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"I think this was all part of their plan, Logan. How else would the Rogues know where to find them. Obviously it was Saffron."
"She wouldn't do that," Logan immediately defends me. There isn't a sliver of doubt in his voice when he says, "Whatever is going on, she's not in on it. I know she's not."
"Saffron's not the innocent girl you think she is, Logan," POW laces his tone with false regret as he tries to turn Logan against me. "She's been lying to you this whole time, and I'm going to prove it."
"She wouldn't!" Logan cries and I want to throw my arms around him and never let go.
"Like she wouldn't lie about being an Omega?" POW asks. "You said so yourself, Logan. It was all an act... and if she can act that well, who knows what else she's lying about?"
As the words leave POW's lips, I'm hit with a wave of betrayal. I should never have told Logan about the Omega act. I thought I was safe here. I thought I could trust this Logan and POW and this pack. Now my best weapon—my surefire way of dealing with the Pissed Off Wolf—is gone. My vision blurs and the ringing in my ears almost makes me miss POW's next words.
"Saffron's here for a reason, and I'm going to figure out what that reason is... If the Rogues in the dungeon won't talk, Saffron will."
Rogues? Dungeon? I suddenly feel like I'm going to be sick. I've been through this enough times with Dad to know how things will play out. There are ways to make Wolves talk, painful, terrifying ways to make them confess to just about anything to make it stop. Except that when the interrogation's over, the real torture begins. I know from experience that confessing will only make things worse. Innocent or guilty doesn't matter. The only thing that does is keeping silent and surviving to see another day.
Images of POW interrogating me—strapping me to a chair, drawing a knife, and shouting at me to confess—flash before my eyes. I break into a cold sweat, and the only thing that keeps me from crying out are thoughts of Logan. He'd never let that happen to me, I'm sure of it.
I can hear Logan defending me to his Father—insisting that I'm innocent—but his words blur as my thoughts race. I feel like such an idiot for believing that POW was a good guy. For thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was all bark and no bite. Was it because he's married to Luna, who reminds me of my mother? Would she protect me? Or did POW already convince her I'm guilty, like he's trying to convince Logan?
From behind the door, I hear a chair scrape against the floor. My heart practically leaps out of my chest and I do the one thing I should have done already. I run.
I take off down the down the hall, staying on my tiptoes to mask the sound of my sneakered feet hitting the carpeted floor. Each step is audible, but with the office door still closed, I'm pretty sure POW and Logan don't hear me.
I race past my room, glance inside to make sure no one is inside, and see a flash of purple. Mom's painting! I don't have time to grab it! Tears spring to my eyes. Maybe someday, somehow, I can figure out a way to get it back, but I'll never forget it.
The tears start to cloud my vision and fear squeezes itself tightly around my heart. I have to force myself to keep going, down a hall that suddenly feels ten times longer than before. When I finally pass Jasper and Zara, music and explosions sound from inside the room. Jaspers eyes are glued to his phone, and the movie drowns out my steps as I pass by. Zara's still and unconscious next to him, and I send a silent prayer up to the Moon Goddess. Please let Zara be okay. Please, save her.
I get to the stairs and run down as fast as my sneakered feet will take me. I keep expecting someone from one of the floors to stop me, or shout for me to slow down, alerting POW, but there doesn't seem to be anyone around. When I reach the last few steps, I think I'm home free, which is when I hear it. Someone walking up the front drive, the gravel crunching under their feet with each step.
I look around wildly for a place to hide and settle on the hallway leading to the back of the house. If I'm lucky, it'll lead to a back door and set me free. There's no way to be sure, but I have to take the risk. If I try to make it to the kitchen, I'll be trapped. I could try a living room window, but if I have to break it to get out it'll alert everyone in the house. I could try going back upstairs, too, but heading toward POW is definitely out of the question. As is running running into the person coming up the drive. Which leaves me with door—or in this case, hallway—number one.
I break into a run, enter said hallway, and freeze. There is only one door, and there's no way it leads outside... not unless someone's idea of a porch door is at seven foot tall metal monstrosity. No, there is absolutely no way that door leads anywhere good, but I don't have much choice. Not when whoever is coming up the drive has almost reached the front door.
Panicking, I break into a run and head for the door. I won't just give up, not now, not yet. When I reach it, I gently turn the door knob and try to open it as silently as I can. There isn't so much of a squeak, but I still hold my breath until I've opened a gap large enough for me to squeeze through.
A small part of me still hopes to be greeted by sunlight, and freedom, but beyond the door there's only darkness. Darkness and a set of stairs leading down. Down to the dungeon. Down to the Rogues. Down to POW's torture chambers. Down to the place where he'll expect to get answers. Down to my doom.
Suddenly, my body is no longer my own. Scenes of torture start to overwhelm me, memories of Dad mixed in with a Pissed Off Wolf conjured by my imagination. He holds up a knife, ready to slice, and panic floods my veins. Terror seizes me in its grip, until I can't move, can't breathe, can't think.
For a second, I let it win, let it consume me. Then, I feel myself taking a deep breath as my mind conjures up thoughts of my fingertips... my palms... my arms... my toes. Scenes of torture slowly dissipate as my body goes through the motions, relaxing each limb until the panic is replaced with calm.
I can do this. I can turn around, head back the way I came, and try to fight my way out. Or I can go downstairs, hide, in the one place POW will never think to look, and sneak out of the house at night while everyone's asleep.
Fight or hide? I take another second to decide, but in the end, the choice is obvious.
1. Is it really that obvious? What do you think? FIGHT or HIDE?
2. What did you think of this chapter?
3. Should Saf ESCAPE or GET CAUGHT?
4. Let's Play a Wolf Pack game: Comment your wish. The next person grants the wish, but corrupts it, then that person comments their own wish. (example: I wish I had a mate ; granted, but your mate rejects you)
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