Shackled

Chapter Twenty

The time had come. She had spent the last two days with Mason and her little ragtag group of packmates, spending time together exploring pack lands and finishing the days with comfortable dinners, the feeling of family clear in the air. Since his first night in her room, Elijah had become a permanent fixture at their little house on pack grounds, spending each night with her, both in her thoughts and in her bed.

Nothing had happened, nothing except the sweet wandering hands that now took their time as they explored her skin, a mesmerizing ritual they fell into before letting themselves go every night at the sweet pull of sleep. He eased her worried mind, for there was no denying the tight knots that swirled their way through her stomach, clenching at the thought of what she was about to do.

But now the day was here, two days had never slipped by so quickly. She had never tried to grip onto time so firmly, but here now she stood. On the porch steps she breathed in the early morning air, waiting as Elijah slipped on his boots behind her. Mason slept soundly in the house, bundled in his warm comforter, a hoodie of Elijah's bundled tight in his arms. She had snuck a peak into his room before she left, her heart reassured by the sight of his sweet innocent face, and her mate's sweatshirt clasped in his little arms.

He knew nothing of what she was preparing herself to do, nothing of the potential danger she was about to face, and that was how she wanted it. It had been a long discussion between Eli and herself, whether to tell him or not, and she had made her decision. She didn't want to corrupt his brain, didn't want to wear away that rose coloured finish that filtered his view of the world, at least not yet. There was plenty of time for the horrors of the modern world to tarnish him later, plenty of time for his hopeful worldview to crumble, for now she would allow him the privilege of childhood.

Elijah joined her on the porch, his sturdy work boots contrasting nicely to the white of her well-worn sneakers, "You ready?" his voice was steady, firm, her rock.

"As ready as I'll ever be, now let's get this show on the road." Her feet descended the steps, her chin high and proud, her back filled with the unbreakable steel that had got her this far in life.

You're an Alpha.

The words circled cyclically in her brain with every step.

You fear nothing.

With each stride she could feel the proximity to the holding cell entrance weigh down on her shoulders.

You are a predator in a world of prey.

She was going for a motivational pep talk, though its effectiveness was questionable. But there was no stopping now, not when she felt Elijah take two strides ahead, his arm reaching out to pull open the cellar door, revealing rickety steps down into the dark underground. The patrol wolves guarding the entrance door gave their Alpha a firm nod, looking her way with barely concealed intrigue. They did not know what their alpha female was there for, they did not know what awaited her at the base of the steps, in the darkness below.

They descended in silence; the sound of their steps was all there was to be heard. Time stretched onwards and into infinity as her breaths evened out and a calmness took over. Less a feeling of confidence than it was an acceptance of whatever was to come. There was no turning back and if she was honest, she wouldn't have even if the opportunity presented itself. She felt a sense of rightness in her bones, a lifting of the exhaustion that weighed itself so heavily on her shoulders. Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same, and in a sense that relieved her. Too long had her life been one long and stale note, at least now there would be a crescendo, or alternatively, a steep dip down.