I caught people staring. Judging. I pretended not to care, but every glance was a dagger, every hushed conversation another wound.
The worst part? I was alone.
Vander had promised to stand by me, and he did, but his responsibilities kept pulling him away. He had his own pack, his own problems. He couldn’t always be here, protecting me.
I had to be strong.
But strength didn’t stop the nightmares. The fear.
One evening, as I walked home from the café, a chill crept down my spine. The feeling of being watched.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Two men. Strangers. They didn’t move, but I felt their eyes on me.
My pulse quickened. I gripped my coat tighter, my fingers trembling.
They didn’t follow, but I knew better than to ignore my instincts.
I reached my apartment, locked the door behind me, and exhaled.
It’s fine. I’m imagining things. I turned—and froze.
A letter sat on the floor, just inside my door.
My blood ran cold. I hadn’t heard anyone slide it under.
With shaking hands, I picked it up, unfolding the paper.
Only one sentence was written.
[Return before the birth, or we will take the child ourselves.]
I dropped the letter, my breath coming fast.
They were watching me. They were waiting.
And no matter where I ran, they would find me.
My stomach twisted in fear, my hand instinctively pressing against my belly.
They weren’t going to let me go. I wasn’t free.
I was trapped. And this time—there was no way out.
