Mated to One, Wanted by Two

CHAPTER 3

Mom seemed remarkably calm despite the chaos around us. She gripped the steering wheel with determination, navigating the highway as if it were just another day. The wind whipped through the open windows, her hair billowing, while the tires screeched against the asphalt.

“Get the bag. Just in case,” she instructed, her voice steady and resolute.

I nodded, heart racing, and turned to the backseat. With a quick motion, I reached for the worn duffle bag, its fabric frayed at the edges from countless journeys. I pulled it onto my lap, feeling the weight of its contents.

I pried open the heavy bag to reveal a chaotic array of weaponry—gleaming firearms, a quiver of silver-tipped arrows, and menacing brass knuckles that glinted in the dim light. My attention landed on a sleek handgun, its frame promising power. I flicked the magazine free, the metallic click echoing in the tense silence as I checked the chamber. Silver bullets shone ominously against the gunmetal. Knowing their danger to both my pursuers and myself, I loaded the magazine back into the handgun, making sure it was ready for action.

“Are you alright?” Mom asked, her voice laced with concern as she peered over at me, her brow furrowed under the dim light of the car.

“How can I be? We’ve just left everything I was finally starting to feel comfortable with, and now we’re headed to some unknown destination,” I replied, my voice trembling with a mix of anxiety and frustration.

“ We always knew this day would come,Jackson never lets anyone leave his pack without consequences. But trust me. I would never drag you back into that nightmare just to face bullying for mistakes I made,” she assured me, her eyes softening.

“I know you’ve done everything for me,” I sighed, But how long can we keep running? It’s been three years, and he clearly hasn’t given up. I thought he’d have moved on by now.”

Mom's gaze turned sympathetic, guilt etched on her face. She often blamed herself for everything I endured. If only she had found the courage to leave when I was a baby, maybe things would have been different. But those were just speculations. At only sixteen, she was thrust into this relentless chase. Jackson’s determination to reclaim us felt unyielding, and the thought of living this life forever filled me with despair.

“Mom,” I said, finding my resolve. “I can’t keep running. We need to lose him or make him stop.”

“It would take something drastic,”she replied seriously, fire igniting in her eyes. "I’m ready for that.”

“For now, let’s focus on tonight,” she said, bringing a sense of practicality. I nodded, feeling the tension ease a bit.As I glanced out the window, the scenery whirled by in a blur, but then something caught my eye — a road sign that jolted me back to reality and sent a chill down my spine. I suddenly realized where we were headed.

“Mom, no. You can’t be serious,” I exclaimed, panic rising in my throat.

“Ivy…” Mom began, her voice tentative.

“No! You promised we would never belong to another pack. Please, don’t take us there. We can’t!”

“This pack will be different, I swear. This will definitely be different.”

“You can’t promise me that. It’s just another pack. Another tyrant ruling over everyone,” I argued, feeling a mixture of fear and rebellion stir inside me. “I can’t stand being trapped. You know that.”

“Sweetie, I know that you’ve been through hell in Jackson’s pack. That’s why we ran away,” she said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she recalled our painful past. “But this place will be different. I promise.”

I was utterly bewildered. She had crafted a secret plan for Shreveport that she never shared with me, likely to avoid my protests about joining another pack. Why the secrecy?

As I pondered, I looked outside and froze. Shadows flitted among the trees—dozens of wolves emerged, their forms haunting, evoking primal fear. They suddenly stopped as we drove along the moonless highway, eyes fixed on our car like hawks. Without hesitation, they began to trail us, weaving through the landscape toward the pack.

Heart pounding, I gripped the cool metal of the gun tightly, ready to defend ourselves if the need arose. But before I could voice my concerns, my mother’s hand clamped around my arm, steadying me with a firm grip.

“They’re giving us an escort back to the pack. Those wolves are on our side,” she said, her voice calm yet urgent.

I turned to steal a glance at her, but her gaze remained fixed on the winding road ahead, an expression of determination etched across her features.

“I guess there goes all the honesty that we agreed to have with each other,” I muttered, my voice barely more than a whisper as I stared out the side window, the scenery blurring past in a rush of greens and browns. I couldn't bear to meet her eyes right now; a storm was brewing in my chest, and I was unsure how to calm it.

Throughout our lives, we had made these decisions together, a synchronized dance of trust and understanding. Yet now, it felt as if an invisible wall had risen between us, and she was deaf to my pleas. I couldn't fathom what had shifted within her.

As we entered the pack's territory, I noticed wolves in pursuit, their graceful forms embodying strength. A few lingered at the border, watchful eyes scanning the woods for any sign of danger. Their presence provided a mix of comfort and tension, a silent promise of protection amid the uncertainty.

Mom navigated through the crowd with confidence, it was clear she was familiar with this place. As we arrived at a stunning two-story house, its sleek design contrasted sharply with our old home in Shreveport. Stepping out of the car, my heartbeat quickened as I gripped the cold metal of the gun, reminding me of the danger that lay ahead.

“Whose house is this?” I asked, my confusion thickening like the mist swirling around the towering trees outside.

“It’s ours,” she replied casually, her tone nonchalant, yet the weight of her words left me even more bewildered. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the house itself. It stood majestically, nestled amid lush greenery, with towering trees sheltering it from prying eyes. The nearest neighbor seemed like a distant memory, a fading echo down the winding road that stretched into the horizon.