Chapter 6: Joanna's POV

"I don't know, but I never intended to marry you from the start." I finished speaking, turned, and walked toward the door.

My legs were shaking. My knees felt like they could buckle at any second. But I bit down hard on my back teeth and forced my spine straight, the way Sebastian had once told me: chin up, shoulders back, don't ever let anyone see you're afraid.

The night air hit me full in the face. The courage I'd built inside that dining room drained out of me as if it had been siphoned away, leaving nothing but cold fear.

What had I done? I had just refused the marriage alliance to Lucian Silvermoon's face.

What would my father do to me? I didn't dare think about it.

I stood on the stone steps outside the club entrance, gulping air in huge, desperate breaths. The night rushed into my lungs, so cold it hurt.

My hand pressed against my lower abdomen without thinking, and through the fabric of my dress, I felt the faint warmth there.

No. I didn't regret it. Whatever happened next, I would not regret tonight's choice.

Sebastian, can you see me? I finally learned to live for myself. Too late — I know. I've already lost you.

But I will protect our child. I swear it.

I walked down the steps, my heels clicking crisp and sharp against the stone. The reflection off a car's engine hood caught the streetlamp light and hit me full in the face, forcing my eyes into a squint, blurring my vision for one moment.

A black car pulled up directly in front of me, so close I had to step back. The rear window slid down slowly. My father sat inside, his face completely blank — that kind of calm was more terrifying than any fury.

"Get in," he said. His voice was low.

My blood went cold in an instant.

Did he know? Of course he knew — probably from the very second I opened my mouth, someone had sent the message straight to his phone.

I pulled the door open and got in. The cold of the leather seat seeped through my dress into my thighs.

Inside the car was the smell of his usual cologne mixed with tobacco. When I was little, sitting on his lap and catching that scent, it made me feel safe. Now it made my stomach turn.

The instant the door shut —

Slap.

A palm struck my face full force.

"You stupid fool!"

The sound cracked through the sealed cabin, and my head snapped to the right. My temple struck the window glass, white light exploded behind my eyes, then black spots bloomed and spread.

The left side of my face went numb instantly, and then the pain erupted — burning outward from my cheekbone to my ear, to my scalp.

Something warm and wet seeped from the corner of my mouth. The taste of rust. I'd bitten through the inside of my lip.

The instant my tongue found the wound, a needle-sharp sting shot through me, but the pain actually cleared my head a little.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he roared. "You refused Lucian Silvermoon! Do you know how much effort I spent putting this alliance together?"

My chest heaved violently, and anger gathered in my stomach like a fist of fire, rising up through my esophagus to my throat. I could taste it — the same taste as the blood in my mouth.

"He didn't respect me. Why should I accept him?"

"Respect?" His voice went quiet.

"You think you're in any position to talk about respect? Without me — without the Ashford family — you are nothing!"

"Then at least it's my own choice!" I shouted back. "If I'd been braver back then, I never would have let Sebastian go!"

"You —" My father raised his hand again.

I saw it — the shape of his open palm silhouetted against the dark window, the thick fingers, the gold signet ring on his left hand — the same ring that had just left a bruise on my cheekbone.

But this time I didn't flinch. I just looked at him. At his reddened face. At the veins standing out on his neck.

At this man I had once called Daddy and once believed could protect me from anything in the world. I wasn't afraid anymore.

His hand hung in the air. Two seconds. Three. Then it dropped.

"Fine. Since you want your own choices so badly, I'll give you plenty of time to think about them," he said coldly.

"You're grounded. Until you learn to obey, don't think about leaving."

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled through the estate gates. The moment I got out, two guards stepped forward, one on each side, and seized my arms, their fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to make me bare my teeth.

Damn it! I struggled, twisting my wrists, throwing my shoulders into it, but it was completely useless.

They dragged me up the staircase and shoved me into the attic on the top floor. The door slammed shut behind me.

The room had once been full of old belongings. Now all that remained was a bed and a table. The sloping ceiling pressed down low, making the whole space feel cramped and suffocating.

I stood there for a while, then walked to the skylight and tried to peer through the gap — a small rectangle of black sky, scattered with stars.

My hand went to my stomach again. Palm flat against the warm skin.

I'm sorry, baby. Mommy got you into danger again.

That first night, I tried to pick the lock with my fingernails. The metal cylinder was hard and slick, and my nails kept slipping off. I shifted my angle and wedged the tip of my index fingernail into the edge of the keyhole, twisting hard.

The pain was instant and violent. My right index fingernail split down the middle, and blood welled up from the crack.

I bit my lip, and a muffled grunt squeezed out of my throat.

Never mind. Switch to the middle finger. Fuck — the middle fingernail cracked too in less than a minute.

I yanked my hand back and put both injured fingers in my mouth.

Every day after that, I tried something new. Every attempt failed.

The maids brought three meals a day on time, but none of them dared speak to me. They simply placed the tray on the table in silence and left in a hurry.

I tried to eat. For the baby's sake. I lifted the bowl, and the smell of the oatmeal hit my nostrils first, then my whole body started to revolt.

The sour smell of bread, the animal tang of milk — every food's scent was like a fine needle pushing into the lining of my stomach.

I forced a few spoonfuls past my lips, and my throat clenched immediately, my esophagus spasming, acid surging upward. I clapped my hand over my mouth and held the vomit down by sheer willpower. Sweat seeped from my forehead.

Eat. You have to eat. Not for yourself.

I sat on the bed and watched the sky through the gap in the skylight change from light to dark and back again.

Day seven. Day eight. Day nine...

No phone. No books. Nothing to pass the time with.

The days began to blur. The line between day and night became unclear. I couldn't tell whether I was awake or dreaming.

I started talking to my wolf. "Hey, are you still there?" No answer.

I started seeing things that weren't there. Shadows in the corners of the room that moved. The grain of the wooden ceiling twisting into shapes.

I was sure I heard Sebastian's voice calling my name. I whipped my head around — nothing behind me. Just gray-white walls.

I had lost count of which day it was when the maid brought dinner.

I picked up the glass of milk and took a sip. Lukewarm liquid slid down my throat with the faint animal tang.

My lower abdomen felt like it had been punched from the inside by a fist.

The pain detonated from the position of my womb and shot up my spine, all the way to the base of my skull. My back went cold in waves, and sweat soaked through my underwear in an instant.

Something warm was leaking from between my legs.

No. No no no no no —

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the hem of my dress. I sucked in one desperate breath, pulled my underwear down, and looked. That smear of dark red was like a verdict.

My legs gave out. My knees cracked against the floor, but I couldn't feel it — every nerve I had was consumed by the sinking, grinding cramp seizing my lower abdomen.

My eyes went to the milk glass on the table. The milk they sent every day.

My blood turned to ice. Someone was trying to kill my child. My father was trying to kill my child.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, and I felt more awake than I had ever been. I had to leave. Now. Immediately.

"Calm down, Joanna. Calm down." I heard my own voice speaking, trembling.

I braced both hands against the wall and pressed my forehead into the cold surface, forcing myself to breathe deeply. "There has to be a way out. There has to be."

The door was locked. The windows were boarded shut with nails. Guards were posted downstairs.

Think! Think, Joanna!

The memory came in a flash. When I was little, my mother and I had played hide and seek in this house. She would appear out of nowhere, scoop me up, and kiss my cheek. Then she told me that behind the walls of the estate were narrow passages — escape routes designed generations ago in case enemies came in the night.

Mom, did you see this coming even then?

I pushed myself upright. My legs were still trembling, and my lower abdomen was still in pain.

But I started knocking on the walls. Palm flat against the surface, one strike, then another. My palm turned red, and my knuckles ached with each impact.

My heart was hammering in my throat when my hand landed on a brick that sat slightly higher than the ones around it. Less than half a centimeter of difference, but my fingers had become absurdly sensitive over these weeks, tuned to textures the way a blind person reads, and I felt it immediately.

I pressed down.

A soft click. A section of wall panel swung slowly inward, and a gust of air rushed out — heavy with mildew and dust, thick enough to make me squint.

I drew one long breath and ducked inside. The passage was pitch black. After my wolf left me, my night vision was gone. I couldn't see anything. I could only press my left hand against the wall and feel my way forward, one step at a time.

I didn't know how long I walked. My legs were shaking. My palms were slick with cold sweat. The pain in my abdomen faded and returned in waves, like a restless hand gently squeezing my uterus.

Each time the cramp hit, I stopped and leaned against the wall, held my breath, and waited for it to pass.

A faint thread of light finally appeared ahead of me. I quickened my pace.

The darkness retreated behind me, and I could see a small door at the end of the passage. I pushed it open.

Night air hit me full in the face. Cold air rushed into my lungs. I gasped, dragging it in with huge, greedy gulps, my chest straining, my eyes stinging.

I was out. My hair whipped across my cheeks in the wind, sticking to my skin, tickling. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. But I didn't dare stop. Not yet.

Where would I go? A safe place. A place my father wouldn't find me. The closest place.

I thought of Diana — my old school friend. She ran an unlicensed clinic somewhere nearby.

We hadn't been in touch for a long time. I didn't know if she would help me. I didn't know if she even remembered me.

But I had no other choice. I started walking.