Well Beyond

9

Left alone, I take a moment to gather myself, my mind racing. This is my chance. I glance around the room, searching for anything that might help me. 

My eyes land on a familiar black bag. Excitedly, I rush to it, fumbling through it. Everything is still here. I zip it closed carefully. The sound, while soft, sounds deafening. My hands tremble as my heart pounds against my ribcage. I quickly grab my bag and toss it over my shoulder. 

I slip out of the room, the hallway is dimly lit and eerily silent. The voices of Erik and Malcolm grow louder as I approach the main living area. I can hear the tension in their words, the barely contained violence.

"You had no right to come here," Erik growls, his voice a dangerous rumble. "She's my mate, and you still had the gall to come here and attack her while I was gone?" 

Malcolm's reply is sharp and defiant. "You're blinded by her, Erik. She's manipulating you."

I use their loud argument as cover, moving quickly towards the garage door. My heart races with each step, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a thunderclap in my ears. I glance back, seeing the flicker of movement as Erik's silhouette shifts, his body tense with anger.

Steeling myself, I step out into the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest. I glance at the rack of keys hanging on the wall, a small smile forming on my lips. I grab the car keys, their cold metal a reassuring weight in my hand.

As I reach the door, I pause, my hand hovering over the handle. The urge to run is overwhelming, but a small part of me hesitates. Despite everything, a part of me is drawn to Erik, the bond we share pulling at my heart.

But I can't stay. Not here, not under these conditions. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. I twist the handle and pull the door open, the cool air from the garage rushing in and enveloping me. I reach around to lock the door behind me. 

From the other room, I hear the sound of furniture crashing, followed by the unmistakable growls and snaps of a heated argument. The rabid noise ripples through the house, setting my nerves on edge. I dart into the garage, closing the door gently behind me.

The automatic lights of the garage flicker on, revealing Erik's black sports car. I can't help but smirk at the sight. I used to dream of driving something like this. I open the door, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I glance down at the manual transmission. Memories of my dad teaching me to drive a stick shift flood back. He was so determined that I learn it, insisting my first car be a manual. I silently thank him as I wiggle the gear knob to ensure the car is in neutral.

Looking up at the visor, I spot a garage door opener clipped to it and breathe a sigh of relief. Luck is really on my side today. I hit the button, and the garage door rattles open. Pressing the brake and clutch, I twist the key in the ignition. The car roars to life with a powerful growl.

I yank the transmission into reverse, my hand grabbing the headrest of the passenger seat as I twist to look out the back window. As soon as the door is open enough for the car to clear, I back out quickly. I whip the car around and shift into first gear, alternately releasing the clutch and pressing down on the accelerator, refusing to let the engine stall. The car surges forward, racing away from the pack house and away from Erik.

Approaching the gate to the pack lands, my palms sweat against the steering wheel. A guard steps out of the booth, scrutinizing the car. He squints, trying to see through the tinted windows. Then, recognition seems to dawn.

"It's Alpha Arison, let him through," his voice carries out.

I release a breath of relief, my grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly as the gates begin to open. I press the accelerator gently, the car gliding forward through the opening. The guards give a respectful nod, none the wiser to who is actually behind the wheel.