Chapter 8 – The Escape Attempt

The note burned a hole in my pocket all day.

I couldn't focus in classes. Couldn't eat at meals. Couldn't look anyone in the eye without wondering if they were the one who'd written it—if they were the one watching me from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

They're watching you.

The walls have eyes. The shadows have teeth.

Run.

I didn't know who sent it. Didn't know if it was a threat or a warning. Didn't know if I should trust it or tear it up and pretend I'd never seen it.

But as the sun set and the academy grew dark, I made my decision.

I was leaving.

---

Packing took five minutes.

I didn't have much—just the clothes I'd brought from Istanbul, the photograph of my mother, and the black stone that had been left on my pillow. I shoved everything into my purple suitcase, zipped it shut, and stood by the window.

The forest stretched out below me, dark and endless.

Somewhere out there was a road. Somewhere out there was a town. Somewhere out there was a life that made sense.

I just had to find it.

I opened the window. The drop was too far—three stories, at least. But there was a tree outside, its branches reaching toward the ledge like bony fingers.

I'd climbed trees before. When I was a kid, before I got too big, before I learned to be ashamed of my body and its limitations.

You're not too big, I told myself. You're not too anything. You're just scared.

I grabbed my suitcase, threw it out the window, and watched it land in a bush with a muffled thump.

Then I climbed out after it.

---

The tree held.

My weight. My fear. My trembling hands and sweating palms. The branches creaked but didn't break, and I lowered myself down, down, down, until my feet hit the ground and my lungs released the breath I'd been holding.

I grabbed my suitcase and ran.

The forest swallowed me immediately.

No moonlight. No path. No sense of direction. Just trees—endless trees, their trunks dark and twisted, their branches reaching for me like grasping hands.

I ran anyway.

Branches whipped my face. Roots caught my feet. My suitcase bounced behind me, banging against my legs, slowing me down. But I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Run, the note had said.

So I ran.

---

I don't know how long I stumbled through the darkness.

Minutes. Hours. Time lost all meaning in the blackness between the trees. My legs ached. My lungs burned. My eyes strained to see anything—a light, a road, a sign of civilization.

There was nothing.

Just trees.

And then, behind me, a sound.

A twig snapping.

I froze.

Another sound. Closer this time. A low growl, deep and guttural, vibrating through the darkness like thunder.

I turned slowly.

Eyes. Dozens of eyes. Glowing in the dark—amber, gold, yellow. Ringing me in on all sides.

Wolves.

Not one. Not two. A whole pack.

---

They emerged from the shadows slowly, deliberately, like they knew I had nowhere to run.

Five of them. No—six. Large, lean, their fur bristling, their teeth bared. Saliva dripped from their jaws, and their eyes—those terrible, glowing eyes—were fixed on me with an intensity that made my blood run cold.

I dropped my suitcase.

"Nice wolves," I whispered, backing away. "Good wolves. I'm just passing through—"

One of them lunged.

I screamed and dove to the side, my body hitting the ground hard, dirt filling my mouth. The wolf sailed past me, its teeth snapping shut on empty air, and landed in a crouch.

It turned.

The others closed in.

I scrambled backward, my hands scraping against roots and rocks, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. They were everywhere—in front of me, beside me, behind me. A circle of teeth and fur and hunger.

This is how I die, I thought.

This is how it ends.

The largest wolf—a massive gray beast with eyes like burning coals—stepped forward. Its lips peeled back from its teeth. Its muscles bunched.

It was going to kill me.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

---

The gray wolf leaped.

I closed my eyes.

And heard a sound that didn't make sense.

A crunch. A whimper. A body hitting the ground.

I opened my eyes.

The gray wolf was dead. Its throat had been torn out, and its blood was spreading across the forest floor like spilled ink.

Standing over its body was another wolf.

Huge. Gray. Its fur silver in the darkness, its eyes burning gold. It was bigger than the others—bigger than any wolf I'd ever seen. Its shoulders were level with my chest, and its teeth were stained red with blood.

It turned to face the remaining wolves.

And growled.

The sound was earth-shattering. Primal. Terrifying. It echoed through the forest, shaking leaves from the trees, making the ground tremble beneath my feet.

The other wolves hesitated.

The silver wolf lunged.

---

What happened next was not a fight.

It was a slaughter.

The silver wolf moved faster than anything I'd ever seen—a blur of teeth and fur and fury. It tore through the pack like they were made of paper, ripping throats, breaking bones, spilling blood.

One wolf tried to run. The silver wolf caught it by the hind leg and dragged it back.

Another tried to attack from behind. The silver wolf spun and caught it by the throat.

Within minutes, it was over.

Six wolves lay dead on the forest floor. Their blood soaked the earth. Their bodies were broken and still.

And the silver wolf stood in the middle of the carnage, its golden eyes fixed on me.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't do anything but stare at the monster that had just saved my life.

---

The wolf walked toward me.

Slowly. Carefully. Its massive paws made no sound on the blood-soaked ground. Its head was lowered, its ears flattened, its tail tucked between its legs.

It wasn't threatening me.

It was... submitting?

I didn't understand.

It stopped inches from me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off its body, could see the individual strands of silver fur, could count the scars on its muzzle.

Its golden eyes met mine.

And something clicked.

I knew those eyes.

I'd seen them before—in a dream, in a hallway, in a room with a locked door and a fire that had burned down to ash.

"Nikolai?" I whispered.

The wolf blinked.

Then, right in front of me, it began to change.

---

The shift was not gentle.

Bones cracked. Muscles twisted. Fur receded into skin. The massive wolf folded in on itself, reshaping, reforming, becoming something else.

I should have looked away.

I couldn't.

One moment, a wolf was standing in front of me. The next, a man was crouching on the ground, naked, breathing hard, his body covered in blood that wasn't his own.

Nikolai.

His white-blonde hair was matted with sweat. His chest was heaving. His hands—those large, scarred hands—were pressed against the earth, trembling.

And he was completely naked.

I stared.

I couldn't help it. His body was... extraordinary. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. Muscles that moved under his skin like liquid. His chest was dusted with fine blond hair that trailed down his stomach, disappearing below his waist.

Below his—

I looked away.

My face was burning. My whole body was burning. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, trying to cool them down, trying to forget what I'd just seen.

"Ela."

His voice was rough. Hoarse. He'd been growling minutes ago, and I could still hear the echo of it in his throat.

"Ela, look at me."

"No."

"Ela."

"I'm not looking at you. You're naked."

"I know." A pause. "I don't have anything to cover myself with."

"Then stay behind a tree or something."

"There aren't any trees close enough."

I risked a glance.

He was still crouching, still naked, but he'd pulled his knees up to his chest, covering the most... essential parts. His eyes—those ice-blue eyes—were watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

"You're bleeding," I said.

"It's not my blood."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I looked at the dead wolves around us. At the blood soaking the earth. At the boy who had killed them all to save me.

"Why?" I asked. "Why did you come after me?"

Nikolai's jaw tightened.

"Because you were running," he said. "And I couldn't let you leave."

"You locked me in your room. You told me to go back to mine. You didn't—" My voice broke. "You didn't say you'd come after me."

"I didn't think I'd have to."

He stood up.

I looked away again, but not fast enough. I saw everything—the curve of his hip, the length of his thigh, the way his body moved like it had been designed to kill.

"Ela." His voice was closer now. He was walking toward me. "Look at me."

"I told you, you're naked—"

"Then get used to it."

I looked up.

He was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch. His body was streaked with blood—the wolves' blood, not his—and his skin was pale in the moonlight.

But it was his eyes that held me.

Ice-blue. Burning. Desperate.

"You can't run from this place," he said. "You can't run from what you are. And you can't run from me."

"I'm not running from you."

"Yes, you are." He reached out and touched my face. His fingers were cold—colder than they should have been. "You've been running from me since the moment we met."

"I don't even know you."

"Then stay." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "Stay and learn."

I should have pushed him away.

I should have turned and run back into the forest, back toward the road, back toward a life that made sense.

But I didn't.

Because for the first time since I'd arrived at Silvermoon Academy, I wasn't afraid.

I was seen.

"Nikolai," I whispered.

"Ela."

"We're standing in a forest full of dead wolves. You're naked. I'm covered in dirt. And I have no idea what's happening to me."

"I know."

"None of this makes sense."

"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."

"Then why do I feel like—" I stopped. Swallowed. "Why do I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be?"

Something shifted in his eyes.

The ice cracked.

And for just a moment, I saw what was underneath.

Not the alpha. Not the killer.

Just a boy.

A boy who was as lost as I was.

"Because you are," he said. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be, Ela. You're with me."