11 Chapter 11 Into the Thicket
“I couldn’t stay here forever, hiding from my problems,” I said, forcing lightness into my tone. My smile felt like plastic stretched over broken glass.
My father was safe. That was all that mattered now.
He released a heavy sigh. “No, little one. Of course not. But she’s my mate. That connection… it’s not something I can simply switch off. The pull is always there, whispering.”
I had to leave. Tonight.
The moment I stepped outside, my performance dropped away like a discarded mask. Now came the dangerous part. I had spent days studying Julian’s surveillance team, learning their patterns, identifying their blind spots, timing their rotations. I could sense the subtle vibrations in the earth when they moved in wolf form, catch their scent when the wind shifted just right. They thought they were invisible, but desperation had made me hyperaware of every detail.
I remembered our hunting trips too. Even though I couldn’t shift like him, couldn’t run on four legs through the ancient forest, I had felt wild and free riding on his massive wolf’s back. The wind whipping through my hair, the scent of pine filling my lungs, the thunder of his paws against the forest floor. In those moments, I had felt like I truly belonged somewhere.
He thought his little girl had found her happily ever after. He believed the darkness of my childhood had been replaced by love and security. The truth would shatter him, and I couldn’t bear to watch his heart break again because of me.
Seraphina’s POV
His gaze shifted to the flickering flames in the fireplace, and the lines of worry around his eyes deepened. We hadn’t spoken about my mother, the woman whose abandonment had carved permanent scars in my heart. But I
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needed to know if he had taken her back, if the mate bond had finally overcome his protective love for me.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Couples have their struggles, but running away isn’t the answer. I’ll let it slide this once, since it gave me time with my daughter. I’ve missed you more than words can say. Just don’t make a habit of it, understood?”
They were skilled at concealment, but desperation had sharpened my senses. I could feel their presence like a constant weight, their eyes tracking my every movement. They had been surveying my father’s property for days now, and their patient surveillance sent ice through my veins.
I rose from my chair and wrapped my arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke. He held me fiercely, and for one dangerous moment I wanted to collapse into his embrace and confess everything. Tell him about the contract, the forced marriage, the cold emptiness of my life with Julian. But I had cried enough tears. I was done being a victim.
I squeezed through the opening, thorns catching at my clothes and skin. Once I was through, I paused for one last look back toward the cabin, now invisible through the trees.
“I’ll never forgive her,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “But if you want her back, if you think she could make you happy again… then follow your heart. You deserve every joy this world can offer.”
Deeper in the woods, I found my predetermined landmark. A thicket of thorny brambles concealed a narrow passage leading down to an old streambed. The opening was nearly invisible from above, accessible only to someone who knew exactly where to look.
Those memories were treasures I would carry forever, proof of a love that
had never wavered.
“Have you reconciled with her?”
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So I continued weaving my web of lies, describing imaginary dates with Julian, fictional moments of tenderness that had never existed. My father drank in every fabricated detail with such genuine happiness that guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife.
Despite everything, being here with him brought back memories that still held light. Our fishing expeditions down by the old river, where the only sounds were lapping water and the occasional tug of a fish on the line. He had taught me patience there, shown me how to read the current and understand the rhythm of nature. Those quiet moments had been pure
peace.
He embraced me one final time, unaware that he was saying goodbye forever.
Saying goodbye felt like losing a piece of my soul. I didn’t know when I would see him again, or if I ever would. This was farewell to my only sanctuary.
The weight of my lies pressed down on my chest like stones. For days now, I had been spinning tales of happiness to my father, crafting a fantasy life that existed only in my desperate imagination. Each smile I forced, each laugh I manufactured, felt like betrayal. But seeing the joy in his weathered face when he believed I was finally content made the deception feel necessary.
I knew their separation was my fault. He couldn’t forgive her for the damage she had inflicted on me, couldn’t reconcile his love for his mate with his duty to protect his daughter. But I also understood the agony of mate separation. The constant ache, the feeling of incompleteness. For him, with his wolf’s heightened emotions, the pain must be excruciating.
His honesty hit me like a physical blow, but I was grateful for it. He had always given me truth, even when it hurt.
My escape route was carefully planned. Instead of taking the main trail they certainly monitored, I slipped into the dense woodland behind the cabin. This forest was my childhood playground, every hidden path and secret grove burned into my memory. Here, I had the advantage.
When I pulled back to look at him, I forced myself to ask the question we had
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11 Chapter 11 Into the Thicket
both been avoiding.
“I’ll call you soon,” I promised, the lie bitter on my tongue.
I had just finished spinning another elaborate lie about my “reconciliation” with Julian. My father believed every word, convinced I was returning to loving arms after some minor disagreement. If only he knew the truth about the prison I was escaping.
But happiness never lasted long in my life. I knew that better than anyone. And I knew Julian’s men would eventually track me here. The realization hit me on the first day when I caught a subtle movement in the treeline that was too deliberate to be wildlife. By the second day, I spotted the brief glint of metal through the leaves.
Moving like a shadow, I removed my jacket and deliberately snagged it on a branch near a game trail. The small deception might buy me precious time, suggesting I had merely stepped away briefly or grown warm during a casual
walk.
“I’m so relieved you’ve worked things out with your mate, sweetheart,” my father said, his voice warm as honey as he poured steaming tea into chipped ceramic mugs. The familiar ritual felt both comforting and heartbreaking.
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