Hunted by My Alpha

Blood splattered beneath Seraphina Ashford's boots as she sprinted through the lifeless streets of Telenburgh.

Her ragged breath echoed off the empty buildings. Zombies shuffled back and forth on every street she tried, as if the whole city belonged to them now.

She tightened her grip around the crystal in her hand and forced herself to keep running. Her life, and the lives of everyone she loved, depended on it. She couldn't afford to stop, not even for a second.

She glanced back. There were more of them now, closing the distance. She looked down at the crystal glowing faintly in her palm.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll get you somewhere safe."

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked at the gash across her hand. She tore a strip from the hem of her shirt and tied it off as best she could.

"Ouch."

She pressed a hand to her stomach and smiled, just for a moment, before forcing herself upright again. Her breath hitched with every step.

To her right, a corpse dragged itself out from beneath an overturned bus. Rotting hands reached through a shattered shop window. A small, child-sized shape limped across the road ahead of her.

She was surrounded.

I need to get out of here, she thought. He's waiting for me.

She crept forward, slow and silent, until the sounds of shuffling feet faded behind her. Only then did she let herself smile, pressing a hand to her stomach again.

"Just a little further," she murmured, "and we'll be okay. I can't stop now."

The cut on her hand wouldn't stop bleeding, but she pushed on until she reached a small, muddy lake. She dropped to her knees and drank straight from it, filthy water and all. She didn't care. She just needed something, anything, to ease the burning in her throat.

She allowed herself only a moment's rest before she saw it: a building rising out of the ruins ahead. She forced herself up and limped toward it.

The safe house.

She knocked, and Tristan opened the door.

"Honey." His voice was warm, relieved.

Her chest lit up with something like joy. She pulled the crystal from inside her dress and held it out to him.

"Here. I finally got it. We don't have to worry about our safety anymore."

Tristan's smile stretched wide, the kind of smile that belonged to a man who'd just won something enormous. He took the crystal from her hands.

"Honey, you actually did it." He turned it over, admiring it. "With this, we can relocate to another city. Somewhere safe."

"I'm so proud of you," he added.

"Stop it," she said, flustered.

"What would we have done without you?"

"Stop the flattery. I should be the one saying that. Without you, I don't know how I'd ever smile again."

Tristan's fingers closed around the crystal, and for half a second, his smile vanished entirely, so fast she almost missed it.

She didn't notice. Her hand had drifted to her stomach, and her eyes had followed it.

Tristan glanced past her, toward the door, as though he were waiting for someone.

Seraphina let out a long breath of relief. "Honey, can I get some water? I'm so thirsty."

"Of course. I'll have Mom bring you some."

He turned and called down the hall. "Mom, Sera's back, she got it. Can you bring her some water? She's exhausted."

His mother appeared a moment later, cup in hand.

Grace was right behind her.

Seraphina's breath caught in her throat. Every coherent thought slipped away as she stared, unable to convince herself that what she was seeing was real.

"Grace?"

Grace smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only mockery.

"What's with that big belly of yours?"

Seraphina blinked, pressing a hand to her own stomach. "Oh. You mean this." She managed a small, confused laugh. "You're not even married yet. How are you—"

"Thanks so much," Tristan cut in.

Seraphina smiled at him, still not understanding.

"It's okay," he said. Then, quieter, almost to himself: "You were useful."

She froze.

His mother stretched out her arm, offering the cup of water.

"Oops." The cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. "My mistake."

"It's nothing, Mom," Tristan said.

Grace laughed. "Thank you for this. Honestly, you deserve some kind of award."

"I need to get myself some water," Seraphina said, her voice unsteady now.

Grace stepped into her path, blocking her.

"And who said you could walk anywhere without my permission?"

"What do you mean, Grace? Since when do I need your permission in my own house?"

The three of them laughed together.

"Wait," Seraphina said, panic creeping into her voice. "What is going on? Why are you all laughing at me?"

"You've been used," Grace said simply, and laughed again.

"Tristan," Seraphina said, her voice breaking. "Talk to me. What's actually happening? Why is Grace acting like this?"

He shoved her to the floor.

She hit the ground hard, staring up at him as he crossed the room to Grace and rested his hand on her stomach.

"Why are you two acting so strange?" Seraphina's voice cracked. "Can someone just tell me the truth?"

"Are you blind," Grace snapped, "or do you really not understand what's happening here?"

Seraphina rubbed at her eyes, as if that might make any of this make sense.

"Thanks for this," Tristan said, looking down at her. "You saved us all."

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the door, shoving her out into the dark.

She felt the ground disappear beneath her and grabbed the edge of what turned out to be a pit, the den below alive with movement.

"Tristan!" she screamed.

He walked toward her slowly, no urgency in his steps at all.

"I know this is a mistake," she said, reaching up for him, desperate. "Please."

Instead of taking her hand, he pressed his shoe down on her fingers, grinding until she cried out.

She looked past him to Grace, who was smiling, unbothered, radiant with cruelty.

"Dear friend," Seraphina gasped.

"I knew you wouldn't abandon me," Grace said sweetly. "Even if everyone else wanted to."

"Who said I was saving you?"

"What do you mean, Grace?"

Grace crouched down to her level, tilting Seraphina's chin up with one finger so their eyes met.

She smirked. "Thanks for letting me have your man. And your family."

"Grace—"

"Don't say my name with that filthy mouth of yours."

"Grace, you're pregnant. With my husband's child?"

"Oh, sorry, you're just finding out now?" Grace said, feigning surprise. "Not my fault, really. It was his idea." She tilted her head toward Tristan.

Seraphina turned to him, her whole body trembling. "What did she just say?"

"What you heard," Tristan said flatly. "You were useful. Thank you for the supplies. Thank you for everything, really. You've been a good person."

Her chest tightened so painfully that every breath felt borrowed, and yet the tears refused to come, as though even her grief had abandoned her now, when she needed it most.

"I'm carrying your child," she whispered.

He used his shoe to push the last of her fingers free from the edge.

She fell.

The zombies closed around her the moment she hit the ground, and she stared up at the two shapes still standing at the edge above her, hand in hand.

She thought of Daisy. Of the warnings she'd refused to hear.

He's not a good man.

Something is going on between them.

You can't accuse him of that.

She thought of the birthday her parents had planned for her, the one she'd missed entirely, waiting for a man who never came.

Don't marry him, her mother had begged.

If you're so grown that you can decide for yourself, her father had said, then if you marry him, don't ever step foot in this house again.

And she had chosen him anyway. She had begged to save his mother, instead of her own.

She watched Tristan and Grace through the haze of her own tears, watched them lean into each other, perfect and unbothered, while she lay dying in the dark below them.

One a coward. The other a viper.

Regret settled heavy in her chest, not because she feared death, but because she finally understood the people she'd loved, far too late to tell any of them the truth.

"Mom. Dad. Daisy. Brother," she whispered.

"I'm sorry."

Her hand found her stomach one last time.

"Baby. I'm so sorry. Mom couldn't protect you."

Tears slid down her cheeks, her lips trembling as the dark closed in.

She closed her eyes.

If there is a next life, she thought, let me save my parents. Let me not choose the wrong path again. Let me protect the people who actually value me.

And if fate is keeping count of every mistake I've made, let it count the goodness underneath them too.

The darkness swallowed her whole.