Chapter 4
【Elsa POV】
For three days, I barely left my room. I paced the floorboards until my feet ached, then sat at the edge of my bed, counting and recounting my savings. My fingers trembled as I folded thermal clothing into tight bundles and stuffed dried food into the hidden compartments of my backpack. I would not—could not—become the Pack's Omega breeding tool as Thorvald had promised.
Each time my shoulder throbbed where his teeth had broken skin, I gritted my teeth and continued packing. I pressed my palm against the wound, willing it to heal faster. Seeking treatment would cost money I couldn't spare. Better to pretend it never happened than acknowledge the violation that made me scrub my skin raw in the shower each night.
I stuffed my favorite Norse mythology book into my backpack, then pulled it out again, setting it aside with a shaky sigh. Too heavy. Every gram mattered now. I crossed my name off the Helsinki University night class roster with three decisive strokes of my pen. I wouldn't be returning anyway.
My escape hinged on the Manegalning. When everyone's attention turned to finding mates beneath the northern lights, I would slip away. I counted every krona I'd saved from my coffee shop job, folding the bills tightly and securing them in my inner jacket pocket. The wad felt pitifully small between my fingers.
A burner phone lay beside me, Linnea's number the only one saved. I'd bought it yesterday, slipping cash to the clerk while glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. I almost dialed Linnea's number twice before snapping the phone shut. Would contacting her put her in danger? I pressed the device against my forehead, eyes squeezed shut. The thought of never seeing my friend again made my chest tighten, but her safety mattered more than my loneliness. I tossed the phone into my pack, also burying my memories of Kafebonor, the only place where I'd felt almost normal.
"Elsa, this is an important event for the Svartskogens Pack," Father said at dinner on the third night, jabbing his fork into his meat.
"Yes, Father." I gripped my knife tighter, knuckles whitening as I cut my food into precise, tiny squares.
"I'd prefer you stayed home, but it would appear strange if my unmarried daughter of age remained behind while Astrid attends." He sawed through his steak, the metal scraping against the plate.
Astrid stabbed at her vegetables and rolled her eyes, clearly as thrilled about the traditional ceremony as I was, though for different reasons. Across the table, Bjorn shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, his cold eyes assessing me with their usual contempt.
"I expect you to be on your best behavior," Father continued, his gaze finally lifting, his eyes narrowing at the bruise near the crescent-shaped scar on my neck.
"I understand, Father." I tugged my collar higher, fingers fumbling with the fabric.
"Since you're wolfless, you cannot possibly find your fated mate there. So keep quiet and avoid trouble. Remember what Varglag demands of you." He pointed his knife at me as he spoke, the blade catching the light.
Once, his words would have cut deep. Now I merely nodded, my thumb rubbing against the escape money hidden in my pocket.
The next morning, I heaved my carefully packed bag into Astrid's Volvo SUV, hiding its weight with a practiced swing. Mother, Father, and Astrid climbed into Father's car ahead of us, while I slid into the passenger seat beside Bjorn.
My brother gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other punching the ignition button. He jerked the gearshift and accelerated sharply, forcing me back against the seat. When I reached for the radio, he slapped my hand away without a word. I curled my fingers into my palm and pressed myself against the door, counting the kilometers on the passing signs. Each one brought me closer to freedom.
I chewed my bottom lip raw, picturing Linnea's face when she realized I'd vanished. My fingers drummed against my thigh as I calculated bus routes from Manedalen to Granudden.
"You're not planning anything stupid at the Manegalning, are you, Elsa?" Bjorn's unexpected question made me jerk upright.
"Of course not. Father would be furious." I dug my fingernails into my palm, forcing my voice to remain steady. "He's made his expectations quite clear."
Bjorn's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as he navigated a sharp turn.
"Besides," I added, staring straight ahead, "no one would pair with a wolfless anyway." I couldn't keep the bitter twist from my lips.
"At least Molm would take you," Bjorn replied, jerking the wheel to avoid a pothole. "You wouldn't be his fated mate, but as long as your pups have wolves, they'll be treated well by the Pack."
I flinched at Molm's name, my hand flying to cover the crescent scar on my neck. My stomach lurched at the memory of his teeth. "As long as they have wolves, you mean."
Bjorn glanced sideways at me. "Ja. That's all that matters." He accelerated as the road straightened.
As we approached Manedalen, I sat up straighter, scanning the roadside markers. I counted three possible exit paths, memorizing each turn and trail sign. The town sprawled four times larger than Ljusviken—perfect for disappearing into the crowd.
I gripped the door handle, my palm sweaty against the cold metal. My heart hammered in my chest with each kilometer marker we passed. I flexed my fingers, mentally rehearsing how I'd grab my bag and slip away when the moment came.
Bjorn downshifted aggressively as we descended toward the town. I glanced at his impassive profile, remembering how he once carried me piggyback through these same mountains as children. I swallowed hard and turned away, pulling the folded Sagakafeet job listing from my pocket and tracing the address with my thumb.