Chapter 7 - Liz

”David, honey,” Leah starts, running her eyes over me, ”why don”t you chat with Fisher while I get this poor girl some decent clothes?” She turns to her brother. “Goodness, what did you do, catch her in the wild or something?”

”No,” Fisher says in a hurry, and I sense a lot of information is passing through the glare he throws at David. Fisher turns back to me. ”Should I worry you might pull a runner on me?”

I give him a mock smile. ”Why would I even bother? Apparently, I”m a sitting target wherever I go. Might as well go put some clothes on.”

David narrows his eyes at me and Fisher in turn. ”Not the usual circumstances of getting hitched, are they?”

“Can”t say it is,” Fisher says. “Now stop looking at me like I”ve got two heads and offer me a beer, would you? I need one if I”m going to tell this story.”

”It”s ten in the morning,” Leah chastises her brother. ”Oh, forget it. You”re going to have one, anyway. Come on, Elizabeth.”

She loops her arm around mine, and I can”t say why exactly, but there”s something about her that soothes my inner wolf, that puts me at ease. Still, I”m not ready to trust anyone but myself, not after everything I”ve been through. So, despite her warmth, I keep a tight rein on my emotions.

“You”ll feel better once you”ve eaten and taken a shower,” Leah says.

I let her lead me into her bedroom, and even though the rational part of my brain is suspicious, I”m too exhausted to protest. She rummages through her closet for a few minutes before returning with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

”Here, these should fit you,” she says, handing me a fresh T-shirt and a pair of jeans. ”I”m a few sizes bigger than you, but these are from my thinner days.”

I stare at her, unsure of how to react. After weeks of rough treatment at the hands of my captors, the simple act of kindness is overwhelming. Swallowing hard, I reach out and accept the clothing.

”Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. I haven”t allowed myself to cry since I was taken, and the walls are quickly crumbling.

Leah seems to sense my impending meltdown, and she has the decency to gesture to the bathroom. ”Go ahead and take a hot shower. Towels are in the closet.”

I thank her again and duck into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind me. Finally alone, I allow myself a moment to break down, tears streaming down my face as I strip out of my dirty clothes and turn on the water.

I step beneath the hot spray and try to collect my thoughts. I”ve been keeping my emotions bottled up for weeks, refusing to give in to the fear and hopelessness that threaten to consume me. But now, as the weight of my situation finally hits me in this rare moment of safety and peace, I can”t hold back any longer.

So, I let it all go—the rage, the frustration, the pain. I weep for the life I lost, the family I”ll never have, and the future I”ve been denied.

But most of all, I mourn for the broken parts of myself, the parts that the men who touched and beat me tried to shatter beyond repair. My body bears the scars of their cruelty, but I”ll be damned if I”ll let them claim my spirit.

Standing beneath the scalding jets, I wash away their filth, scrubbing my skin until it”s raw and tender. Then, I rest my head against the cool tile and let the water carry my tears away, letting the cleansing of mind and body begin.

When I emerge from the shower, I feel strangely numb, like I”m observing myself from a great distance. The clothes Leah lent me are a little big, but comfortable and clean. And, most importantly, not torn or stained. Then, I turn and face my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are pale, and the dark circles under my eyes make them look enormous. I smooth back my wet hair and take a deep breath. Okay. I can do this.

Bracing myself for the awkward conversation that”s bound to ensue, I return to the main area of the house and follow the sound of clattering cookware. When I enter the kitchen, neither Fisher nor David are anywhere to be seen, but Leah is frying some bacon and sipping on a cup of coffee.

”Feeling better?” she asks me, her tone warm and genuine.

”A little,” I admit, surprising myself. In the short time we”ve known each other, Leah”s struck a chord with me, her kindness melting away some of my defenses. Maybe, just maybe, I can trust her.

”I”m glad.” Leah beams. She pours a second cup of coffee, hands it to me, and points to the sugar and creamer sitting on the counter. ”Help yourself. How do you like your eggs?”

”You really don”t have to─”

”Scrambled? Sunny side up? I can even make you eggs in a basket, if you”d like.”

”Doesn”t matter,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. ”I can eat them any way you cook them.”

She chuckles. ”All right, then. Scrambled it is.” Turning back to the stove, she cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl and whisks them with a fork before pouring the mixture into a sizzling pan. As she works the spatula, she glances over at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

I feel my body tense, bracing for an interrogation. Instead, Leah hesitates and picks up her mug, cradling it in her hands. ”Look,” she finally says, her voice soft and sincere, ”I know you have no reason to trust me, but I just want you to know that you”re safe here, okay? I promise you, no one”s going to hurt you. I only got the short version of what”s going on, but whatever those men did to you, you”re free of them.”

The unexpected reassurance is too much, and I feel a lump form in my throat. ”Thank you,” I choke out, my eyes stinging with tears. ”That... means a lot.”

Leah nods. ”I know how it feels to be broken and afraid, to think that your whole world”s fallen apart. But I promise you that no matter what, now that you”re part of our pack, we”ll protect you.”

A solitary tear spills down my cheek, and I hastily wipe it away, embarrassed at the show of emotion. ”I can”t shift,” I confess. ”What good am I to your pack if I can”t shift?”

Leah sets the pan aside and turns to face me, her expression serious. ”We”ll figure it out, I swear,” she assures me. ”Whatever”s happened, we”ll fix it.”

Her words are enough to shatter my fragile composure, and I lurch forward, throwing my arms around her and burying my face in her shoulder. Fresh tears slide down my cheeks, and my body shakes with silent sobs as all the emotions I”ve been holding back rush forth.

”I”ve got you,” Leah murmurs, stroking my back comfortingly. ”It”s okay, let it out.”

For the first time in months, I allow myself to be vulnerable. To simply fall apart and let someone else carry the burden, even just for a few minutes. It”s cathartic, and I draw a ragged breath, trying to collect myself.

”S-sorry,” I hiccup.

”Nothing to apologize for,” Leah replies, pulling back and gripping my shoulders. ”You”re not alone. Not anymore.”

It”s a pledge, a solemn vow that warms my battered soul and coaxes a weak smile from me.

”I”m just sorry it took getting saddled with my brother to get you out of there,” she says with a smirk. ”He”s not quite husband material. At least not that I”m aware of.”

But she says it in a loving tone that doesn”t come close to matching her words, and I burst out laughing. “Obviously, I don”t know him well,” I say. “But I”m sure a guy like him has his pick of the pack.”

Leah dumps the freshly scrambled eggs onto a plate and hands it to me. ”Maybe, but I”ve never actually seen him serious with a girl before. This should be interesting.”

Curiosity piqued, I look up from my plate. ”Really? Why do you think that is? Is he one of those guys afraid of commitment?”

Leah leans against the counter, tapping her chin thoughtfully. ”Not exactly. Fisher”s always been a cynic when it comes to love. He”s seen so many relationships fail, and I think he tends to focus on the bad rather than the good. It”s like he”s used those cases with bad endings as an excuse not to even try.”

”So, he”s not afraid of commitment,” I clarify, feeling a glimmer of understanding dawn within me. ”He”s just...protecting himself.”

Leah nods, her eyes softening with empathy. ”Exactly. And maybe, just maybe, you”ll be the one to change his mind. We shall see.”

”Am I even his type?” I ask as I grab a fork and shovel a load of scrambled eggs into my mouth. ”Mmm. That”s so good!”

Leah shrugs as she comes around and sits next to me. ”I”m not exactly sure what my brother”s type is, but you”re stunning. If anyone is his type, then I bet it”s you. You”re going to have to be patient with him, though. He”s always lived alone. This is going to be an adjustment for him.”

”Fair enough. That’s something I can relate to. I’ve been on my own, too.” I take a sip of coffee and, eager to change the subject, ask, ”What”s this town like? I”ve never been here before.”

”Stardust Hollow”s a small town. Quiet, peaceful, just the way we like it.” She studies me for a moment before going on. ”Most of the residents are shifters, though we”ve got a handful of humans, too. It”s a safe place. A good home for those of us who live here.”

”It looks a lot like the town I came from,” I tell her. ”Minus the human population. There weren”t many shifters there.”

Leah frowns. ”You”re a lone wolf, then?”

”You could say that,” I say, chuckling. ”I never had a pack. I lived alone, for the most part.”

”Well, you”ve got a pack now,” she says, and I detect a hint of sadness in her voice. ”Even though it was against your will, and I”m sorry about that.”

I give her a wan smile. ”Yeah. I didn”t even see it coming. I”ve always tried to keep a low profile, always worked hard, avoided all the issues, tried not to interfere with anyone. Kept to myself as much as possible.”

”Life really has a way of messing with you, doesn”t it?” Leah concedes.

I nod slowly. ”I”m used to being on my own, to taking care of myself. But now...” I trail off, looking at her helplessly.

She reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. ”Now you have a pack,” she says gently. ”And a home. Fisher has a nice, cozy house, we can help you find some work, and you can be happy here. You”re not alone anymore. For better or worse.”

It”s an attempt to cheer me up, but her comment only reminds me that I”m in this for life, whether I want to be or not. Sure, Fisher seems like a nice guy, but I barely know him. How can I expect him to take on my burdens, to shoulder the weight of a lifetime together? It”s not fair to him, and it”s not fair to me.

”Do you think he”ll just give me to another guy?” I can”t help the tremor in my voice. A life of submitting to whatever wolf chooses me—and however he chooses me, even though I already picked one—isn”t a future I want. The whole thing is weird and unbalanced.

As if sensing my thoughts, Leah squeezes my shoulder. ”Don”t worry, we”ll take good care of you,” she says, her tone sympathetic. ”And I”m sure Fisher will make a good mate in time. Fisher doesn”t give up easily. He”s used to hard work. And take it from me, marriage is hard work.”

Leah”s words linger in the air, heavy with promises of safety and security, but they offer little comfort to the turmoil swirling inside me. As I pick at my breakfast, my mind races with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Running away again seems like the only viable option, a desperate bid for freedom in a world that feels increasingly claustrophobic. But Fisher”s warnings echo in my mind, reminding me of the dangers lurking beyond these walls. Without my wolf, I”d be defenseless, easy prey for the traders or any other predator that crosses my path.

My mind wanders to the fates of other women like me, the other shifters who were auctioned off before and after I was. Is some brute abusing them every night, sneering and snarling at them during the day, calling them horrible things that sink into their skin like acid? Or are they dead somewhere, discarded like unwanted trash when their owners grew tired of them? Or broke them?

The thought is sobering, forcing a realization. As desperate and out of options as I am, I”m lucky. I”m alive. I”m not shackled. I”m not enduring unspeakable torture. I have a shelter and a potential protector, something more than the majority of the enslaved girls can claim. Those seem like things to cling to in the face of the unknown.

Is it crazy that I feel like giving in, even though I”m making the best choices I can? Everything is just so fucked up and wrong that I don”t know how to process it.

I turn my attention back to Leah, forcing a smile and a nod. She means well, I”m sure of it, but I”ve been burned too many times to let my guard down so easily.

”What”d you do before you came here?” she questions. ”For work, I mean.”

”I was a waitress,” I tell her. ”Tended bar sometimes.”

”Oh, that”s perfect. The pack owns a bar in town. They”re always looking for help. Maybe you could start out there?”

”That”d be great,” I reply. It”ll be better to earn my keep than to hang around Fisher”s house without contributing.

A few moments of awkward silence pass before she continues her probing. ”So, Liz,” Leah tries again, ”what do you like to do for fun? Any hobbies?”

”Not much of a hobbyist, I”m afraid. I”ve pretty much spent my time trying to survive.”

Leah”s smile falters, replaced by a look of concern. ”I can understand that, given everything you”ve been through. But surely there must be something you enjoy? Reading, maybe? Or hiking?”

I shake my head, my grip on my fork tightening. ”Not really. Like I said, just trying to survive.”

Leah”s expression softens. ”I”m sorry, Liz. I didn”t mean to pry. I just want to get to know you better, that”s all. You”re my sister-in-law now, after all.”

I force a tight smile as my throat constricts. How can I make her understand that I don”t want to be here, that every moment spent in this house feels like a prison sentence? But I bite back the words, burying them beneath a fa?ade of indifference. I can”t risk alienating Leah, not when she”s the closest thing to an ally I have in this strange new world.

”I appreciate the sentiment,” I reply, my voice carefully neutral. ”But can we save the getting-to-know-you phase for another time, maybe?”

Leah nods, though her expression is tinged with disappointment. ”Of course. Take all the time you need.”

With a heavy heart, I push my plate away and rise from the table. I glance toward the door, contemplating once again the possibility of escape, but the harsh reality of my vulnerability stops me cold. I have to remind myself that without my wolf, I”d be an easy target. My life would be in constant danger from the traders who see me as nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold.

I may be trapped in this place for now, forced to play the role of dutiful wife to a man I barely know, but I”ll find a way out of this mess, one way or another. And when I do, I”ll be ready to face whatever comes my way. This may not be the life I envisioned for myself, but it”s the hand I”ve been dealt, and I”ll be damned if I let anyone else dictate my fate.