Chapter 10

Zoe

I burst out of Marcus's front door, my heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape. The cool night air hits my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere I've just fled. My mind replays the intense argument between Marcus and Liam, their raised voices still echoing in my ears.

"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter under my breath, wrapping my arms around myself.

As I reach the end of the driveway, I fumble for my phone with trembling hands. The screen blurs as tears threaten to spill over. I blink them back furiously, refusing to let them fall. I've cried enough tears in my life; I won't shed any more over a situation I should have never allowed myself to be in.

"Get it together, Zoe," I mutter to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. I open the Uber app, my finger hovering over the screen. Where do I even want to go? Home feels too lonely right now, but I can't think of anywhere else that would offer solace.

As I debate my destination, the events of the past hour replay in my mind like a movie I can't turn off. The heat of Marcus's body as he held me close, the raw emotion in his eyes as he confessed his feelings, the way my heart soared and plummeted in the same breath. And then Liam's arrival, his face contorted with betrayal and anger. The shouting, the accusations, the look of anguish on Marcus's face as he was torn between his brother and... me.

Me. The girl who grew up bouncing from one foster home to another, never quite belonging anywhere. The girl who learned early on that family is precious, fragile, and not something to be taken for granted. And here I am, driving a wedge between two brothers who only have each other.

"I can't do this," I whisper, my thumb finally pressing down to request a ride. The app chirps cheerfully, informing me that a driver is on the way. Five minutes. I have five minutes to pull myself together.

As I wait for a ride to appear, my mind drifts back to Marcus. His strong arms, his protective presence, the way his eyes seemed to see right through me. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine a future with him, a sense of belonging I've always craved.

"Stop it," I scold myself, shaking my head. "You're being ridiculous. You barely know him."

But even as I try to dismiss these thoughts, I can't ignore the ache in my chest. It's as if something fundamental has shifted inside me, like a puzzle piece I didn't know was missing has suddenly clicked into place.

A car appears on my screen, and I quickly confirm the ride, desperate to put some distance between myself and the Blackwood brothers. I pace back and forth on the sidewalk, my nerves frayed and my emotions raw.

"What were you thinking, getting involved with Liam in the first place?" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "And now Marcus? God, Zoe, you're such a mess."

I try to focus on my breathing, attempting to calm my racing heart. In, out. In, out. But with each exhale, I feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. Am I doing the right thing by leaving? Should I go back and try to explain? The questions swirl in my mind, each one leading to another, until I'm dizzy with indecision.

A car turns onto the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness. Relief washes over me as I see my Uber. I step forward, eager to escape this emotional minefield.

I slide into the backseat, confirming my address to the driver without really looking at him. The car pulls away from the curb, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling like I can finally start to breathe again.

It's only when we've been driving for a few minutes that I realize we're heading in the wrong direction. The familiar streets of Whispering Pines are giving way to darker, less populated areas. My heart rate picks up, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

"Excuse me," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "I think you've made a wrong turn. My house is in the other direction."

The driver doesn't respond. He doesn't even look back at me. Panic starts to claw its way up my throat.

"Hey!" I say louder, leaning forward. "Did you hear me? You're going the wrong way!"

That's when he finally turns, and the sight of his face in the rearview mirror makes my blood run cold. It's not the bored expression of an Uber driver who's made a mistake. It's a predatory grin, eyes glinting with malicious intent.

"Oh, I heard you just fine, Zoe," he says. "But we're not going to your house. We're going somewhere much more... private."

Recognition hits me like a punch to the gut, but my mind struggles to catch up with the reality of the situation. At first, I'm simply frozen with fear, unable to comprehend how I've ended up in this nightmare scenario. This can't be happening. It has to be some sort of mistake, right?

As the initial shock wears off, my thoughts race frantically, trying to make sense of it all. Is this just a creepy Uber driver? A random act of violence? But something about his words, the way he said my name, nags at me. It's familiar in a terrifying way.

Then it clicks. The threatening messages. The constant fear. The reason Marcus was assigned to protect me. This isn't some random creep. This is him. The stalker. The one who's been tormenting me and other women in the pack.

Fear paralyzes me anew as the full weight of the situation crashes down. This can't be real. This has to be a nightmare. But the rough fabric of the car seat under my fingers, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the interior, the cold sweat trickling down my back—it's all too visceral to be a dream. I'm trapped, and the monster I've been running from has finally caught up with me.

I lunge for the door handle, yanking at it desperately, but it doesn't budge. Child locks. I'm trapped.

"Now, now, Zoe," the man says, his tone mockingly soothing. "There's no need for that. We're going to have a nice little chat, you and I. About how you've been a very naughty girl, cozying up to those mutts."

Without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a syringe filled with an ominous clear liquid. He holds it up so I can see it in the rearview mirror.

"See this?" he says, his voice cold. "If you don't settle down right now, I'll have to use it. And trust me, you don't want that. So be a good girl and sit quietly, or you'll wake up with one hell of a headache. Understand?"

I nod, my whole body trembling with fear.

"Good girl," he sneers. "You'll fit right in with the other one. She's been so well-behaved."

My heart skips a beat. Other one? He already has someone else? The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the fight drains out of me. I can't risk getting hurt or killed when there's someone else depending on me to get help.

The car lurches as we turn onto what feels like a dirt road, each bump and pothole sending jolts of pain through my body. I grit my teeth, determined not to make a sound. I won't give my captor the satisfaction of hearing my discomfort.

After what feels like hours, but could have been mere minutes, the car comes to a stop.

The doors swing open. A rough hand grabs my arm, yanking me out of the vehicle. I stumble, but manage to stay upright.

I take in my surroundings. We're in a small clearing, surrounded by dense forest. A rustic cabin stands before us, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the wilderness around it. In any other circumstance, it might have been charming. Now, it looms ominously, a prison disguised as a retreat.

"Move," my captor growls, shoving me towards the cabin.

We enter the cabin, and he steers me towards a door that clearly leads to a basement. My stomach churns as we descend the creaky stairs. The basement is dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and mold.

"Welcome to your new home," he sneers, pushing me into the room and slamming the door as he leaves. I stumble, nearly falling, but catch myself at the last moment. My heart races, fear clawing at my throat as I realize the gravity of my situation.

As I regain my balance, I realize I'm not alone. In the corner is a familiar face – Chloe, the woman I'd hung out with at the pack house just last night. Her light brown hair is disheveled, and her glasses are slightly askew. Her kind eyes, usually bright with warmth, are now wide with terror.

"Zoe?" Chloe gasps, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear. "Oh god, are you okay?"

I nod, even though 'okay' is the last thing I feel right now. My hands shake as I try to steady myself. "I'm alright," I reply, my own voice sounding hoarse and unfamiliar, laced with barely concealed panic.

"Chloe, how did you end up here?" I ask, my concern for her momentarily overriding my own terror.

Chloe takes a shaky breath before responding, her eyes darting nervously to the door. "I live in a cabin near the edge of Whispering Pines pack territory. Last night, I was getting ready for bed when... when he broke in." Her voice breaks as she continues, fear evident in every word. "We all thought we were safe on pack lands. Nobody imagined the threat would dare to enter our territory."

The implications of her words sink in, and my fear intensifies. "The pack thought their borders were secure?"

Chloe nods grimly, hugging herself as if for protection. "We got complacent, especially those of us living on the outskirts. There was this false sense of security, you know? But him coming onto our land, taking me from my own home..." She trails off, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. "It shows he's escalating, Zoe. He's taking bigger risks, getting bolder. Who knows what he might do to us?"

I feel a wave of nausea at her words, the reality of our situation hitting me full force. Trying to gather more information, I ask, my voice quivering, "Do you know where we are?"

Chloe shakes her head, her fear palpable. "Some cabin in the woods, I think. We could be miles from help."

"Do you know the man who brought us here?" I ask, moving closer to Chloe, relief and dread mingling in my chest at the sight of a familiar face in this nightmare.

She nods, her eyes filling with tears. "It's Mark. Mark Anderson. He used to be part of the Howling Pines pack, but..." She trails off, looking away, her body tensing.

"But what?" I prompt gently, sensing there's more to the story, my own fear growing.

Chloe takes a shaky breath. "He was Sarah's ex-boyfriend. Sarah Mitchell, you know her? She just mated with Dr. Morgan. Everyone thought Mark had been banished from the area after... well, after things went bad with Sarah. But apparently, he's still here. And now he has us."

"Do you know what he wants?" I ask, my mind racing with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

Chloe shakes her head, her voice barely audible. "He hasn't said much. Just... he keeps muttering about revenge and making things right. Zoe, I'm scared. What if he... what if he hurts us?"

I nod, processing this information, trying to push down the rising panic. My eyes scan the room, desperately searching for any means of escape.

The basement is sparse – concrete floors, bare walls, a small window too high and too small to offer an escape route. There's a threadbare couch pushed against one wall, a rickety table with two chairs, and a door that I assume leads to a bathroom.

The window is too small and too high to be an escape route. The door looks solid, with no visible weak points. But there has to be something we can use.

"We need to find a way out of here," I say, more to myself than to Chloe.

She looks at me with hope and fear. "Do you really think we can?"

I meet her gaze, summoning every ounce of determination I possess. "We have to try."

For the next hour, Chloe and I methodically examine every inch of our prison. We test the strength of the chairs, look for loose nails or screws, even check if the table legs could be unscrewed and used as weapons. But everything is frustratingly secure.

As our search proves fruitless, I feel the first tendrils of despair creeping in. I slump against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. Unbidden, an image of Marcus flashes through my mind—his strong, reassuring presence, the way he always made me feel safe. God, I wish he were here now.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asks, her voice laced with concern.

I open my eyes and give her a weak smile. "Just... thinking about someone."

She nods, a knowing look in her eyes. "Marcus?"

I nod. "Yeah. I can't stop thinking about him."

Chloe settles beside me, her shoulder brushing mine in a gesture of solidarity. "Want to talk about it? Might help take our minds off... this," she gestures vaguely at our surroundings.

For a moment, I hesitate. But there's something about our shared predicament that breaks down the usual barriers.

"It's just... so complicated," I begin, surprised by the warmth that floods through me at just thinking about Marcus. "With Liam and the pack dynamics and everything."

Chloe nods encouragingly. "But you care about him."

I smile, thinking of the rare moments when Marcus let his guard down around me. "Yeah, I do. He's been so protective lately, with all the threats against single women in the pack."

"And you've fallen for him," Chloe says softly. It's not a question.

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I... I don't know. Maybe."

Chloe reaches out and squeezes my hand. "The heart wants what it wants," she says with a small smile. "Even when it's inconvenient."

Her words hit home, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. "Yeah," I whisper. "I just... I keep thinking about him, wishing he was here to help us. But then I feel guilty for not being strong enough to get us out of this myself."

"Hey," Chloe says firmly, "wanting help doesn't make you weak. We're pack, even if I'm... well, even if I'm not exactly a normal pack member."

Her words pique my curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Chloe hesitates, then takes a deep breath. "I... I can't shift," she admits, her voice barely audible. "I was born a wolf-shifter, but I've never been able to actually shift. It's... it's not something I talk about much."

The vulnerability in her admission touches something deep inside me. I squeeze her hand, offering what comfort I can. "That must be really hard," I say softly.

She nods, blinking back tears. "It is. But... it's who I am. I've learned to live with it, even if some pack members look at me differently."

Her strength in the face of adversity is inspiring. "You're amazing, you know that?" I tell her. "And we're going to get out of here together, I promise."

Chloe gives me a watery smile. "Thanks, Zoe. I'm glad I'm not alone in this."

As time passes, my restlessness grows. The thought of sitting here, waiting to be rescued, grates against every independent fiber of my being. I stand up abruptly, startling Chloe.

"We need to try again," I say, determination flooding through me. "There has to be a way out of here."

Chloe looks uncertain but nods, getting to her feet. "Okay. What's the plan?"

I scan the room again, my mind racing. "The door. We haven't really examined the hinges or the lock mechanism. Maybe there's something we missed."

We move to the door, running our fingers along every inch of metal. The hinges seem solid, but as I trace the outline of the lock, I feel a slight give.

"Chloe," I whisper excitedly, "I think the screws holding the lock in place might be loose. If we had something to use as a screwdriver..."

She looks around frantically, then her eyes light up. "The table! The screws on the legs—maybe we can get one out and use it?"

It's a long shot, but it's the best idea we have. We move to the table, trying to be as quiet as possible as we work on loosening one of the screws. It's slow, painstaking work, our fingers becoming raw and bloodied as we struggle with the stubborn metal.

Just as we manage to work the screw free, we hear it—the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from above.

Panic floods through me. We're out of time.