Page 61 of Reclaimed

Instead, there’s a strange warmth pulsing through me. And somewhere buried deep, beneath all the excuses and confusion, my mind confesses a truth I’m not ready to face.

Maybe it feels different because it wasn’t a performance.

Last night felt real.

It was something I chose– something that anchored me inside my own body instead of making me desperate to escape it.

I raise my arms above my head, toes curling as I stretch before reluctantly sliding out of bed. My throat’s raw, desperate for a drink, and a delicious ache blooms between my thighs as I pace toward the door and pull it open.

“Talon?” I call, padding slowly out and down the hall. I glance around in search of him, but there’s no sign; no response. Only silence.

And somehow it feels like a pinch of betrayal.

I shake my head, telling myself not to jump to conclusions. The last time I left the bedroom, it took a few minutes for him to show his face. So, I follow the same routine as last time, wandering into the kitchen and filling a glass of water.

By the time I drain it, he still hasn’t appeared, so I refill it.

After the second glass, I lean my elbows onto the smooth quartz counter, fingers tapping idly as I wait. My ears strain to hear the faintest sound of him, but there’s nothing. He really must be gone this time.

A strange unease washes over me as I realize I’m alone, and for some reason, the solitude makes the cabin feel claustrophobic. The walls are suddenly pressing in too close, the silence too heavy. Then panic starts to worm its way in.

I shouldn’t be here.

I don’t even really know where here is, but it can’t be safe. Nothing with any connection to The Registry ever is.

I should run.

And while that instinct is immediate, so is the utter exhaustion lacing my muscles.

I’m so damn tired of running.

Every time I try, I somehow wind up farther from freedom than before. Because running doesn’t change what I am. It doesn’t erase my name from their system or make the guardianship contracts disappear. As long as someone owns me, I’ll never truly be free.

The truth settles over me with sickening clarity– that there’s no way out, not for me. Not for any of the Assets.

That thought should terrify me– and maybe it does– but beneath that fear, something harder takes root. Because that leaves me with two choices… give up, and surrender to a life that’ll never belong to me, or keep fucking trying to change my fate, even if it kills me.

Maybe freedom is impossible. Maybe every road I take leads me to the same place. But that ugly little bit of hope still clings inside me, because I’ve never been a quitter.

Steeling my resolve, I take a last sip of water and set the glass down on the counter, turning for the door. I have no idea what’s beyond it, but whether it’s salvation or damnation, I have to find out.

My bare feet slap against the hardwood as I stride across the room, pulse ratcheting higher with every step. When I reach the door, my fingers tremble as they curl around the handle and twist.

There’s no resistance, the lock snicking open on the first try and a gust of fresh air smacking me in the face.

I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t… nature. The cabin had a whole bunker-esque feel, and as I step out into the sunlight, I realize that’s because it’s a berm, built into a hill. I spin in a slow circle, finding nothing but grass and trees and wilderness spread out in every direction– towering pines, colorful maples, and thick birches fully surrounding the cabin.

Adrenaline surges through me. I’ve spent so long wondering what freedom feels like, what it tastes like.

Maybe it’s this.

Out here, with the woods stretching endlessly around me and no walls closing in, I swear I can finally feel it. With every inhale of fresh air into my lungs, I swear I can finally taste it.

And fuck, I want more.

I don’t even really choose a direction, I just run. Away from the cabin, away from Riggs, and away from a life that wasn’t and would never be mine.

Dead leaves and twigs crunch beneath the soles of my feet as my legs carry me through the trees, an electric jolt skittering through my veins with every reckless stride. Crisp air surges through my lungs, branches snagging at the loose fabric of my shirt. His shirt. But I don’t slow down. If anything, I run faster.