Marked by the Red-Eyed Alpha

It was snowing again.

Big, fat flakes drifted from the pale gray sky, settling like ash on the sharp rocks and frozen earth beneath my boots. My fingers burned from the cold, tucked deep into the folds of my oversized cloak, and my breath came out in careful, slow puffs. I had to keep it quiet. Wolves had excellent hearing, and even better noses.

Too bad I had neither.

Being half-human meant I caught colds easily, wore thick layers in a pack that barely wore shirts, and always had to be a step smarter, faster, quieter or else, I was dead. Or worse: humiliated. Again.

I crouched behind a cluster of pine trees, the bark pressing into my back, my breath held tight as footsteps crunched nearby.

"Where the hell did she go?" a voice snapped. Male. Sharp. Frustrated.

I smirked.

"She's like a damn squirrel. Just vanishes," another growled. A softer voice, but no less angry.

I knew who they were. Arnou and Derek. Both sons of the elite, both entitled assholes with nothing better to do than chase Omegas around like it was sport. And me? I was their favorite game.

I adjusted the scarf wrapped around my neck and bit down a laugh. If they could see me now, hunched up in layers like an overcooked burrito, they'd probably lose their shit. But hey, screw them. Wolves radiated heat from their beasts. I didn’t have that luxury.

They got quiet. Too quiet.

I slowed my breathing, shutting my eyes, feeling the rhythm of the forest. A trick I taught myself. Match the silence. Blend with the cold.

Their footsteps moved away. I counted ten seconds. Then I crept out.

One step. Two. Snap.

A twig betrayed me.

"Got you!"

I bolted. My cloak flared behind me as I tore through the trees, boots skidding over snow and hidden roots. Laughter followed me, cruel and breathless.

"Run, Omega bitch!"

I ducked a branch and shot left, sliding down a slope and almost twisting my ankle. Arnou was gaining, and that pissed me off more than it scared me. I could already hear the teasing if he caught me.

So I spun, mid-run, grabbed a chunk of frozen mud, and flung it behind me. It hit something.

"Ugh! She hit me! The little psycho hit me!"

I laughed. "You're damn right I did! Slow bastards!"

"You’re dead, Auren!"

"Then catch me, asshole!"

Gods, I loved this. The air in my lungs, the rush in my blood, the fury in their voices. It was twisted, I knew. But when they were mad, they lost focus. And when they lost focus, I could disappear.

The chase continued, and I zigzagged through the trees like I was born for this. I wasn’t, but I adapted. If Mum saw me now, she'd grab my ear and tug it until I apologized. She hated it when I stirred trouble.

"Keep your head down, Ren," she'd whisper. "Don’t give them a reason to notice you."

Too late for that. Auren the Half-Breed was always noticed. Red hair in a pack of browns and blacks? Lean body wrapped in layers like a human grandpa? Wild eyes and wilder tongue? I didn’t belong. So I made sure they remembered why.

I reached the edge of the forest clearing, panting, legs sore. I might've escaped if I hadn’t slipped on a patch of ice. I fell hard.

"Shit!" I hissed, my elbow cracking against the ground. Footsteps thundered behind me, loud and fast. They were gaining.

I scrambled to rise, boots slipping as I pushed up, forcing my numb legs to cooperate.

No time. No wolf. No backup.

So I did what I did best. Disappear.

I bolted off the path and ducked into the thick line of pea trees behind the training shed, where shadows grew long and most wolves didn’t bother checking. My lungs burned, my coat flapping behind me like some ridiculous cape. I bit back a grin. This was reckless. Dangerous.

Gods, I lived for it.

I crouched low behind the stacked crates near the back wall, back pressed against the cold wood, breath low and measured. The snow had soaked through my trousers, numbing my knees, but I held still, listening.

One second. Two. Five.

Nothing. No growls, no snarls, no crunch of boots in the snow.

I grinned to myself. Idiots.

They’d scattered, convinced I’d gone left probably toward the Omega dens. Amateurs.

Then I felt it. Movement. The barest touch brushing my shoulder. I spun instantly, fist cocked, knee rising to strike whoever wanted to—

And froze.

Big brown eyes. Frizzy dark curls.

“Ren, are you okay?” she whispered, concern flickering across her face. Her eyes scanned me quickly.

“Mira.” I whispered back, my breath still shallow from the run.