Page 53 of Sold Bullied Mate

The voice of my former alpha leader.

Dorian’s grandfather.

The man that my pack believed I murdered.

Their voices come to me untethered, no visual to accompany it. Just their voices in a vast darkness, as though I’ve poked my head into the room, eyes closed.

“This room isn’t for you, Dorian,” I hear him saying. “It’s for someone like Ash. The point of this isneverfor you to hide in here, you get that?”

“Of course, Gramps.”

Dorian’s little voice, pre-puberty. He must have been about twelve when they had this discussion. I can imagine it, the two of them standing here, his grandfather with his arms crossed, his wiry hair popping up from all angles on his head.

“And the code you pick, it should have nothing to do with you, alright? No birthdays, no nothing special. Last thing you need is for someone to guess what it could be. Let’s go with something random, alright? What you got?”

Dorian answers, hesitantly, “Five … six … two … eight.”

“That’s random?” his grandfather confirms.

“Yes.”

A second later, breaking free of the memory, I’m pushing out of the heavy door to the panic room, sucking in a breath of basement air. It takes me a moment to figure out the secret panel, how to push against it, and once it’s closed behind me, I take the steps two at a time, euphoria rushing through me.

I am so much more than Dorian thinks I am. Not just some asset to be protected—a force to be reckoned with. I think about Jerrod, how his hand connected with my face all those weeks ago, and realize I want to learn how to defend myself. That it’s high time I learned how to fight back.

It’s not until I’m in the guest bedroom, filling a duffel bag from under the bed with the weird mix of clothes from Ash and what I’ve managed to sew myself, that I realize I’m leaving.

Maybe Dorian can come and find me, beg for my forgiveness, but I’m definitely not staying here like a good little girl until he comes back. He’ll have to crawl on his knees to me, claim me as his mate in front of everyone, beg for my grace—

“Kira?”

When I spin around, I’m not expecting to see her.

But, at the sight of my mother, all my walls come crumbling down. It’s like the five-year-old version of me steps forward when I fly into her arms, folding her much smallerframe into my arms, the sobs ripping out of me before I even realize they’re coming.

“Mom,” I sob, falling apart further when her hand is on my back, rubbing large, soothing circles.

“Oh,honey,” she breathes. “I was looking for you everywhere—I didn’t know what Dorian did—”

“It’s okay,” I gasp, pulling back, wiping the tears from my eyes, but when I catch a glimpse of her concerned face, I start to fall apart again, everything flooding out of me. “Everything is so messed up,” I rasp, sitting down on the bed so hard the duffel beside me bounces. “I’m—I’m pregnant, and—”

She gasps, and I look up, sucking in quick, devastated breaths, feeling like I can’t breathe.

“Darling,” she says, coming to my side, rubbing her hand up and down my arm. “Come with me. We’re going to get you a warm mug of tea and talk this through, okay?”

Something in the back of my mind hesitates, pulls away from her, remembers all the times she’s hurt me throughout my life. The other part of me insists that this is mymother—that if I can’t trust her, really, who can I trust?

So I stand, and I walk out the door with her, letting her lead me down the stairs, to the front door. Outside, the area is deceitfully peaceful. Something must have been going on for Dorian to rush away like that, but to either side of us, the low-lying, sprawling trees rustle in a slow breeze. A lizard climbs up the side of the house.

There’s not another soul out here, and no signs of distress.

“Come on, love,” my mother says, tucking me into her car gently. I let her close the door behind me, and stare upat Dorian’s house as we reverse, watching the front door get smaller and smaller.

She reaches over, running her hand over my hair gently, smiles, and says, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby.”

Chapter 33 - Dorian

I always run faster with Emin at my side. A decades-old competition between us, one that I just barely win each time. This is no different; each of us shifted into our wolf forms, racing over the barren terrain toward the northern border.

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