Page 40 of Pack to the Wall

"Let go of me." The words came out sharper than she'd actually intended.

Zev froze, alarm flashing across his face. His hand dropped away as if she'd burned him.

"Shit—Chrissy, I didn't mean to?—"

But she was already backing away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just need space. Please."

Before he could say anything else, she turned and ran toward her villa, her bare feet slapping against the smooth stone pathway. The tears came faster now, blurring her vision as she fled from the man who had made her feel truly alive, protected, and cherished.

Sobs racked her body as she burst through her villa door, slamming it behind her. She slid down against it, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Stupid," she whispered fiercely to herself. "So stupid to think I could have this."

Five perfect days. Five days of freedom, of being seen for who she really was, of feeling Zev's touch, and finally understanding what it meant to be worshipped rather than possessed. And now it was ending, just like she should have known it would.

The irony wasn't lost on her—that she'd recorded that song about finding her peace, her home, and her wild heart in Zev's arms, only for it to become the very thing that tore them apart. She should have known Marty would find a way to monitor even her private creative moments. That he would exploit even this most intimate expression of her newfound joy.

Chrissy pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her breaking heart as the afternoon sun painted golden stripes across the villa floor. In just a few hours, she'd be back in her cage, with only memories of how freedom tasted.

Her sobs subsided into hiccups as a commotion outside her villa door broke through her misery. Raised voices ricocheted off the walls, punctuated by angry exclamations that made her skin prickle. Wiping her swollen eyes with the heel of her palm, she pushed herself up from the floor.

When she pulled the door open, the noise hit her like a physical force. At least two dozen pack members crowded her porch, their expressions ranging from openly hostile to bitterly disappointed. She recognized a few faces—the children she'd sung with and what she assumed were their parents, and resort staff who'd smiled at her just yesterday.

A tall woman with silver-streaked black hair thrust her phone in Chrissy's face. "Is this how you repay our hospitality? By exposing our home to the world?"

On the screen, Chrissy saw herself among the ancient ruins, singing the song she'd composed for Zev—their private moment, now viewed by millions.

"That wasn't me," Chrissy protested. "I didn't post that. I would never?—"

"Save your celebrity lies," a middle-aged man cut in. "My daughter follows you online. She showed us as soon as it went live on your official account."

"My account was hacked by my manager's team," Chrissy explained, her voice breaking. "They monitor everything I do. I thought I was just recording something private?—"

"Just like a human," someone muttered from the back. "Coming here like she owns the place, then broadcasting our location to the world."

A younger woman pushed forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Decades—centuries of secrecy, blown apart because you wanted social media attention."

Chrissy's cheeks burned with both shame and frustration. "I understand why you're upset, but please believe me—this wasn't intentional. I'm already planning to leave. My manager is sending a plane at six, and I'll be gone before sunset."

The silver-haired woman exchanged glances with the others, her nostrils flaring slightly. "We'll wait right here until you go. Make sure there are no more... accidents."

Staring into their distrustful faces, Chrissy felt a stab of bitter irony. For five days, she'd been free from the prison of scrutiny and judgment—only to face a different kind here, from people who refused to see past the image Marty had created for her.

"Fine," she said, lifting her chin. "Whatever makes you feel better."

She closed the door with deliberate control, though every cell in her body wanted to slam it. Turning the lock with trembling fingers, she leaned against the cool wood and peered through theside window. They were still there, their arms crossed, and their faces set in stone-like determination.

The unfairness of it burned like acid. She'd finally found a place where she felt alive again—where she'd discovered what it meant to be loved for who she really was—and now she was being forced to leave, treated like an outcast by the very people whose Alpha had claimed her as his mate.

Where was Zev now, when she really needed him? Why wasn't he here, standing up for her?

As if summoned by her thoughts, she caught a glimpse of movement at the back of the crowd. Her heart leapt, then plummeted as she realized it wasn't him. Just more pack members, joining the vigil.

"This isn't fair," she whispered to the empty room, hugging herself tightly as she slid down onto a nearby chair. "I didn't do this."

Through the window, she could see the pack members settling in, some sitting on the steps, others standing guard like sentinels. The message was unmistakable. You're not welcome here anymore.

Five days of perfect freedom. Five days of passion, connection, and belonging—gone in an instant because of Marty's ruthless manipulation.

---