After My Alpha Locked Me Away for Five Years

The Silver Moon Pack house was a sprawling estate of glass and warm cedar, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. But as Franklin led me down the wide, carpeted hallway to the second floor, my chest began to tighten.

Old habits died hard. The closer we got to a closed door, the harder it was to breathe. My lungs remembered the damp, suffocating air of Hayes’s basement.

Franklin stopped in front of a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. He must have heard my heartbeat spiking, because he didn't reach for the handle. Instead, he stepped back and gently took my trembling hand, guiding my fingers over the smooth wood of the doorframe.

"Look at it, Paisy," he murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in the quiet hall.

I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. There was no keyhole. No heavy iron latch on the outside.

Franklin pushed the door open, revealing a massive, airy suite bathed in silver moonlight. He pointed to the thick brass deadbolt on the inside of the door. "There are no locks on the outside. Only the inside. You are the only one who decides who comes in."

I stepped into the room, my legs feeling like jelly. The breeze caught my attention. I looked across the room to see wide French doors thrown open to a sprawling balcony. Beyond the stone railing, a sweeping staircase led directly down into the moonlit gardens.

"Open access," Franklin said softly, standing in the doorway, refusing to cross the threshold until I invited him. "You can walk right out into the trees whenever you want. You will never be caged again. I promise you."

A choked sob tore from my throat. I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, and wrapped my arms around myself as the reality of my freedom finally sank in.

***

I fell asleep in a bed softer than a cloud, but the Moon Goddess wasn't done with me.

Even severed, a fated mate bond leaves a phantom limb. At dawn, that phantom limb caught fire. I gasped, bolting upright in bed as a violent shockwave ripped through my skull. It wasn't my pain. It was an echo—a dying transmission from the bond I had crushed.

Through the fading tether, I felt him.

Back at Stoneclaw, Hayes was waking up. A sickening wave of nausea rolled through my stomach as I sensed his physical illness. His skin was gray and coated in a clammy, cold sweat. Desperate and shivering, he reached his mind blindly down our bond, searching for the spiritual energy he had leeched from me for five years.

Instead of my warm, submissive light, he hit a solid, impenetrable wall. A dead line.

I felt his confusion curdle into feral, blinding panic. The vision flashed behind my eyelids: Hayes storming down the servant stairwell, his chest heaving, throwing open the door to the basement Safe Room.

Empty.

Through the dying bond, I felt his Alpha aura flare, but it was wrong. It wasn't the suffocating, flawless pressure that had held me down for years. It was fractured. Flickering and unstable, rotting from the inside out.

I heard the sickening crunch of bone as he dragged the Delta guard who had been on perimeter patrol into the room, brutally beating the man with unchecked, erratic rage. The pack was witnessing their flawless Alpha unravel.

With a sharp gasp, the vision snapped. The bond went completely, permanently dark. I sat alone in my sunlit room at Silver Moon, shivering, realizing just how dangerous a starving monster could be.

***

It took a week for the color to return to my cheeks. Seven days of open doors, fresh air, and Franklin’s quiet, steady presence. Deep in my chest, the faint, warm purr of my wolf was growing stronger by the day.

I was sitting on my balcony, watching the Silver Moon warriors run drills in the distance, when Franklin walked out. He set two mugs of herbal tea on the patio table, followed by a thick, glossy folder.

"You look better today," he noted, taking the seat across from me. His amber eyes were warm, but there was a serious edge to his jaw.

"I feel better," I admitted, wrapping my hands around the hot mug. "I feel awake."

Franklin pushed the folder toward me. The gold crest on the cover caught the sunlight: *The Lycan Healer Academy, Munich, Germany.*

I stared at it, my stomach dropping. "What is this?"

"An acceptance letter," Franklin said gently. "I pulled some strings with the Lycan Council. Paisy, your wolf isn't dormant. She's a latent Gamma, maybe higher, but she's suffocating. Five years of trauma and Hayes's toxic aura stunted her growth. You need to go to the Academy."

Panic, cold and sharp, seized my chest. I pushed the folder back. "No. I can't leave. You're the only safety I have, Franklin. If I leave your territory, Hayes will find me. He's looking for me. I felt it."

Franklin reached across the table, his large, warm hands covering my trembling ones. "I know you're scared. And I will always be your safe place. If I could, I would keep you right here behind my walls forever."

He paused, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "But you need to be far away to truly heal. Total separation from this continent, from pack politics, from Hayes's shadow. He won't stop looking for his battery. You can't just hide behind me, Paisley. You need to become your own weapon."

I looked down at the crest. The Lycan Healer Academy. It was the dream I had buried the day Hayes claimed me as his secret.

I was terrified of leaving the only man who had ever protected me. But as I felt that low, rumbling energy in my chest—my wolf, stretching her legs for the first time in her life—I knew he was right. If I wanted to survive Hayes Stone, I couldn't just be a runaway Omega.

I had to become a Luna.