we'll both be whipped."
Her mouth opens to argue, but I keep going, the plan spilling out like it's been waiting for permission.
"I have money too. I'll go. Tomorrow. During the ball. Everyone will be distracted—no one will notice." I swallow. "I'll stay near the human city. I've been reading one of the old medical tomes from the archives. No one's touched it in centuries. It talks about herbs that can conceal scent. Even from shifters."
Her eyes widen.
"Maybe I can make it work," I continue, clinging to the idea like a lifeline. "Hide in plain sight. We'll stay in touch. I won't disappear on you. You're my sister, Cam. I love you."
I pull her back into me, holding her tighter this time, like I'm memorizing the feel of her.
She laughs wetly. "Shit. You got me all crying here."
I laugh too, the sound fragile but real.
That night, we skip dinner. Neither of us can stomach it. We eat snacks I already had tucked away and watch trashy TV, laughing too loud at stupid jokes like we're trying to outrun the truth.
When midnight comes and the pack gathers for the run, I stay behind as usual.
Cameran takes the bag I packed—clothes, cash, the old medical tome—and hides it in the woods behind the great garden, near the back lawn that faces the dining hall.
That's my way out.
If everything goes right, I'll be in the human city by that morning.
Starting over.
Emma whimpers inside me, low and mournful. She knows this is for the best, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Wolves are social creatures, we need constant touch and to be with pack members.
A wolf without a pack is a rogue.
Let them call me a rogue.
Let them whisper my name like a warning.
I won't beg for mercy from people who never offered me kindness.
If this pack thinks it can own me, break me, pass me around like property, they're wrong.
I survived the fire.
I survived them.
I'll survive what comes next—even if I have to do it alone.
The thought settles heavy in my chest, cold and crushing.
Leaving means no protection. No safety net. No mindlink humming quietly in the back of my head, reminding me I belong somewhere.
It means silence where a pack should be.
Hunger without help.
Fear without backup.
It means surviving on instinct alone and pretending I don't flinch every time someone looks at me too long.
I'm choosing uncertainty over chains.
Danger over humiliation.
I don't know if that makes me brave or desperate.
But staying would break me.
And I'd rather be broken on my feet than whole on my knees.