Cassidy
I watched Kieran warily, my back pressed against the farthest wall of his chambers. I had no weapons, no plan—only the cold, sinking knowledge that I was alone in this.
He was still standing by the fireplace, sipping his drink like none of this mattered. Like he hadn't just declared me as his mate in front of an entire room of supernaturals.
Like he hadn't just ruined my life.
He exhaled slowly, setting the glass down. "We leave for Canada at dawn."
I blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." He turned, his expression unreadable. "You're coming with me."
The words didn't make sense at first.
Canada?
Away from Garrick? Away from this estate?
I should have felt relieved. But I wasn't relieved.
Because no matter where he took me—whether it was America, Canada, or the ends of the earth—I wouldn't be free.
"You can't do that," I said, voice hoarse.
Kieran raised a brow. "I think you'll find that I can."
Anger surged through me. "You don't get to decide my life!"
His expression remained calm. "I do now."
I lunged before I could think better of it.
Not at him—I wasn't that reckless.
I bolted for the door, my bare feet barely making a sound against the stone floor.
I reached for the handle—
Kieran caught me before I could even touch it.
One second, I was almost free. The next, I was trapped, his arms around me, my back pressed against his chest.
"No," he murmured, voice low in my ear.
I struggled, thrashing against his grip, but it was like fighting against iron. He didn't even flinch.
"Let me go!" I hissed.
He didn't.
Instead, he sighed, as if I were an inconvenience. A stubborn inconvenience.
"You're not running," he said. "Not now. Not ever."
Rage boiled in my veins.
I threw my head back, aiming for his jaw.
I barely grazed him, but it was enough to make him move—just slightly.
It was the opening I needed.
I twisted in his grip, bringing my knee up toward his stomach.
It didn't land.
But something flickered in Kieran's dark eyes.
Approval.
Damn him.
I gritted my teeth, my breath coming fast. "You can't keep me."
Kieran studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he loosened his grip.
He didn't let me go completely, but he wasn't holding me as tightly anymore.
It didn't feel like a victory.
"I don't want to keep you," he said, voice quiet. "But I have to."
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
His jaw tensed. "Because if I don't, Garrick will."
I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That I wasn't important enough for Garrick to care.
But we both knew that was a lie.
Kieran took a slow breath, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
I hated how calm he sounded. How certain.
Like he already knew I wouldn't be able to escape.
I glared at him. "I can't sleep with you watching me."
His lips twitched, but he didn't argue.
I took a step back, slowly this time. I turned toward the bed—not because I wanted to sleep, but because I needed to think.
Because no matter what Kieran Duskbane thought…
I would find a way out.
---
I didn't sleep.
I sat on the edge of the massive bed, my hands curled into fists, my mind racing. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. Outside, the estate was quiet, the night stretching thick and endless.
Kieran had settled into a chair across the room, one ankle resting over his knee, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.
He hadn't touched me again.
Hadn't even looked at me since our last exchange.
It should have felt like a victory.
But it wasn't.
Because I knew why.
He wasn't watching me, because he didn't have to.
He knew I wasn't going anywhere.
He thinks I've given up.
The realization burned through me, sharp and hot.
I forced myself to breathe, to keep my expression calm. Let him believe that. Let him think I was too exhausted, too broken, too weak to try again.
Let him underestimate me.
Because the second an opportunity came, I would take it.
Kieran took another slow sip of his drink. "You should rest," he murmured.
I didn't answer.
I wasn't about to let him lull me into complacency.
He exhaled through his nose, like my silence amused him.
Fine.
Let him be amused.
Let him believe that I was just sitting here, waiting to be taken to Canada like some helpless thing.
Let him believe whatever the hell he wanted.
Because the second his guard was down—
I was gone.
---
I waited until the first slivers of dawn crept through the windows.
Kieran had moved from the chair at some point, his coat draped over the backrest. He slept on the opposite side of the bed, his back to me.
The door was still locked.
But the windows weren't.
I moved carefully, my heartbeat hammering in my throat. I kept my steps light, my breath steady. The wind outside was cold, the morning air crisp with the promise of a new day.
A day that I would not be spending in this room.
One step.
Two.
Kieran didn't move.
Three steps.
My fingers brushed the window latch.
Four—
"Don't," he said.
I froze.
My stomach twisted violently as he turned, his gaze sharp, unimpressed.
I swallowed hard. "You were asleep."
Kieran's lips twitched. "No. I was waiting."
A slow, terrible realization settled over me.
He'd known.
He'd been waiting for me to try again.
And I'd walked right into his trap.
"Try it again," he said casually, rolling his shoulders, "and I will tie you to the bed."
I shivered at the promise in his voice.
Not because I thought he was bluffing.
But because I knew he wasn't.
My fists clenched. "You can't keep me like this."
Kieran exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And yet, here we are."
Fury ignited in my chest.
I lunged for the window anyway.
I didn't even make it a full step before he was on me.
One second I was moving—the next, I was pinned.
Kieran caught my wrist, twisting me back toward him, my spine pressed against his chest. His grip was firm, but not painful.
"Enough," he growled.
I struggled, but it was useless.
I was smaller. Weaker. Human.
And Kieran?
He was a predator. A wolf built for the hunt.
A wolf built to win.
I hated him.
I hated the way he made escape seem impossible.
I hated the way my body recognized him, the way my pulse stuttered when his grip tightened around my wrist.
I hated all of it.
I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the tremor out of my voice. "I will never stop trying."
Kieran stilled.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, to my utter shock—he laughed.
Not loudly. Not mockingly. Just a low, quiet chuckle that rumbled through his chest.
"Good," he murmured.
I blinked. "Good?"
He loosened his grip slightly, his breath warm against my ear. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
My heart pounded.
I hated him.
I hated him, I hated him, I hated him.
But he still didn't let go.
And this time, when I stopped struggling—
It wasn't because I had given up.
It was because I was waiting.
Because I still had one more chance.
And I was going to take it.
Even if it killed me.
---