Kidnapped Alpha Mate

Chapter 8- Desperate Escape

Em's P.O.V.

I woke up to the bright sunlight smacking me in the face, its warmth cutting through the crisp morning air. The faint smell of stale bed linens lingered, and the room carried a stillness broken only by the distant hum of the heater. My eyes adjusted slowly, the golden light spilling across the small, worn-out furniture.

I stretched, feeling the ache in my shoulders from another restless night, and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The old digital numbers glowed faintly.

6:54 a.m.

Turning over, I spotted Sophia curled up in a tight fetal position, her darkened blonde hair a wild tangle against the pillow, as usual. Her soft breaths were steady, her form unmoving under the thin blanket that barely clung to her frame.

"Soph," I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. Her body remained stubbornly limp. I sighed, a mischievous grin curling my lips. Without hesitation, I pressed one hand over her mouth and pinched her nose shut with the other.

Her reaction was instant—her eyes flew open, wide and panicked, as she inhaled sharply against my grip. I let go just as she gasped, her hands flailing briefly before she sat up, squinting at me through a sleepy glare.

"Really, Em? Did you have to do that?" she croaked, her voice scratchy and laced with irritation. She rubbed her eyes, blinking away the haze of sleep.

I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Come on, let's start tying the sheets so we can get out of here."

The wooden floor creaked under our weight as we hopped off the bed. The air was cool against my skin, carrying a faint metallic tang from the old heater. We stripped the beds of their sheets, the coarse fabric rustling loudly as we worked.

Ten minutes later, the sheets were tied into a makeshift rope, the knots tight and secure. Sophia tugged at them, her fingers grazing the worn cotton to ensure they wouldn't give way. I knelt by the heater, feeling its warm metal surface against my fingertips as I looped the final knot around the sturdy frame.

"Good enough?" I asked, pulling the rope taut.

Sophia nodded, her face set with determination. "Good enough."

"Do you wanna go first, or shall I?" I asked Soph, my voice low but laced with urgency.

"I'll go first," she replied, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her hesitation. She wrapped her hands tightly around the makeshift rope, the knotted sheets creaking faintly under her grip. Her movements were slow and cautious, the fabric brushing against the chipped paint of the window ledge as she climbed.

The air outside was brisk, carrying the earthy scent of damp leaves and distant pine. A soft breeze ruffled her hair as she finally reached the ground, landing with a quiet hop on the packed dirt.

"Okay, now it's your turn!" Sophia called up, her voice rising sharply in the still morning air.

I swallowed hard, gripping the rough sheets as I swung one leg over the ledge. The rope felt firm beneath my palms, the knots digging into my skin as I began my descent. The faint strain of the fabric shifting made my stomach clench, but I forced myself to focus.

Halfway down, the rope jerked violently. My heart slammed against my ribs as I glanced back toward the window. Jackson's face appeared, his hands gripping the rope as he began pulling it up with deliberate tugs.

"Jump, Em! Jump!" Sophia's voice sliced through my panic.

Without hesitation, I released my grip and pushed off the rope. The rush of air stung my skin as I fell. My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, a jarring pain shooting through my ankle.