Chapter 3 Escape Plans

[Nyx]

Hot water cascaded down my body, but couldn't wash away the storm brewing inside me. I pressed my forehead against the cold shower tiles, letting the contrast between the scalding water and the icy ceramic ground me in reality. Steam enveloped me like a shroud, muffling my choked sobs.

"I'm just a goddamn chess piece," I whispered, watching water spiral down the drain like my hopes for freedom. "No choices, no agency, just a pawn to be moved wherever they please."

You abandoned yourself first, Sylva's voice cut through my self-pity. Drinking yourself numb every night, squandering your talents, wallowing in misery. Of course they don't give you any power.

"You know damn well why I'm like this," I hissed, tears mixing with shower water on my face.

I remember when you were different, Sylva's tone softened. At the Academy, you outperformed everyone. Top marks, strongest fighter, natural leader. Until that day when you were sixteen...

"Stop," I cut her off, the familiar pain lancing through me. "We had no better options then. You know that."

A flash of memories threatened to surface—blood, screams, accusations—but I shoved them back into the dark corners of my mind where I kept all my failures.

I know, Sylva conceded, her voice gentle now. But we'll survive this too. We always do.

I shut off the water with more force than necessary, wrapping myself in a towel as cold air rushed in. My reflection in the fogged mirror looked like a ghost—hollow-eyed, pale, with none of the fire that once made instructors predict I'd be the youngest female Alpha candidate in pack history.

That girl was long gone.

Three sharp knocks at my front door pulled me from my thoughts. I cursed, hastily throwing on a bathrobe. Probably Ariel bringing dinner.

Instead, I found Oliver Reed standing in my doorway, bottle of whiskey in one hand, concern etched across his familiar features. His scent—books, coffee, and that uniquely comforting smell that was just Oliver—wrapped around me like an old blanket.

"News travels fast," I said with a bitter smile, stepping aside to let him in.

"When even I hear about the Alpha's daughter being forced into marriage, you know it's big news." He shrugged, his eyes scanning my face. "Figured you might need company."

I led him into my living room, littered with empty bottles and discarded clothes from previous nights of trying to numb my existence. If he noticed the mess, he didn't comment.

"I'm the family embarrassment," I said, dropping onto my couch. "Now they think they need a warrior to 'tame' me."

Oliver handed me the bottle. I twisted it open and took a swig, the burn down my throat a welcome distraction.

"'Lysander is an exemplary warrior. He'll make you useful again,'" I mimicked my father's deep voice, adding a mocking formality. "Like I'm some circus lion that needs breaking."

Anger clawed up my throat, sharp and acidic. "If it weren't for what happened at the Academy, I'd probably be running half the company by now instead of drinking myself into oblivion every night."

Oliver took the bottle from my hands, pouring some into two glasses he'd retrieved from my kitchen. "What's your plan? Continue being the wild child Nyx Verdant?"

I stared at the amber liquid, watching it catch the light. "I think I'll just keep spending the family money until I get tired enough to kill myself with silver."

"Nyx!" The glass slammed onto the coffee table as Oliver's eyes widened with horror. "How can you say something like that?"

The raw fear in his voice made me flinch. I looked away, unable to bear the concern in his eyes. He'd always been too good for me, too kind.

We migrated to the large bay window in my living room, where moonlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling glass, painting silver highlights on the wet strands of my hair. From the top floor of the Verdant mansion, the view stretched across our sprawling territory. Oliver stood close, his warmth radiating beside me.

"Remember during finals week, when you had that breakdown?" he asked, his voice half-teasing. "You were sure you'd fail tactics, and I stayed up all night helping you study. Now it's my turn to tell you to hang on again."

His fingers hesitantly brushed my shoulder before quickly withdrawing, as though afraid he'd oversteeped. We'd always been physically comfortable with each other, but something felt different tonight.

"If this becomes unbearable," he said, voice dropping to a near whisper, "I'll help you. Whatever it takes."

I looked at him, truly looked at him perhaps for the first time in years. Oliver had been my constant since childhood—the one person who saw me at my worst and still showed up with whiskey and that crooked smile.

"You've always been my best friend," I said softly. "Since we were kids."

Something flickered in his eyes—determination, fear, longing—as he took a deep breath. He set down his glass, fingers nervously tracing its rim.

"Nyx, there's... there's something I've wanted to tell you for years," he said, his voice unsteady but his gaze direct. "I can't hold it in anymore."

The intensity in his eyes made my stomach tighten.

"We could leave," he continued, words tumbling out faster now. "Run away together. I have savings. I could take care of you."

I froze, confusion clouding my thoughts. "Oliver? What are you saying?" My voice came out barely audible.

"I love you, Nyx," he confessed, the words hanging heavy in the air between us. "I've loved you since we were thirteen. Every laugh, every quirk, even your flaws—I love all of it. I've been waiting for the right moment, but now they're marrying you off to someone else..."