Run or Die

Astra's POV

The shot just missed Astra's ear by a few inches. She dove and ran faster, and each breath hurt her lungs. She was being chased by four wolves through the dark bush. They weren't trying to make friends.

A deep voice yelled behind her, "Get the rogue!" "Don't let her escape!"

When Astra jumped over a downed tree, her bare feet hit the cold ground. There were leaves and sticks in her long, dark hair as it whipped around her face. She couldn't stop. When thieves were caught by pack wolves, they usually died.

She kept going even though it hurt her side to run so fast. She had learned one thing from being chased for ten years: never stop when they're close.

"I see her!" Another arrow flew by, this time brushing her arm.

Astra bit her lip to keep from crying out. Blood trickled down her arm, but she couldn't worry about that now. The smell would make it easy for them to track her, though.

Up ahead was a river. If she could just reach it, she might be able to hide her smell. Astra pushed her tired legs harder, ignoring the pain shooting through her body.

Behind her, the sounds of heavy paws hitting the ground got louder. The wolves had changed forms. As wolves, they were faster than her human form, but Astra didn't dare shift. Her wolf was weak from hunger, and shifting would take precious energy she couldn't spare.

The river came into view, moonlight dancing on its surface. Just a little farther...

A heavy weight slammed into her back, sending Astra crashing to the ground. Sharp claws dug into her shoulders as hot breath hit the back of her neck.

"Gotcha, rogue," growled a voice that was half-human, half-wolf.

Fear shot through Astra's body, but she wasn't done fighting. With a scream of rage, she twisted and slammed her elbow into the wolf's eye. The creature yelped and loosened its hold just enough.

Astra rolled free and scrambled toward the river. Without thinking, she leaped into the icy water. The cold hit her like a thousand knives stabbing her all at once. The current was stronger than she expected, quickly pulling her under.

Water filled her nose and mouth as she fought to reach the top. Her lungs screamed for air. Just as spots began to dance in front of her eyes, Astra broke through, gasping.

The angry howls of the wolves grew distant as the river carried her away. They wouldn't follow her into the water. Wolves hated getting wet almost as much as they hated rogues.

When she was sure they couldn't see her anymore, Astra swam to the opposite bank and dragged herself out of the water. She fell on the muddy shore, shivering violently.

"H-happy early b-birthday to me," she mumbled through chattering teeth.

Tomorrow she would turn eighteen. Ten years since everything had gone wrong. Ten years since the day her little sister Lyra had died. Ten years since her pack had turned on her, blaming her for Lyra's death.

Astra closed her eyes, the memories washing over her like the cold river water.

She had been just eight years old when they kicked her out. The Alpha—her own father—had looked at her with cold, hateful eyes.

"You let your sister die," he had said in front of the whole pack. "You are no daughter of mine. Leave and never return."

No one had stood up for her. Not even her mother. They had all watched as the guards dragged her to the pack borders and threw her out into the woods.

A little girl, all alone.

Astra pushed herself up, wincing at her cuts. She couldn't stay here. Those wolves might still be hunting her, and other predators would smell her blood soon.

She had lasted this long by never staying in one place too long. By being unseen. By acting as a slave to other packs who were willing to give her scraps of food in exchange for endless work.

Her present "master" would beat her for running off. For getting hurt. For anything, really. But it was better than being dead.

As Astra limped through the forest, she thought about the strange feeling she'd had all day. Like something inside her was waiting. Changing. Maybe it was just because of her birthday tomorrow. Eighteen was special for werewolves, marking the beginning of adulthood.

Not that it would change anything for her. Rogues didn't get to celebrate birthdays.

By the time she reached the small hunting house where she worked, the sky was turning pink with early morning light. Astra slipped in through the back door, hoping no one would notice she'd been gone.

No such luck.

"Where have you been, girl?" Master Kron's voice boomed from the dark. The big, ugly werewolf stepped into view, his face twisted with anger.

"I was gathering herbs for the kitchen," Astra lied, keeping her eyes down. "Like you asked."

A hard slap across her face sent her sliding backward.

"Liar! I can smell the river on you. And blood." He grabbed her hurt arm, squeezing until tears sprang to her eyes. "You were running again, weren't you?"

"No, Master, I—"

"Silence!" he roared. "I paid good money for you, thief. You belong to me."

Astra bit her tongue. She belonged to no one, but saying that would only make things worse.

"You need to be taught a lesson." Master Kron pulled her toward the back room where he kept his whip.

Panic rose in Astra's throat. The last time he'd whipped her, she couldn't move for days. She couldn't go through that again.

"Please," she begged. "I'll work double jobs. I'll clean the whole house. Anything!"

Master Kron ignored her pleas, his grip tightening painfully. As they passed the fireplace, Astra's gaze fell on the heavy iron rod leaning against the stones.

Without thinking, she grabbed it and swung.

The poker connected with Master Kron's head with a terrible crack. He froze, a look of shock on his face, then slumped to the floor.

Astra stood there, shaking, the poker still clutched in her hand. What had she done? Attacking a pack wolf was punished by death. If anyone found out...

She dropped the poker like it was on fire. Master Kron was still breathing, but a nasty gash oozed blood on his scalp. He would be out for a while, but when he woke up, he would kill her for sure.

Astra had to run. Again.

Quickly, she stuffed some food from the kitchen into a small bag, along with a knife and a blanket. As she reached for a water bag, a strange pain shot through her wrist.

"Ow!" she gasped, dropping the flask.

The pain increased, spreading up her arm. Astra rolled up her sleeve and watched in horror as dark marks started to appear on her skin, forming a pattern like a crescent moon surrounded by stars.

Her heart nearly stopped.

A mate mark.

It was impossible. Rogues didn't get mate points. They didn't get mates at all. Yet there it was, burning itself into her skin like a brand.

Somewhere out there, a werewolf had just turned twenty-five—the age when men could sense their mates—and that werewolf was connected to her.

The front door shook. Voices approached.

"Kron! You in there? We caught one of the rogues that's been stealing from the eastern region!"

Astra froze. More pack dogs. If they found her with Master Kron knocked out and a fresh mate mark on her arm...

The mate mark throbbed, pulling her attention northward, toward the areas of the most powerful packs in the land.

Toward danger. Toward fate.

Outside, the handle turned.