Page 79 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

He’s going to use her the exact same way her father has. As a prop to show what a good man he is. A wife whose devotion is forced through alpha barks and commands.

“No way,” I mutter, shaking my head. “No fucking way.” I lunge before I can think better of it, needing to wipe that smug little smile off Bell’s face.

The bodyguard opens his jacket, revealing his sidearm in warning, but doesn’t draw it, as if that would be enough to keep me from advancing.

Tic claps a hand on my shoulder and tugs me backward. I don’t know if he can tell I’m about to go feral, but it’s there. Bloodlust simmering on my tongue. I want to rip Bell apart for even suggesting such a thing. Haven deserves so much better. Hell, she deserves better than us, but I’m not sure anyone in my pack could give her up at this point. Even Hale. Though he’d probably still deny it.

Through red shaded eyes I watch as Hale smiles tightly and holds his hand out to our enemy, clasps hands and shakes. I have to bite back a growl, but it still rumbles deep in my chest, a warning to anyone close by. I’m not fucking around here.

Tic all but shoves me in the back seat of the car, slamming the door in my face before rounding to the other side and sliding in next to me. He grips my shoulders and gives me a shake, making me face him, meet his eyes. “Breathe, Jude. Fuck. You need to breathe, okay? You can’t go feral right now. It won’t help Haven if Bell’s bodyguard shoots you or you get arrested for murder.”

“He’d be dead,” I grit out, loving the sound of it. My alpha roars his approval in my chest at the thought. “He’d never be able to bark at her again, force her to marry an alpha just like him.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Hale says as he and Creed slip into the front seats. “We’re getting her out of there well before any I do’s are said. Right?”

“Fuck yeah,” Creed says. “Tonight. We get her out to-fucking-night.”

The certainty in his voice, along with the confidence he sends down our bond, has me relaxing slightly, but not completely. I won’t be able to do that until Haven is safe in my arms, protected, happy, free of her father’s commands.

Chapter 20: I can’t. I can’t.

Today has been tough.

Who am I kidding? The last two weeks have been fucking tough. Ever since I left the Calloway pack house has been tough. I couldn’t leave my room for the first week. Confined to bed thanks to my father’s fists, his cane, and his denial of any sort of pain medication. He wanted me tofeelmy punishment, to learn from it.

Moving hurt. I forced myself to shuffle to the bathroom three times a day to relieve myself, and showering was a big fucking chore. The hot water was painful against my tender skin. The bath would have been better, but I didn’t trust myself to climb in and out of it without my muscles giving up, which would undoubtedly result in me falling and cracking my head on the pristine white tile.

It sucked, but it’s manageable, even if I’ve never felt this kind of physical pain before, this intensity.

It paled in comparison to the pain in my heart, my soul.

He commanded me not to talk to them. Not to text. Not to go to them. No emails. No telling anyone about what happened. No asking Florence to talk to them, to let them know. If they show up, I’m to remain in my bedroom, silent like a mouse.

He could have told me to block them on my cell, on my email, but this too is a punishment. To have them reach out to me, to read their messages of concern for me, demands for me to respond and to be unable to. I’ve crafted a million responses to all of their messages, stored them away in my head, jotting them in my journal. Carefully penning in their text, and then writing what my response would be if I’d been able to type anything back.

I know it’s weird, but it helped.

Or itwashelping until today, when I’d wandered down to the security office and found Chuck arguing with a voice I know all too well. As soon as I realized Hale was outside, my father’s command took hold, demanding I return to my room. And instead I stayed. Stayed and watched through the camera, drank up every ounce of the Calloway pack I could. I opened my mouth and forced words out, words that urged them to go away. I heard Hale speak to me, like he knew I was there, listening, waiting with my heart in my throat and a migraine building behind my eyes.

I waited until they backed out of the driveway and then gave in to my father’s demand.

Too late to avoid the migraine. With no pain medication on hand, the most I could do was close all the blinds, shut off all the lights, and lay on my bed with a cool washcloth draped over my eyes.

I focused on my breathing, in and out, for hours. Literally.

It’s dark out now, and I have no clue what time it is, only that it must be relatively late. The house is quiet.

I push myself to my feet and slowly make my way to the blackout curtains over my windows, pushing them open and peering outside. Dark, dark, dark. Only the silvery light of the moon offers any illumination.

I leave the curtains open and the light off, retreating to the bathroom, where I rinse the sweat from my skin and the lingering fuzziness from my migraine from my mind. Feeling moderately better, I wrap myself in a towel and step into my still dark room.

I’ll throw on some clothes and then head to the kitchen for a light snack. My stomach won’t be able to handle a full meal, but I can’t go to sleep on an empty stomach. It’s not healthy. Only when I get to my bedroom door, its locked.

My father locked me in while I was in the throes of a migraine, unable to even move. But he was still concerned about me getting out. Even with the commands he put on me. My fingers grip the handle tighter, and I feel the first inkling of panic in my chest.

He hasn’t kept me locked in my room the entire time I’ve been here. Not once.

Granted, I couldn’t really move, not while I was healing.

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