LILA POV
I read the note again and again, my hands trembling as the words burned into my mind.
"There's nowhere you can hide, Lila… I'll always find you. You can run, you can disappear into the darkness, but you're mine. You've always been mine."
It was real. Every word. Every threat. After seven years, I thought I'd escaped. I thought I was free. But this was just the beginning of hell-Alpha Rafael's hell.
You know how he used to say he'd make me pay? That there'd be no running, no hiding? Well, he wasn't lying. I've been paying those dues ever since.
Seven years ago, I ran. I left the pack, left him, left everything I knew behind. I went to the human world, stayed with a college friend, Ava. She gave me a place to hide, even helped me shield myself from him. But it didn't matter. No matter how far I went, how quiet I stayed, how much I begged the moon goddess for freedom, it wasn't enough.
I spent those first two years indoors, scared out of my mind. Scared of Alpha Rafael finding me. Scared he'd kill my son-our son.
But Ava… she had her limits. She couldn't keep footing the bills for the both of us forever. My son, Derrick and I. And I understood. I hated it, but I understood. I knew I had to pick up a job, to step out of hiding. To camouflage myself.
So, I dyed my hair green. Changed my eye color. Wore thick glasses I didn't even need. I thought it was enough. I thought I'd be safe. But the second I stepped outside, he knew. Somehow, he always knew.
At first, it was the notes. The chocolates. Then the gifts. And worst of all, the tattoos. Waking up with strange markings on my skin, symbols I didn't understand. I didn't have to ask to know they were from him.
After that, I gave up my son. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but I had no choice. Ava became Derrick's mother, and I became… nothing. Just Aunt Lila. The woman who carried him for nine months, who felt his first kicks, who pushed him into this world, but now had to watch him call someone else Mommy.
Five years. Five years of silent torture. Five years of waking up to find his notes beside me on the bed. Five years of pretending I wasn't scared out of my mind every second of every day.
Ava kept telling me to see a therapist, and eventually, I gave in. But human therapists don't understand people like me. They don't understand wolves. She may have her fancy degree, but maybe for once, I should fucking believe in those degree.
"Lila," Mrs. Eloise said, her voice soft and soothing. "You're projecting your fears. The notes aren't real. You wrote them in your sleep. The chocolates? You bought them yourself and forgot."
I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to throw something. How could she be so blind? How could she think I was doing this to myself? But at the same time… I needed to believe her. I needed to hold onto those words, to let them soothe me. I needed to believe that Rafael wasn't watching me, that I was just losing my mind.
But then there was Cole.
Two years ago, he started flirting with me. I tried to ignore him, but he was persistent. Sweet. Funny. For a moment, I thought maybe… maybe I could have something normal.
Then the note came. A warning to stay away from Cole. A threat I tried to ignore because I was still clinging to Mrs. Eloise's words. "It's not real, Lila. You're imagining it."
But the same day Cole kissed me, the same day he told me he wanted more, he died. I'll never forget the sight of his bloodied body. And the note I found in my mailbox the next morning:
"This is what happens when you disobey me."
I didn't tell Ava. I didn't tell Mrs. Eloise. I buried it all, shoved it deep down, and tried to pretend it didn't happen. But it did. And now I live every day knowing he's there, watching me, controlling me, punishing me.
I can't eat without wondering if he's poisoned my food. I can't sleep without fearing I'll wake up with another tattoo. I can't breathe.
Some days, I wish I were dead. The suicidal thoughts come often, whispering promises of peace. But then I think of Derrick. My sweet, innocent boy. He's my only anchor, the only reason I keep going.
That's why, when Ava called me at work that day, I froze.
"Derrick's sick," she said, her voice shaking. "He's been vomiting nonstop. I had to rush him to the hospital."
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.
Derrick. My son. My only hope.
I dropped everything and ran. I don't even remember how I got to the hospital. The world was a blur of panic and fear.
When I finally saw him, hooked up to machines, pale and weak, I broke. He looked so small, so fragile. I wanted to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay, but I couldn't. Because I wasn't sure it would be.
Ava sat beside him, her face pale, her hands clutching his. "The doctors don't know what's wrong," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Fuck this. Of all times, of all fucking. Still when I'm still battling with my insecurities, I'll still have to worry about my son?
My gaze went back to Ava, being Derrick fake mom was really making her turn to a real mother.
"We need to raise money for his surgery. I really don't know how we'll get it."
I stood there, staring at my son, I realized something.
I couldn't keep living like this. I couldn't keep running, hiding, pretending I wasn't terrified. I had to fight back. For Derrick. For myself.
Because if I didn't… Rafael would destroy everything I had left.