A Mother’s Lie, A Daughter’s Escape
1207 Words
Samantha moved like a fleeting shadow through the house.
With her mother's advice, gone were her extravagant gowns and jewels. She wore a plain brown cloak, a faded linen dress beneath, and her thick hair was pulled into a tight, unflattering braid. The only thing she couldn’t hide was the fire burning in her eyes.
“Remember,” her mother whispered at the door, smoothing her cloak like a dutiful servant, “you are nobody there. At least not yet.”
Samantha gave a short nod, then slipped out the back gate and disappeared down the long road toward the Pack's border.
She didn’t look back.
---
Minutes Later…
The front door burst open.
Cedric, Samantha's father footsteps thundered into the house, his presence like a brewing storm. “Where is Samantha?!”
Lady Verena, ever the picture of calm poise, was seated in the lounge with a porcelain cup of tea in her hands, sipping slowly.
She looked up at her fuming mate with a gentle expression. “She’s left.”
“Left? What do you mean ‘left’? Without my permission?!”
Verena set the cup down with a quiet clink, folding her hands on her lap. “She’s gone to stay with her aunt… in the eastern side of the pack.”
Cedric’s face darkened. “And you let her go?! Alone?! Without asking me?!”
She stood now, her face shadowed in feigned concern. “Do you know what your constant confinement has done to her? She’s been falling into a terrible depression, Cedric. You never let her out of this house. She barely eats, she lashes out at the servants. If she stayed any longer, I feared she’d do something… irreversible.”
He frowned, visibly conflicted. His voice dropped a notch. “Why didn’t she speak to me? Why wouldn’t she tell me herself?”
Verena stepped forward, resting a hand on his chest. “Because you scare her,” she said softly. “You love her, I know, but she doesn’t feel that right now. She thinks you’ve given up on her. This time away… it might help her reset. She’ll be surrounded by her cousins, and the pack is peaceful now. What harm could possibly come to her there?”
He stared at her long and hard.
Finally, he let out a weary sigh. “Fine. Let her stay for a while. But I want word from her every two weeks. Understand?”
Verena gave a sweet smile. “Of course.”
Satisfied—for now—Cedric turned and stalked off toward his study, the door slamming shut behind him.
The silence that followed was cold and thick.
Lady Verena remained still for a moment, her back straight, her hands clasped. But slowly, her gentle expression began to slip.
Her lips curved into a cruel, victorious sneer.
“Fool,” she murmured under her breath. “You think I’d let her waste away in this house? No. She’s going to rule.”
She turned toward the mirror by the fireplace, adjusting her earring.
“And I’ll soon be the mother-in-law of the new Alpha of Dam-Nighade Pack. Imagine that…”
Her reflection stared back at her—beautiful, cunning, and merciless.
“Rina won’t know what hit her.”
--
Few Minutes Later...
Dust clung to Samantha’s boots as she staggered toward the Pack's border. The sun blazed high above, and her elegant features were damp with sweat. Still, she kept her chin lifted and her stride confident.
Two patrol guards eyed her warily as she approached. Their hands lingered near their weapons, but when Samantha slowed her pace, gave them a soft, tired smile, and tilted her head just so—both guards shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m just a traveler to the new pack,” she said with a breathy, apologetic voice, brushing back a strand of loose hair.
"What is your name?" The guards asked her.
"Matilda is my name! And my dad is officer Murdock, a high ranking in the pack" She lied. “My cousins were among those taken to the new pack. I just… wanted to pay them a visit.”
She didn’t mention a true name. Didn’t have to. The tight bodice beneath her cloak, the way her lips curved as she spoke, the subtle flutter of her lashes—it all worked like a charm.
After a few whispered words between them, the guards waved her through. She blew them a kiss and walked on.
But once far enough from their line of sight, Samantha’s charming mask slipped. She grimaced, pulling off her cloak. The walk was longer than she’d expected—her delicate feet ached, and the sun showed no mercy.
By mid-afternoon, her limbs trembled with exhaustion. She spotted a massive tree with wide, shady branches and sank beneath it in relief. Her back slid against the trunk. She let her eyes close for a brief moment, thinking of what more lies to tell when she finally gets to Dam-Nighade Pack's border
Then—voices. She heard echoes of voices from afar.
Rough. Male. Multiple.
Her body tensed as she scrambled up the tree for safety, while scanning the trail. Peering around the trees, she saw them: four rugged men leading a group of at least fifteen people. All were bound with ropes, their faces streaked with dirt, eyes downcast. Some limped. Some whimpered.
Samantha’s brow lifted. Slavers.
A wicked grin crept across her face.
“Perfect.”
She scrambled further up the tree just as the voices grew closer, perching like a cat in the thickest part of the foliage. From above, she watched them shuffle forward. The sight triggered an idea so devious, even she was impressed.
“If I enter as a slave… no one will suspect a thing.”
Sliding down the trunk, she acted quickly. She tore the hem of her gown, smeared soil across her cheeks, chest, and legs, and ruffled her hair until it was a nest of tangled knots. Then she lay flat on the path—arms outstretched, lips parted, face slack.
She stilled her breathing.
A few moments later, a sharp voice barked, “Oi! What’s that?”
Two of the slavers approached cautiously, boots crunching twigs.
“She dead?”
One of them knelt beside her and touched her wrist.
“No. Alive. Barely.”
“What do we do with her?” the other asked. “Could be trouble.”
The first one snorted. “She’s small. Pretty. Could fetch a decent price. Toss her in.”
Samantha kept her eyes shut as they hauled her limp body toward the rear of the group. She was shoved into a wooden cart filled with sacks of feed and dried hay—used mostly for transporting food for horses, but now, a perfect hiding place.
The moment they walked off, Samantha’s lips curled into a sly smirk.
“Rina, you stupid little dove,” she whispered to herself. “You may have gotten Theo’s ring… but I’ll have his name.”
As the wagon rattled forward and the slavers resumed their march into Dam-Nighade Pack, Samantha closed her eyes—not to sleep, but to plan.
The game had begun....
- Writer
