Chapter 5

Camille watched as Joffrey's silhouette disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, his back turned to her as if she were nothing but a shadow, an afterthought. The pain was raw, sharp, and immediate-a knife twist of rejection that felt even worse in the silence that followed. Her legs trembled, and she had to grip the doorframe to keep from collapsing under the weight of it.

For a long moment, she just stood there, breathing through the tightness in her chest. The quiet of the packhouse felt oppressive, the faint sounds of the few remaining partygoers like a distant reminder of her own isolation. She knew she couldn't stand there forever, but the thought of going back to her room-back to the emptiness-felt unbearable.

"Keep it together," she whispered to herself. "You can't let them see you break."

But her feet wouldn't move. She was frozen, caught between the urge to run and the need to scream. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, willing herself to feel anything but the crushing sense of worthlessness.

"Camille?"

The voice was soft, hesitant. She turned to see Daniel, one of the younger warriors in the pack, standing a few feet away. His brown eyes were filled with pity, and that made it worse. He'd always been kind to her, treating her like a little sister, but tonight she couldn't bear the way he looked at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping closer.

No, she wasn't okay. Nothing about tonight was okay. But she forced a smile, a thin, brittle thing that she knew didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just tired."

Daniel hesitated, his brow furrowing. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he must have seen the exhaustion in her eyes, the plea for silence. He nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. "If you need anything..."

"I won't," she cut him off gently. "But thank you."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then thought better of it. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone once more.

Camille let out a shaky breath and finally forced herself to move, making her way to the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, her body dragging as if the rejection had turned her bones to lead. She pushed open the door to her room and slipped inside, closing it behind her with a soft click.

The room was small, sparsely furnished, just a bed and a dresser, but it had always been her sanctuary. Tonight, though, it felt like a prison. The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. Camille sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands falling limply into her lap.

She pressed her lips together, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. She didn't want to cry, didn't want to give Joffrey the satisfaction of knowing he'd broken her. But the tears came anyway, hot and silent, tracing lines down her cheeks as she hugged herself, curling in on the pain that seemed to radiate from her very soul.

The moonlight glinted off a small, silver frame on her nightstand. It was a picture of her mother, taken years ago when Camille was just a child. Her mother's smile was warm, her eyes kind-so different from the harsh reality of the pack life Camille had known after she was gone.

"What would you say to me now?" Camille whispered, tracing the edge of the frame with her fingertip. "Would you tell me to leave? To fight?"

But there was no answer, just the rustle of the wind outside, the faint creak of the house settling. Camille let out a shuddering sigh, wiping the tears from her face. She couldn't stay like this-broken and waiting for something to change. Nothing would change unless she made it happen.

She stood abruptly, the decision crystallizing in her mind. If Joffrey didn't want her, then she wouldn't stay and let him and the others treat her like a discarded thing. She'd find a way out-she had to.

Camille grabbed a small backpack from her closet and began stuffing it with clothes, her hands moving quickly as if they had a mind of their own. She didn't know where she was going yet, but she couldn't stay here. Not another night.

Just as she zipped up the bag, a knock sounded at her door, startling her. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Who would be here at this hour?

"Camille, it's me."

Hannah's voice. Relief washed over her, and she rushed to open the door. Her friend stood there, her expression a mix of worry and determination. Without a word, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Hannah asked quietly, her eyes darting to the backpack on the bed.

Camille nodded, swallowing hard. "I have to. I can't stay here, Hannah. Not after tonight."

Hannah took a deep breath, her face tightening with emotion. "I figured you might feel that way. So, I did something. I... I reached out to someone."

Camille's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? Who?"

Hannah bit her lip, hesitating. "There's a man-a rogue, but not like the ones we've heard about. He helps people like you, like us. His name is Adrian. He's part of that group I mentioned before, the ones who left the pack system."

Camille's eyes widened. "You contacted a rogue? Are you insane? If the pack finds out-"

"I don't care," Hannah interrupted, her voice fierce. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. You need a way out, and this might be it."

Camille's head spun. It was one thing to think about leaving, another entirely to actually do it-to trust a stranger, a rogue, of all things. But what choice did she have? Stay here and be humiliated every day, or take a risk and find something new, something better.

"When?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"He's waiting for you," Hannah said. "At the edge of the forest, by the old bridge. But you have to go now, before anyone notices."

Camille nodded, her decision made. She threw the backpack over her shoulder and turned to Hannah, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you," she breathed. "For everything."

Hannah hugged her back just as fiercely. "You're my sister," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Go. Be free. And don't look back."

Camille pulled away, giving her friend one last, lingering look before slipping out the door. The packhouse was quiet, the shadows long and deep as she made her way outside. Her heart pounded in her chest, each step feeling like a leap into the unknown.

She moved quickly through the forest, her feet finding the familiar paths even in the darkness. The sound of the river grew louder as she approached the old bridge, its wooden planks creaking underfoot.

And there, standing in the moonlight, was a man she'd never seen before. Tall, with dark hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to see straight through her. He looked dangerous, but there was something else in his expression-something almost gentle.

"You must be Camille," he said, his voice low and smooth.

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

"I'm Adrian," he continued. "Hannah told me about you. I'm here to help."

Camille took a deep breath, staring into those vivid green eyes. This was it-her chance to escape, to start over. She didn't know if she could trust him, but she was willing to take the risk.

"Then let's go," she said, her voice steady.

Adrian gave her a nod, and without another word, he turned and led her into the night, away from the pack, away from everything she'd ever known.

And for the first time in a long time, Camille felt something like hope bloom in her chest.