CHAPTER THREE

LISA's POV

I escaped.

I had escaped from the confines of the slave quarters, driven by a desperate need to protect my child from the cruel fate that awaited him there.

Wrapping him in one of the clothes I found in the drawers of that room, and carefully placing him in a basket, I fled.

But now, as I wandered aimlessly through the darkness, away from the pack’s territories, realized that I had no plan, no destination in mind.

And then, like a mirage in the desert, I spotted it—a small, rundown house standing alone at the edge of the road, its windows boarded up and its doors hanging off their hinges. It wasn't much, but in that moment, it was a sanctuary—a place where I could rest and regroup before facing whatever lay ahead.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I made my way to the door and knocked, the sound echoing through the silence of the night like a prayer.

For a moment, there was no response, and I feared that I would be left to fend for myself once again. But then, just as I was about to turn away in despair, the door creaked open, revealing a man standing in the dim light of the doorway.

His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of me and the baby in my arms. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I nodded, my voice trembling with emotion. "Please," I whispered, "I need somewhere to stay, just for the night. Somewhere safe.”

The man hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between me and the baby. And then, as if coming to a decision, he stepped aside and gestured for me to enter.

"Come in," he said, his voice softening with compassion. "You and your child can stay here for as long as you need."

Relief flooded through me as I stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping me like a comforting embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to relax, to let go of the fear that had gripped me for so long.

But as I settled into the makeshift bed he had offered me, a sense of unease washed over me. Who was this man, and why had he been so quick to offer me shelter?

It was then that I noticed the look of recognition in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered on the birthmark that adorned my arm—a mark that had been passed down through generations in my family.

"You're... you're my daughter," he breathed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"No way," I blurted, my mind refusing to accept his words. "You... you can't be my dad."

He sighed, his tone heavy with emotion. "I am," he insisted, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"You... it can’t be. You died," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion as I fought to contain the flood of memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

He shook his head, his eyes filled with sadness. "No, Lisa. I'm not dead. I was banished from the pack, cast out like a pariah because of my indiscretion."

My heart sank at his words, the weight of his confession heavy upon my shoulders. "What happened?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I struggled to make sense of the truth that had been hidden from me for so long.

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the room. "I was a guard in the pack, tasked with protecting its members from harm," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "But I fell in love with the Beta's niece—a forbidden love that led to her becoming pregnant with my child."

Tears pricked at my eyes as I listened to his story, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. It was a tale as old as time itself—love thwarted by duty, passion quenched by tradition.

"And when the truth came to light, I was cast out," he continued, his voice hollow with regret. "Branded a traitor, a disgrace to the pack. I wandered the wilderness for years, searching for a purpose, a reason to go on."

My heart ached at his words, the pain of his exile echoing in every syllable. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "I had no idea.”

He turned to me then, his eyes softening with tenderness. "It's not your fault, Lisa," he said, his voice gentle as he took my hands in his own. "You were just a child when it happened. You couldn't have known."

A wave of emotion washed over me as I looked into his eyes, seeing for the first time the love and regret that lay hidden beneath the surface. "But I should have known," I murmured, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I should have searched for you, tried to find out what happened.”

He shook his head, his grip on my hands tightening with determination. "It's in the past now," he said, his voice firm. "What matters is that we're together now, father and daughter reunited at last." He pulled me into a hug.

“So, what exactly are you doing out here, and with a child?” He asked.

I burst out in tears, explaining to him all that happened. How I was framed for murder, demoted to being a slave, gave birth in a terrible condition, had one of my child taken away, and had to flee because my other son’s life is at risk.

My father assured me that all was going to be fine, and he would do anything he can to help me out.

Just as we were finishing dinner, he said, “I have an idea.”