Nikki held her breath as she stepped off the ferry that took her from the mansion on the island, the island her husband owned. She made her way down the dock, her one suitcase lighter than it should be for someone running away, but that had been the plan. A few clothes and money, that’s all the suitcase held. It all boiled down to what her life had become.

There weren’t many people around at two thirty in the morning, and she didn’t have long to get out of town. The pills she had slipped her husband that night, combined with the liquor, wouldn’t last long.

She scanned the dark shadows of the empty alleys that wove through the vacant buildings of the shipyard. Her ride, the ride she had paid for in advance, should have been waiting for her.

There wasn’t a car in sight.

Damn it.

Heart pounding, Nikki knew she couldn’t stay where she was. She glanced over and spied the activity surrounding the nightclub that had opened under new management a few years ago. The thought of crowds twisted her already tight stomach, but at the moment, she didn’t have a choice.

With one more glance around, hoping she’d spy a car waiting for her, she made her way to the door. A few feet from the entrance, a movement from her left caught her eyes, and she froze. She didn’t stop for long to see who it was, and she shot through the door, her suitcase bruising her ankles. In her haste for safety, she hit what felt like a brick wall and would have fallen if large hands hadn’t grabbed her, steadying her back on her feet.

Stiffening, she felt the scream building in her throat, but thankfully, she got a look at the man before her, at the concern in his eyes she didn’t trust. He was a large man, his shoulders wide and dark eyes intense. Black hair lay neatly against his ears, the top ruffled from what looked like finger paths of frustration.

Jerking away, she skirted around him without a word, missing the narrowing of his eyes as they followed her.

She made her way to the bar. Nikki hated to open her mouth to say anything. Words always left an impression. People remembered words, actions, and looks. All she wanted was to be invisible.

She saw another large man behind the counter pause and smile at a woman talking to him. Were all the damn men around here big?

She clutched her suitcase tighter in her hand and grabbed her moment when his eyes met hers.

“Do you have a phone I could use?” she asked, trying to talk and act normally. She prayed she succeeded, but at that moment, she just had to make a call and get out of town before it was too late.

The man nodded toward the far wall, and she followed his gaze, spying an old-fashioned phone on the wall.

“Thank you,” she muttered, heading toward the black device hanging on the back wall.

The bar filled with smoke made it hard to breathe as smelly bodies of all shapes and sizes crowded the limited space. Nikki tried not to touch anyone as she weaved her way to her destination, but the possibility of that was slim as whistle calls and hollers followed her.

Finally making it to the back, she felt the possessive and lust-filled eyes follow her movements and struggled to ignore the ripple of waves she was creating. She had prayed for invisibility, to not be remembered, but the chances of that were also slim. Her only chance was to get out of town fast, and now without a car waiting for her, it only left her one option—to call someone she hadn’t heard from in years.

Her hands trembling and palms sweaty, Nikki dialed the number.

It had been years since she had seen her, talked to her, but Nikki remembered the safety and the protection she had always felt within the pack. Nikki herself was human, but that hadn’t stopped the family from treating her gently, with equal favor, and at times even like fine china.

As a teenager, she hadn’t known how to take it, how to respond to people so different from her own. Even though her own family was loving in their own way, they were still vastly different. But it was those memories that had seen her through the punches, kicks, and torture of her husband and his hired thugs. She didn’t have anyone else, and she was out of options. Nikki just prayed her friend remembered her.

Otherwise…

“Hello?”

Her familiar voice brought tears to Nikki’s eyes, and it was hard to get the words out past her tight throat. She still sounded the same—that gentle voice that soothed and healed.

“Samantha?” she whispered.

Her eyes scanned the interested faces of the men around her. She hunched down even further against the wall, but for the life of her, Nikki couldn’t disappear into the wood no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart felt as if it was going to burst right out of her chest, and fear stumped her for a minute, even with the dimly lit room and activity going on around her. She struggled to breathe, her whole body trembling as she felt menacing eyes, some curious, some interested, but some narrowed, watching. It was that feeling that had her about to hyperventilate as she fought to speak.

“Who is…? Nikki?”

Even after ten years…

The tears fell, sliding down her cheeks and dripping from her trembling lips.

“Oh my God, Nikki. What's wrong?”

Sam had that ability. She had always been able to tell when something was wrong, and the years fell away as the tears came faster like a raging river down her cheeks.

“I'm in trouble,” she whispered.

Suddenly, a tall man leaning against the far wall moved to her right, drawing her gaze. His eyes, those menacing brown eyes, froze her as she focused on that one spot. Her surroundings dimmed and faded as everything else she had worked for, escaping and risking it all for her freedom, evaporated into smoke.

Oh God, no.

“Nikki, where are you?” Sam asked urgently.

She didn't answer for a minute, and the man moved again, this time straightening with his hands in his jean pockets. Terror sent her moving.

“He's going to kill me.”

With that, she was out of time. She dropped the phone, and Sam’s panicked voice faded as Nikki turned, grabbed her suitcase, and weaved her way back through the crowd, the hoots, cat calls, and hollers, heading for the exit as fast as she could go without arousing any more suspicion.

She made it outside and took off running. In hindsight, she probably should have stayed in the crowd, but without a moment of thought, took the alley behind the building.

Staying to the shadows, her ragged breathing echoed in the silence as her sides ached. She lost track of where she was and paused for a minute, straining to hear past the hammering of her heart and her own breathing. She didn't relax when she heard silence.

Her call for help had failed. She was on her own.

Nikki glanced down the dark alley to her right and then toward the lighted streets on her left. A normal person would have taken the illuminated path, but those people didn't have a husband who knew everyone in town, who had them all fooled. She couldn't go to the hospital because his brother was a doctor. She couldn't go to the police because...well...she had learned the hard way on why that was a bad idea!

She had a higher chance of survival down the alley rather than the open streets and the normal places a person sought help. She limped down the sidewalk, her suitcase, getting heavier by the second, bumping against her bruised ankles. Nikki slipped through the darkening shadows, keeping her eyes peeled for anything that moved.

Through the ten years of marriage, Nikki had become a pro at the art of being invisible. It was how she had managed to survive as long as she had.

His first wife hadn't been so lucky, she thought, cringing at the thought of a fall down the stairs that the first one had suffered. A broken neck had ended her life, and Nikki knew her own time was up. If Edward caught her, she wouldn’t last through the night.

Thoughts of how it had all started suddenly filled her mind as she moved through the dark. It had taken just one look, one shared glimpse of interest for Nikki to go down a path no woman should ever walk.

Nikki remembered their first meeting, both surrounded by friends at a popular lake. A hot summer, that afternoon had topped well over ninety degrees, making jumping into the lake a desirable pastime.

Thinking back, Nikki knew she had been an easy target from the very beginning, with a vulnerable air that even now made her cringe. Seeing him for the first time, his looks and charm had swept her off her feet, as corny as that sounded. He had been so attentive and sweet that at first, she didn’t know how to respond or act, blushing and stuttering like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Vetted by her friend’s boyfriend, she had thrown her usual caution to the side, never suspecting that his grin and laugh concealed the darker side of his brutality.

Taken by his handsome looks and deep laugh, she had struck up a conversation on the dock of the lake, which had been mistake number one. The second mistake had been marrying him four months later.

After that, everything had seemed to go downhill. Little things had her suspicious, but she had just figured she was being paranoid. Late night meetings, strangers coming and going, the locked office she was never allowed to enter. Not even the maid was allowed to enter the room. Her husband cleaned it himself, and he wasn’t one to clean or maintain anything, which he deemed women's work.

That was a woman’s responsibility, in his mind. Even the multitude of guns in the house had set off her internal alarms, but she had been too terrified to do or say anything because six months after the exchange of vows, the first punch had made contact. She had been cooking after giving the cook the day off, but she had forgotten that her husband had a dinner party that night at the house. He had told her she had forgotten, but to Nikki, he had never told her, period.

When she had pointed that part out, he stormed over to her and hit her in the stomach. It had never been the face, not until this last time.

The sound of a footstep behind her sliced through the dark memories, and she froze, her chest tight as she struggled to breathe.

Breathing ragged, she shivered, goosebumps rising on her bare arms.

Another step behind her sent her flying down the broken concrete of the alley toward the light at the end of the buildings, and the footsteps behind suddenly took off, their heavy steps coming closer. A scream building in her tight throat, she ran, her sides pinching and straining as her bruised legs threatened to cave, but she pushed herself faster.

If she slowed or stopped, she was dead.