PROLOGUE

MARCO

For some, the darkness calls to them. It welcomes them with open arms. For others, it smothers them. It holds them captive.

I lived a life in the latter.

For years I’ve been stuck in his darkness. I’ve been trapped in the prison he created.

But tonight freedom awaits.

Rounding the corner, I work to cover my heavy, panicked breaths. I can’t let him hear me. Our safety depends on his not waking up.

And I needed him to not wake up.

This was it. Now or never.

Normally he sleeps like the dead, but lately his paranoia has reached an all-time high. It’s like he knows. It’s like his subconscious is telling him to tighten his grip on us, to watch us closer than ever because he knows the plan we have to leave.

Does he have any idea of the plans I made?

Will we make it?

What happens when he discovers us gone?

I don’t pause to let these thoughts take root. Instead I head down the hall of this lavish home he insisted we live in with him. Six bedrooms, three bathrooms, an indoor pool, and a kitchen large enough to fit an entire event staff are his ideas of perfection.

Each room is the same - white walls filled with classic artwork, expensive and bland. The kind of artwork you invite someone over to show them just to make them feel like they are lesser than you. It’s a display of power, of control over things, and over people too.

Sparse furniture shows that no one is ever truly welcome to stay long. Well, no one but us.

It looks more like a museum than a home. I’ve always hated it here. It’s cold. It’s lonely. It’s filled with bad energy.

I turn down the guest hall quietly with shoes in hand. Though massive and new, the home still has its kinks. Being anal retentive in his desire for control, the floors are cleaned and waxed like clockwork – aka the floors squeak with the slightest touch.

I think when he had us move in, he decided to add the extra noise so he’d keep a better watch of our movements. I don’t recall them shining quite as much before we moved in.

It’s no matter this time though because I know where each step needs to be. I’ve practiced this path for the last month just waiting for the right time, for the right night.

I turn another corner that leads to my destination. This area is at least a bit more welcoming than the rest of the house. All in all he must have known that a child wouldn’t do so well with a completely sterile environment. He designed it in a way that it felt inviting at first.

It was just a mirage in a barren desert though. An image meant to invoke desire for something you couldn’t, and most likely wouldn’t, have.

I almost scoff at the thought of him having a heart beneath all that darkness. No time to think about that now.

Must. Keep. Moving.

Finally, after navigating through the long halls, I reach her room. It’s the only spot of color in an otherwise drab house. The door has her name in sparkly pink letters. I remember the day we happened upon them in a store and I didn’t think, didn’t stop to question, just knew I had to get them for her because of the look in her eyes.

For someone who’d lost so much, I promised myself I’d give her all the best things I could. All the things she loves.

He hated it at first. Wanted nothing more than to chunk the obviously flashy letters into the trash.

But I fought him tooth and nail for it. I knew my precious girl needed something to make this place feel like a home to her, so I suffered the cost of the sparkly pink letters. I took the weight of his anger to give her something of her own.

Every ugly word.

Every bruise to my pride.

Every ounce of hatred he spewed my way.

Sure, it could have been worse. He could have laid his hands on me, or used my one weakness against me. But the emotional damage is lasting too. The cutting words about how worthless I was, how I was his property and his alone, that no alpha would ever want a broken omega, that I was lucky he even kept me.

What I didn't know then was that he had also been suppressing my omega biology with something in the food. He also weaponized his alpha scent against me, slowly cutting me off from my wolf, from my own nature.

His cruelty kept me his prisoner for so long. Too long.

Snapping back to myself, I walk to Lizzie’s bed and kneel next to her sleeping form. I tap her little nose three times, giving her our signal to keep quiet. She quickly opens her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she gazes up at me more alert than any normal child awoken in the middle of the night should be.

“Is it time?” she asks with those gorgeous blue eyes of her.

I put a finger to my lips and nod my head sharply. Though she is just seven years old, my sweet girl is far more advanced than those around her. She knows how important this night is for us.

She grabs the bear that is most precious to her – the one that I've had to sew back together several times - and exits the room with barely a whisper of noise. Together we make it back down the long hallway to the main living area and toward the front door. I enter the code on the alarm panel.

Last week I didn’t even know the code. I never thought to leave without permission, never thought about life without him and his rules.

Tonight, I take back what was robbed of me.

My freedom.

Our freedom.

Opening the door gently I turn us toward the side of the house. The neighborhood is silent in the chilly night air. I can feel every hair on my arms move as the breeze passes, feel every beat of my heart as I try to focus, every step of our feet across the dew-covered grass.

We round the house to the side garage, or the ‘mother-inlaw’ suite as most people call them. It’s really just a place for all the things that he deems unworthy to go. My car. My belongings. My former life. I was only allowed to keep these few things since they were mostly memories from those I’d lost. Otherwise he’d have trashed them as well.

It might have been the only kindness he showed after he convinced me to live here.

We finally make it to the baby blue SUV my brother bought a few short years ago, a few months before everything changed. Lizzie is a pro at strapping in tight, climbing right into her seat while squeezing her bear tight. Her eyes show her nervousness, but she hasn’t spoken a single word since I woke her.

It’s as if we both know any amount of sound could shatter our escape. So instead, we remain silent in our quest to move on. I look in the rearview mirror at her precious face, small and angelic. Little red pouty bow lips, a head full of violent curls daring anyone to tame them, eyes so much like her father it is staggering, and skin the golden color her mother and I both shared.

Looking at her always calms me down. She’s my true north.

Our trunk is filled to the brim with boxes and bags. With his banishing my items to the garage I was able to load the car slowly, piece by piece to prevent him from noticing. I took only the most important memories, the ones that can’t be replaced, the ones that hurt to look at, but make me feel real emotion rather than the numbness he forced me to live in.

Turning the key in the ignition feels like taking a deep breath of fresh air. My body relaxes for the first time in ages. Wasting no more time, I begin to head the car South. New York is never quiet and tonight is no exception. We easily blend in with the other vehicles, all headed to another late-night party or club, decked out to the nines just waiting for the music to kick up for the night, drinks in hand, enjoying life to the fullest.

We’ll never know this life again, nothing this close to what we were trapped in. Our new life will be boring, plain, simple. All the things I’ve craved these last few years while stuck in a fancy glass cage that only looked good from the outside.

What will he do when he finds us gone?

Will he accept us leaving?

Will he hunt us down?

Of course, he’ll try to, but I’ve been careful. I made sure there is no hint of where we are going. I got a burner phone, one that’s easily replaceable. All my cards are in the purse I left in the closet. There’s no way he will find us. I’m heading farther South than he would bother searching.

I doubt he will bother trekking past his precious city, his kingdom, to locate me.

We finally reach the highway, my foot pressing the gas, letting my grip on the wheel loosen just a bit, my white knuckles screaming for relief. It will take about a week to get to our destination – one an old college roommate mentioned during a drunken night sophomore year. Her stay in this small town back when we were just freshmen left such a permanent mark on her that she only talked about it when plastered beyond reason.

“Marco, the men there are so hot. I mean, it’s like they all stepped out of catalogues. The only downside is how remote the town is – it’s practically invisible. If you didn’t know about it, you’d never find it.”

Humans and their self-medicating tendencies. I can’t be too agitated though, because her drunken rambling from long ago is what’s going to save us. She said them way before life got complicated. Before I lost my brother and his partner. Before I gained Lizzie. Before I met him.

Here’s to a new life. To a safe place. To a life of me and Lizzie being free.

No more fear.

No more hiding.