Page 20 of His Claim
“Tell me more about Kendra and Lia,” I began carefully, my voice low. “Tell me what you remember before…” I trailed off, letting the weight of captivity hang unspoken between us.
Her lips parted, her throat working like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to give me anything, but then, slowly, she leaned forward, her elbows on the counter.
“The night before Kendra was taken,” she said softly, “we snuck into the old mall.”
I glanced at her, then back at the pan, letting her take all the time she needed to tell the story in her own way.
“We found our way into one of the theaters,” she went on. “The screen still worked, somehow. The power grid flickered on for a few hours at night, and I was the one who figured out how to work the projector.”
Her eyes softened with the memory, her lips curving faintly. “We watchedThe Breakfast Club. Some ancient movie with a group of teenagers being detained after school. Their world was so small, so… normal. And we sat there, in a room full of broken seats and mildew, pretending we were normal too.”
Her voice broke, just a fraction. “We laughed. For a few hours, it wasn’t wolves and fear and the terrible world we lived in. It was just… us. Just us friends.”
I listened in silence, the spoon pausing in my hand. I could see it as she spoke, three girls curled up in a ruined theater, lightflickering on their faces, laughter echoing in the dark. I wished I could have seen it.
I swallowed hard, turning back to the pan. “Sounds like a good night.”
“It was,” she whispered.
I plated the food, browned venison with a bit of canned potatoes, and set it in front of her. She looked down at the plate, then up at me, suspicion and gratitude warring in her eyes.
I leaned against the counter across from her, folding my arms. “You’ll have nights like that again,” I said quietly. “Not the same. Nothing ever is. But you’ll laugh with them again. You’ll be with them again.”
Her eyes locked on mine, wary but hopeful, then they softened just a bit. For the first time since I’d claimed her, she didn’t look like she wanted to claw my eyes out.
She ate slowly, her fork scraping the edge of the dented tin plate. I let her have the silence, let her decide if she wanted to keep talking.
When her plate was half-empty, I cleared my throat. “Tell me about when you tried to escape. With Lia.”
Her hand stilled on the fork. Her eyes flicked up, and her face pinched like I’d pressed on a bruise.
I held her gaze. “Lia told me what happened, in pieces, but I want to hear it from you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Then she sighed, setting the fork down with a faint clatter. “The night we found out about the fertility drug, the wolves came for all of us. Lia and I slippedout through a broken vent in the warehouse we were hiding in. We thought… maybe… maybe it was our chance to get away for good.”
Her voice caught, and she looked past me, into the shadows of the room. “We made it to the outer gates. I could see the trees. Freedom wasright there.”
Her jaw tightened. “But they spotted us. We ran. Hard as we could. And then…” She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “One of them grabbed me. I screamed for Lia to go. To keep running. To find help.”
Her hands clenched tight in her lap. “She didn’t want to leave me, but I made her; I screamed for her to go! I prayed she’d make it out even when I couldn’t.”
I took a slow breath. The thought of her—barefoot, terrified, screaming at her friend to run—tightened my chest until it ached.
“They dragged me back,” she said, more quietly now. “I thought that was it. That they’d make an example out of me. But they didn’t.” Her gaze flicked to mine, defiant, like she expected me not to believe her. “They didn’t hurt me.”
“Not at all?” I pressed, careful.
She shook her head. “No. Not in the ways I feared. They shoved me into a cell. Locked me up tight. But they never laid hands on me.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face. Like she hadn’t expected me to mean it.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter, close enough for her to feel my heat, but not so close she’d think I was crowding her. “You did what you had to do that night. You gave Lia a chance. And because of that, she’s alive. That’s strength, Mariah, not weakness.”
She looked at me then, really looked, and for a heartbeat her eyes shined with something other than malice.
“You don’t know what it means to me,” she whispered. “Hearing that they’re alive.”
