Noella

We are definitely not leaving this forest. I know because I came in here the other way.

We're only going deeper, but I don't have the heart nor voice to speak up and tell him.

Everything he was to me shattered with a single action. He killed that man. I watched the colour leach from Luke's face right before the life drained out of his eyes.

I don't know how he did it. He didn't even have to touch Luke before his life was forfeited. He didn't have to lift a single finger before Luke was choking on air that wouldn't come.

I'm walking behind a cold blooded murderer.

Snow crunches loud and obnoxious, the constant sound reverberating through my head until all I want to do is lie down in a quiet room and never come out. Never have to speak to the man in front of me again.

Too many questions ring in my mind, but I have no idea how to even begin getting answers. I can't- wait....

My head is full of questions, snow crunching, distrust. However, one thing it isn't full of is pain. The ear piercing, blind inducing pain that sliced through my head only hours ago is completely gone, and I have a feeling my father showing up at the same time is definitely not a coincidence.

I stop walking, planting my feet and crossing my arms before I demand, "What did you do to me?"

My voice is full of every bit of courage and confidence that I don't have, but he doesn't know that.

He turns, his face full of confusion, like I'm the one who's playing games with him.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and his tone is so innocent, so him, that I have to remind myself of what he did only minutes ago.

"Don't act dumb," I say. "Something was wrong with my head. Coincidentally though, as soon as you showed up, my problem was gone. So, I'll ask again, what. Did. You. Do?"

He sighs, and my shoulders drop at the expression he wears. For all my persistence, I had wanted so badly for him to say it wasn't him.

"I didn't do anything. One of my men put a tracking device in your neck. I had no idea it would cause so much pain, but I'm glad you're feeling better."

I feel faint all of a sudden, my head too heavy, my heart too light.

One of my men.

"You mean the rogues."

It's a statement, not a question, but his nod only makes my legs want to give out.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way," he says apologetically, stepping towards me. "I had plans, preparations in order. We were going to-"

"Who are you?" I ask, my eyes burning. "Where's the dad who brought me roses after his business trips? The father who read stories when I couldn't sleep? The man who took care of his kid instead of abandoning her?" My voice breaks, but I clear my throat and keep going. "Why am I looking at a stranger who works with enemies? A stranger who murders innocent people? A man who puts tracking devices in his daughter because he's too lazy to just search for her? Where's my dad?"

"I'm right here, Little Flower."

He tries to grab my shoulders but I sidestep, my body cringing away from his hands.

"No," I say vehemently. "My father left the minute you decided to dawn this mask. I'm not coming back with you."

The words hurt, the sting of everything I've ever known burning its way up my throat as I silently say goodbye to the only true thing I have left.

My father shakes his head, and dread fills me before he even opens his mouth.

"I can't let you do that. I'm sorry."

I take another step back, trepidation moving my feet before I do.

"You won't even give me a choice?"

His jaw ticks, his throat rolling with a swallow.

"You don't know what that pack holds. It's safer with me, I promise."

Pack? Why does it feel like every time someone speaks more questions pile up?

"The people back there have done nothing but try to help me. In the hour since I've found you, you have killed an innocent man, admitted to hurting me, and taken away my freedom. How is that safer?"

"That man made a choice," he growls. "Just as you are doing now."

"You aren't giving me one!" I all but yell.

"Yes I am! You either come with me willingly or you don't. You're. Choice."

I shake my head slowly, my feet moving back step by step.

"I choose neither."

I am not athletic, but given the option between running for my life or facing a man that has quite possibly gone insane, I can become athletic.

Racing through thick snow and dodging every tree that comes in my path, I run like my life depends on it, which, it quite literally could.

Something catches me from behind, and I gawk at the speed he would have had to possess in order to catch me. I was already a few steps ahead before I started running, and I didn't hear him start until a little while after.

I growl in frustration, my hands reaching back to hit anything I can find.

I'm being dramatic, childish, but I don't care. I'm scared, frustrated, cold, and all I want is to go back to Nixx. I couldn't tell you why, but I can tell you that I know without a doubt that he's safer than the man currently pinning me beneath his body.

"I'm sorry, Little Flower. I didn't want to have to do this, but you give me no choice."

I start to thrash, already knowing that his plans aren't going to sway in my favour, but it doesn't do anything to stop him.

I feel the pierce of a needle in my neck right before my mind fogs to black.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

I used to love stories. The depictions of right and wrong, good and evil, hero and villain. It made sense. There was logic and there was foolishness. Reading books never had to be complicated or complex. There was always an ending. You knew that everything would work out in the end. The war would end, the guy would get his girl, and there would be a cute epilogue to show how happy everyone was.

Life is not a book. Existing is not a fairytale. Villains act like heroes, and heroes start to desire more than good. Logic and foolishness are often confused with each other, and everything you do seems complex. No matter how many ways you twist it, life will always look the same. Uncertain, scary, and unpredictable. You can dip your toe in as shallow as you want, but nothing is stopping the wind from shoving you in the deep end.

I had no idea a villain was living alongside me, and as I sit here in the dark, I can't think of a single hero who would come down here to rescue me.

"You are the spitting image of your mother."

The voice makes me jolt almost as much as the words. The words my father would say every time I missed my mom. He would tell me that if I just looked in the mirror, I wouldn't miss her anymore, because I would be looking right at her.

"Did you kill her too?"

I don't know what makes me say the words, but the accusation doesn't feel misplaced. I have never met my mother, because, according to Foxley, she left around the time she had me.

I can't see his face, but I hear the sad sigh that comes from him.

"I know you are distrustful of me right now, but I can tell you that I would never dare hurt anyone I cared about. Your mother was my best friend, and when I told you that she left, I wasn't lying."

I scoff, my tongue poking my cheek as I shake my head.

"Wouldn't hurt anyone you cared about? Is that why you drugged me and dumped my body in a dirty cell? Interesting way to show your love, but I guess we all have our flaws."

"I did this to protect you!" He's suddenly in front of me, hands gripping the bars. "My actions are only ever to protect you."

"Then why did you leave?" I whisper.

He rests his forehead on the iron bars before saying, "Word was spreading about my constant coming and going. I had to lay low for a few days so the packs would stay off my back. I knew you would eventually find me. I'm sorry you ended up in that horrible pack first."

Confusion hasn't left my head since he found me, only stacked higher and higher. I have so many questions my head is beginning to pound with the heaviness of them all, but before I can ask a single one, shouting from upstairs sounds.

Right before the clash of weapons.