Hunted

RILEY

Faster. Move. Come on.

My breaths were ragged, every inhale and exhale tearing through me as I barreled through the woods. Branches snagged at my fur, cutting deep, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when I could hear them right behind me—the snarls, the barks—closing in. Hunting me down like some damned animal.

Hell, who was I kidding? That’s exactly what I was to them now. A mutt to put down. An inconvenience. A betrayal.

I felt the snap of jaws too close, teeth grazing my tail as I dodged right, pushing every ounce of strength I had left. A single glance over my shoulder was my mistake. My paws slipped on the slick ground, sending me skidding over jagged rocks until I slammed down hard, side-first. Pain shot through me, raw and jagged, as I collided with a sharp rock that bit deep into my skin.

Howls. Sneers. They were so damn close.

Get up. Get up, Riley.

I forced myself to stand, paws trembling. My legs screamed to give out, but I pushed forward. I had to. They didn’t believe me—no one believed me, no matter how many times I told them I didn’t do it.

I didn’t kill Marcus.

The rain was harsh, drumming down on me as I staggered onward, my vision blurring with the downpour and blood loss. But then—finally—the trees began to thin. Almost there. Just a little further, and I’d be out of pack territory.

Just a little further, and I’d be free.

But then… everything started to fade. I stumbled as darkness clawed at my vision, the blood still pouring from the wound in my side where that rock had pierced me. I barely registered the feel of gravel beneath my paws as I crossed the border.

I was free, technically. But I wasn’t safe.

With one final shudder, my body gave out, collapsing onto the cold, wet ground. My eyes fluttered open for a second before closing, catching the hazy glow of headlights coming toward me. For a second, I thought it was death, come to drag me to whatever the hell waited on the other side.

But then, the sharp, acrid smell of tires burning on asphalt hit me, making my eyes snap open. No, the light wasn’t death coming to take me—it was a car, and then—

“Fucking hell! I almost ran you over.” A human.

I lifted my head, baring my teeth in a halfhearted snarl, barely able to make out the human’s silhouette against the blinding light. He knelt down, one hand reaching out to touch my fur, sending a cold shiver through me.

“Shit,” he muttered, his fingers tangling gently in my fur. “You’re bleeding. And freezing.”

I wanted to pull back, to snarl, to tell him to get the hell away. But I didn’t have the strength. The man disappeared, only to return with a blanket, wrapping it around me before lifting me into his arms. He was muttering something as he carried me, but it faded as I drifted into darkness, his voice the last thing I heard.

“Let’s hope you make it through the night.”

---

Dream…

My hand smoothed over the worn fabric of my black V-neck as I made my way up the stairs to Marcus’s office, a smirk creeping onto my face. I raised my fist, knocked once, twice, and… nothing.

That wasn’t like him.

Frowning, I gripped the doorknob, pushing the door open.

“Marcus?” I called, stepping inside.

Silence.

A suffocating stillness filled the room, and something… something didn’t smell right. My stomach twisted as I scanned the office, and then my gaze landed on him.

Marcus. Lying on the ground, his body sprawled near the window.

"Marcus!" I rushed forward, falling to my knees beside him. I reached out, hands trembling as I turned him onto his back, and a scream tore from me. His throat-slashed open. Blood everywhere. A knife buried deep in his gut.

My hand clutched the knife's hilt, pulling it free even as my brain screamed at me to stop, to think. But I couldn't. I couldn't lose him. This couldn't be happening.

"Marcus, please. Wake up. Wake up." My voice cracked, blurred with tears.

The door behind me slammed open. I spun around, eyes wild, to see Liam standing there, his face twisted in shock as he took in the scene.

"Liam, help him!" I shouted, desperately trying to save him… my Alpha even though I knew he couldn’t be saved.

But he didn't move. His eyes narrowed, fixing on me, and when he spoke, his words were sharp, cold.

"You killed the Alpha."

—

I gasped awake, my whole body trembling, the memory of two nights ago clawing its way to the surface. My vision was blurred, and I sucked in deep, shuddering breaths, struggling to calm my racing heart. When I finally managed to steady myself, I looked around, trying to piece together what the hell was going on.

Where the hell am I? My eyes flickered across the room—a ceiling that seemed too close, walls that felt heavy and worn. This wasn’t anywhere I’d ever been. A house, maybe? Just as quickly as the thought appeared, another memory surged forward—mud, shadows, the heart-pounding chase that had ended with me hitting the ground, waiting to die. And then… the human. The one who had almost run me over.

I jerked upright, only to bite back a hiss as pain stabbed through my side, white-hot and vicious. Glancing down, I took in the angry, jagged wound slicing across my skin, dried blood sticking to my naked body like an afterthought.

Shit. Staying here wasn’t an option. If that human found out what I really was… No. I had to go. But a glance down at my injury told me just as clearly—I couldn’t go far, not like this, and shifting would likely tear me apart.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand, every nerve screaming, each movement sending tremors through my limbs. My eyes took in the room around me—a fireplace, two black couches that had seen better days, and the thick smell of smoke hanging in the air, sharp and familiar. I staggered forward, following an instinct that led me down a short hallway until I stumbled into a bathroom.

Rummaging through the cabinets, I finally found a first-aid kit, my hands trembling as I spilled the contents across the counter. Bandages, a handful of pills, some antiseptic wipes. With shaking fingers, I grabbed an antibiotic pill and swallowed it dry, wincing as it scraped its way down. Pain shot through my side, fresh blood seeping through the half-clotted wound.

If I didn't patch this up fast, l'd be dead in no time. My fingers fumbled with the bandages, just about wrapping one around my waist when the bathroom door slammed against the wall.

I spun around, my heart pounding, and there he was—the man who had nearly run me over. He stood in the doorway, his posture tense, two hands gripping a bat, his blue eyes narrowed at me.

"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?"