<h4>Chapter 53: _ The Butcher’s n</h4>


    I took a deep breath, bracing myself. I needed to move now before I talked myself out of it.


    The back exit.


    It wasn’t the easiest way out—not with my father’s guards lurking around—but it was the least conspicuous. The front doors were out of the question, and the side gates were always locked.


    But the back? If I timed it right, I could slip past unnoticed.


    I tiptoed to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. My ears perked up but all I heard was silence.


    Good.


    I cracked it open and peeked down the hallway. The corridor was empty, except for the faint flicker of candlelight from a sconce on the far wall.


    My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I stepped out, keeping my footsteps light against the marble floors. I moved quickly but carefully, resisting the urge to sprint. Thest thing I needed was to alert someone with a misced tter of footsteps.


    I reached the end of the hall and pressed myself against the cool stone wall, taking a steadying breath. Just a little farther.


    The kitchen.


    The servants would be up soon, but if I was lucky, I could make it through before the morning rush. I slipped inside while the scent of stale bread andst night’s stew oozed faintly in the air.


    I crouched low, creeping past the long wooden table where I had once eaten breakfast in the mornings before my father decided I wasn’t worthy of dining like a proper daughter.


    My fingers grazed the cool iron of the back door handle. Carefully, I turned it and eased the door open, praying it wouldn’t creak.


    It groaned.


    I froze.


    Footsteps echoed from the hallway.


    Panic shot up my spine. My mind raced—run, hide, make up an excuse?


    The footsteps paused.


    I heard a muffled voice.


    And then... nothing.


    I waited, holding my breath. Seconds stretched into eternity as I waited, ying the many ways Father would punish me after I was caught.


    At this point, I was certain I’d get caught.


    Finally, the footsteps faded.


    I breathed out sharply and slipped out, closing the door behind me as gently as I could.


    The backyard was damp with morning dew. I crouched low once again and darted toward the trees lining the back of the property. The cool grass brushed against my ankles as I moved, my heart still pounding.


    Almost there.


    I reached the back gate which was a rusting old thing that had long since been forgotten by the guards. It was locked, but I knew better than to be discouraged. The wall beside it had a small ledge, just high enough for me to climb over.


    I ced my foot on the rough stone and hoisted myself up, gritting my teeth as my sore muscles protested. My palms scraped against the rough surface, but I ignored the sting.


    With onest push, I swung my legs over andnded with a soft <i>thud</i> on the other side.


    I was out.


    The pack streets were quiet, the first rays of sunlight just beginning to creep over the rooftops. A few chimneys puffed out wisps of smoke, and the distant sounds of livestock stirring could be heard.


    I kept my head down as I walked. The cool morning air stung against my skin, but I weed it—it kept me awake, kept me moving.


    A few pack members were already on and about, mostly elderly wolves setting up their market stalls. They paid me little attention, though I could feel the asional nce in my direction.


    I didn’t stop.


    Didn’t flinch.


    At least, they were too busy to care about me.


    I reached the butchery just as the pack truly began to wake. I swallowed, straightened my shoulders, and pushed open the door.


    The butcher nced up from where he was sharpening a knife. His dark eyesnded on me, then flicked toward the door as if to check the time.


    "You’rete."


    I winced. "I’m sorry."


    Before he could say anything else, a snide voice piped up from the side.


    "Boss, do you really expect an Omega to show up on time?"


    A few chuckles followed.


    I turned my head slightly and caught sight of the other workers—three of them, all older men, standing near a wooden counter stacked with cuts of meat.


    One of them, who was a wiry man with a thin mustache, smirked at me.


    "Surprised she even showed up at all."


    My nails dug into my palms. I bit my tongue, forcing myself to stay quiet.


    The butcher, however, did not appreciate this behavior.


    "Silencio! I don’t pay you to run your mouths."


    The room fell silent.


    He turned back to me and jerked his chin. "Follow me."


    Without another word, I hurried after him, ignoring the smug stares burning into my back.


    I didn’t care what they thought. What bothered the fuck out of me was whatever task the butcher had nned for me was.


    I followed him down a narrow hallway, the scent of raw meat and sawdust in the air. The ce was colder than I expected, the chill seeping into my skin, and yet, the back of my neck felt hot.


    Why was I so nervous?


    The butcher pushed open a door at the end of the hallway, stepping aside to let me enter first.


    I had no idea why he led me to his office.


    I hesitated before stepping inside, ncing around. "Am I working in here?" I asked.


    The butcher let out a short chuckle. "Of course."


    <i>Wow. Was he not such a kind man?</i>


    "Oh, thank God," I sighed, cing a hand over my chest. "I was really worried. I don’t exactly know how to do... you know,bor."


    His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "I understand."


    He shut the door behind him, the click of thetch sounding far too final.


    "That’s why I nned the perfect job for you."


    Something about the way he said that sent a cold ripple down my spine.


    I forced a chuckle. "Well, I appreciate it," I said, shifting on my feet. "What is it?"


    Instead of answering, he stepped closer.


    Too close.


    His calloused fingers brushed against my arm seductively.


    My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. <i>What the heck was this?!</i>