The Exchange

Chapter Four

I burst into the pack house, breathless from running, and started immediately towards the area where my uniform was stored. After (somehow) managing to convince Carter to let me take a stroll on my own, I had sprinted back to the pack house as fast as I could, knowing that the talking I had done had squandered valuable minutes.

Shrugging on the grimy and faded garment, I ran my fingers through my hair several times in an attempt to rid it of knots, unsuccessfully. I hurried out into the main dining room and surveyed the table, ensuring that every dish was in its proper place and each seat had all of the required silverware. Grabbing a box of matches, I light the candles that are placed around the room because, apparently, 'Fire represents power', one of Fletcher's infamous quotes.

Everything was in order. I situated myself in the kitchen with all of the remaining dishes, prepared to take them out and put them in place of the emptied plates. After doing one last check of both rooms, I sigh in relief as I deem them satisfactory. The feeling doesn't last seeing as, at that moment, I hear the door fly open and hit the opposite wall-just another thing I have to repair- and Fletcher's voice fills the empty household.

I hide in the kitchen, busying myself with simple tasks. Emptying the dishwasher, hand drying several pieces of silverware, folding fresh napkins and placing them in the drawer; anything to keep my mind off the voice that haunts my dreams and the terror his prescence brings. Soon enough, I hear the voices and recognize several as members of Jared's pack. Phew, I think. I'm safe.

Suddenly, pain surges through my scalp as a meaty hand latches in my hair and pulls me backwards. My cry of pain is smothered by a matching hand, and I am dragged out of the room. I struggle viciously against my captor, and only when he throws me into one of the spare bedrooms and locks the door do my cries for help fade.

It's Fletcher. No one will save me from him.

He stalks towards me, his eyes blazing with fury. His arms tense and show the hard muscle from consistent training, training that prepares him for moments like these.

When I'm cornered, and he knows no one will come to my aid.

"So, you've managed to bewitch the fool into thinking he's your mate?" He spits out acidly, reaching for my throat and seizing it, lifting me up and pressing me into the wall. He has to tilt his head up to look me in the eye now. "It's a pity you'll never be able to get to know each other."

I gasp for air, his tightening grip robbing my lungs of the oxygen they crave. "Stop...please..."

"Please?" He laughs incredulously. "What, you think the magic word is going to get you out of this?" He squeezes tighter, and I see stars. "You should know better by now."

I really should.

"I actually feel sorry for the guy." He continues. "I mean, he's stuck with you as a mate? How bad can his luck be?"

Just when I think I'm going to pass out, he releases me. I collapse to the floor, heaving in big breaths.

"Pathetic." He sneers. "We will be eating in only a few moments. Be ready to serve your purpose." With a final kick to the gut that releases the air I've only just gotten back, Fletcher exits the room.

I take half a minute to collect myself and make sure the kick didn't pierce my skin and bloody the uniform. Sighing in relief that it hadn't, because that would have started a whole new set of problems, I start back towards the kitchen with my head hanging low. I hear people shuffle past, and by the lack of commentation I assume they're from Fletcher's pack. He usually has them tone down the insults when visitors are around. Guests would have helped, but those in my company merely keep their mouth shut.