No Escape 

Jane drove to the beach and spent an hour walking the beach holding her shoes in her hand and letting the waves suck at her feet. She found a little café and ate her salad watching the wash of the waves towards the shore.

What was she going to do? She wondered. Just over a month married, and her husband did not want her and openly kept a mistress who believed that it was just a matter of time until he divorced Jane and married her instead.

She turned her phone over in her hands. She finished her meal and returned to her car, sitting in the driver’s seat, and dialling her father’s number.

“Hello Jane,” he answered promptly.

“Daddy,” she fought back her tears. “I want to come home.”

He sighed heavily. “Jane,” he said with patience. “What is this ridiculousness about?”

“Baron doesn’t love me,” the tears fell free and tracked down her face. “He only married me because of the connection to you. He keeps Angelique openly as his mistress, and she says that he will only keep me as his wife for as long as the connection matters, and then he will divorce me and marry her instead, and, oh,” her voice broke on a sob. “Daddyplease.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Why would Angelique think the connection would cease to matter?” He wondered.

That was he took from her babbled distress, she thought bitterly. “I don’t know.” 

he was curt with it. “Call me back when

her face with her hands and sobbed out her

alpha, next in line to inherit from Matthew both the family wealth and the leadership

telling her that their cruelty was just due to the game they were playing, and that Jane

was nothing compared to what Jane had experienced at the hands

had met Baron, and their wedding had been arranged, she had foolishly thought that finally someone saw her for herself, despite her rank in the pack, and that

angry with herself. Of course, there was no escape for her, because she was still her, still part of the

estate, finding the driveway blocked by a bright array of expensive sports cars, leaving her no choice but to park under a tree, and walk the rest of the way. Angelique had friends over, and they were enjoying the

to avoid any that might be inside the house. Her bedroom door was open, and she pressed herself against a

god, look at these hideous dresses,” a woman declared. “This one isn’t bad, actually. Could be cute if done up

cute,” another commented. “Do you think

a diary anywhere,” Angelique declared. “Probably wouldn’t be interesting to read anyway, her whole

“Who is this?”

she looks just like her. That would be her mother.

a sharp strike of fear run through her at the

them, she hurried into

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