Chapter 10 Ava: Freedom

I make it two days before I give up and call Lisa, ten minutes before her shift. She doesn't answer the first time, so I call again. This time, she picks up, and her annoyed voice brings tears to my eyes.

"Hello?" that wonderful voice snaps into my ear, suspicious and guarded. She thinks I'm a robocaller.

"Hey, Lise." Somehow, I manage to sound normal.

"Ava? This isn't your number. Did you lose your phone?"

I pick at the inseam of my jeans, staring out the train window, focusing on the rolling hills beyond the raindrops splattered against my window. I've switched trains a few times and bought multiple tickets at each station, just in case someone figures out how I left the city. In the end, I've managed to take an odd, loopy route that has me now in Washington. "Yeah.

Look, if anyone from my family tries to contact you… Um. God, this is going to be a lot that I can't explain before your shift starts, but the main thing is that if my family contacts you, tell them you don't know anything. Save this number under a random name. Call me Ashley or something."

"Okay."

Her instant acceptance warms my heart. My nose tingles as a few tears escape, sliding down my cheeks. It's enough to take the edge off that pain in my chest that refuses to leave, as though something important is missing.

It has to just be in my head, though, right…? If he was my fated mate, he would have never looked at me the way he did. I've never heard of a fated who hates their mate. Even the abusive ones.

I know he is. It's a knowledge deep in my bones.

going to let me go that easy." Or maybe they'll just be happy to get rid of me. That would be nice. I wait for her response, but there

up my

I can't believe you ran away. I want to say congratulations,

Two?"

bite my lip.

"Never?!"

the first thing is the most important. I'm not human, Lise. Not exactly, anyway. My entire family, we're shifters. I'm from the Blackwood Pack, and my dad is

aren't they? The ones that rule over the entire area?" Her voice

distress shuddering down my back. What if she doesn't want to talk to me anymore? I know I had pre-mourned

to talk to. Someone who

strangled half-laugh sounds from my phone. "Girl, I don't care about that. I'm just… processing. Holy shit. The Blackwoods. No wonder you said you'd never be able

"Mmhmm."

And not answered my texts in days, by

resemble a turtle. "I know. I'm sorry. I ditched

Look, Ave. I'll save your number, and we are going to talk, okay? Should I get a different phone

I know they control the police and

"I have no idea. Oh, God. I hope they can't. I got a burner. Maybe you can,

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