Chapter 68

Lyra

I was running.

Like, really actually running. Not the cutesy kind of jog you do on a treadmill when you’re pretending to be fit.

Not a TikTok-worthy, slow-motion bounce with a ponytail swishing and butterflies fluttering around you. No.

I was running like my life depended on it. Like the man I just called Daddy told me to run or he was going to fuck me up against the kitchen counter until I forgot my name, my address, and every single vowel in the English alphabet.

And oh my God, the worst part?

I wanted to be caught.

Like, I was literally sprinting through the woods barefoot with twigs scratching my ankles and branches tugging at my hair, and all I could think about was his voice—Damon’s voice—in my head, dark and feral and so fucking hot it made my spine curl.

“Ten seconds, kitten.”

Ten seconds to get away. Ten seconds before he stopped pretending to be civilized. Ten seconds before the big, dangerous, fucked-up Alp