Chapter 4

Three days after discovering the truth, I decided to act like nothing had happened.

In the morning, I had the maid prepare Kieran's favorite breakfast. I knew he'd come today—his father's condition had worsened, and whenever family troubles arose, he always sought refuge in my quarters.

Sure enough, he pushed open the door at dusk.

He looked exhausted, dark shadows beneath his eyes. I walked over and helped him remove his coat, my movements as gentle as they'd been for three years.

He studied me, surprise flickering in his gaze. "You seem..." he paused, "different today."

"Different how?" I asked, voice perfectly calm.

"I don't know," he said. "Just different."

That night, he didn't blindfold me. He simply held me forever, like he was trying to absorb me into his body. I closed my eyes, counting down in his embrace.

"Sage," he suddenly called my name with a tenderness I'd never heard before.

This was the first time he'd called me Sage while fully conscious, instead of closing his eyes and whispering Celeste. My heart skipped, but I crushed that dangerous feeling.

"Hmm?" I looked up at him.

He stared into my eyes, fingers tracing my cheek: "If someday—hypothetically—you wanted to leave here, where would you go?"

Was this a trap? I quickly weighed my options before deciding on partial truth: "Back South, to visit my family's graves."

He stayed silent for a long time, eventually just holding me tighter.

That night he fell asleep beside me. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating his face. I watched him, remembering that signature from the archives.

My hand crept toward the nightstand where his Alpha token lay. He'd arrived in such a rush that his coat had been tossed on a chair, the token falling out. This was my only chance.

My fingers barely touched the token when he suddenly rolled over. I froze, not daring to breathe. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close.

"Stay..." he murmured in his sleep.

I closed my eyes, waiting for his breathing to steady. Then I carefully slipped from his arms, took the token, and hid it in the bag I'd prepared. I'd known the safe's combination for ages—Celeste's birthday. I opened it and took the cash and a silver dagger.

After finishing, I returned to bed and lay beside him. In his sleep, he pulled me close again, and I didn't resist. This is the last time, I told myself. The last time I'll pretend any of this is real.

Two days later, the Northern Alliance held a funeral for Kieran's father. Every wolf in Seattle attended the cemetery, security reduced by half. This was my chance.

I dressed in a maid's uniform, pinned up my hair, and applied scent-masking ointment. My bag contained the token, money, the dagger, and a few changes of clothes. I took one last look at the room—my prison for three years—and walked out without looking back.

The corridor was quiet, only occasional maids hurrying past. I kept my head down, pretending to fetch supplies from storage. The elevator descended to the ground floor, where two guards stood at the entrance.

"Halt," one called out. "Where are you going this late?"

I held up the token, hand steady: "The Alpha sent me to retrieve something."

The guard examined the token, then me. Those seconds felt like eternity. Finally, he nodded: "Make it quick."

I stepped outside, air biting cold against my skin. Taking a deep breath, I hurried toward the parking lot. The car Evander had arranged waited in the corner, keys hidden above the tire.

I drove out of the lot, accelerating toward the Oregon border. In the rearview mirror, Ashford Tower's lights grew smaller until they vanished into the night.

Kieran would discover my absence soon, and the hunt would begin immediately. I needed to cross the border before then.

The border checkpoint's lights appeared ahead. I slowed, took a deep breath, and prepared my story.

A Beta approached and knocked on my window. I rolled it down, and his nose twitched, clearly catching my scent.

"You carry an Alpha's mark," he said, expression turning wary. "You're from the Ashford pack?"

I nodded, keeping my voice steady: "I'm the Alpha's breeding slave. He sent me South on an errand."

It was plausible. Breeding slaves held low status and were often sent on unsavory tasks. The Beta stared at me for several seconds before finally waving me through: "Go ahead. But return within three days."

"Yes, sir."

As the car passed the checkpoint, I finally exhaled. But I knew this was just the beginning. Instead of heading south to Oregon, I turned north toward Tsimshian territory at the Canadian border. Kieran would search the South first, buying me precious time.

By dawn, I stopped at a remote motel. I paid cash and registered under a false name. The room was small and reeked of mildew, but I didn't care. I locked the door and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion finally washing over me.

My phone buzzed in my bag. I pulled it out to find twenty-some missed calls, all from Kieran. Text messages followed, one after another:

Where are you?

Sage, answer the phone.

This isn't funny.

SAGE.

I turned off the phone, disassembled it, removed the SIM card, and flushed it down the toilet.

The next two weeks were hell. I joined a group of ginseng harvesters, all humans who couldn't detect my wolf scent. We trekked through forests, sometimes eating only once a day. My morning sickness worsened, but I couldn't show it.

"Girl, you look terrible," an old harvester said. "Need to rest?"

"No," I shook my head. "I can keep going."

By the third week, we finally reached Tsimshian harbor—a small fishing village reeking of fish. I found a captain willing to take money without asking questions, who agreed to transport me to the Oregon coast.

"Two months at sea," he said. "You sure about this?"

"Positive."

The boat was small and rocked violently. I vomited everything I ate, dry heaving even on an empty stomach. One of the fishermen handed me some green plums.

"Smell these, helps," he said, then asked curiously, "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

I hesitated before nodding.

"Where's the father?"

I stared at the gray sea stretching beyond the window, eventually answering: "Dead to me."

Days on the boat dragged endlessly. I slept most of the time, waking only to vomit. The fishermen were kind, always saving bland food for me. One day, while resting on deck, I overheard them watching the news.

"Look at this—Northern Alliance issued a wanted notice."

My heart stopped.

"Says the Supreme Alpha's mate was kidnapped by Southern insurgents," the fisherman said. "Reward's a million dollars."

I kept my head down, pretending to sleep while my ears strained.

"The woman in the photo's pretty," another fisherman remarked. "And pregnant too, poor thing."

"What's to pity? Being a Supreme Alpha's mate—many would kill for that position."

"Maybe so, but look at the Alpha's face—murderous. Those kidnappers are as good as dead."

I curled up under my blanket, trying to look like just another pregnant she-wolf.

Now my photo was plastered on wanted posters, declaring me the "poor kidnapped Luna."

Two months later, the boat finally docked. Portland's harbor bustled with vendors' calls and seagull cries. My legs wobbled as I stepped onto land.

"Take care, girl," the captain said. "And be careful. You look like someone running from something."

I didn't answer, just turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Portland had changed considerably, though some places remained the same. I found the address Evander had given me—a run-down apartment building. My hand trembled as I knocked.

The door opened, and Tommy, Evander's friend stood there, eyes widening at the sight of me.

"You're insane," he pulled me inside. "Kieran's about to tear through this place."

"I know," I said. "But before he finds me, I need to kill someone."

"Who?"

I met his eyes: "Marcus Vale. The one who signed the execution order."

Tommy stayed silent for a long time before finally sighing: "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I will," I said. "When is Kieran's coronation ceremony in Portland?"

"Christmas Eve."

I touched my now six-month pregnant belly. The pup kicked in response, like it was acknowledging me.

"Christmas Eve," I repeated. "Perfect."