Chapter 4: Freedom's Price II

"A deal?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think you're in a position to negotiate?"

"I think I'm in a position to crush your heir's balls," she replied calmly. "So yes, I think I can negotiate."

Theron made a strangled sound. Whether of pain or humiliation, she couldn't tell.

"What do you want?" Alpha Aldric asked, each word forced through clenched teeth.

"Swear," Lyralei said. "Swear on your honor, in front of everyone here, that you'll give me five minutes to escape. Five minutes before you send anyone after me."

"Five minutes?" He barked a harsh laugh. "You must think me a fool."

She squeezed. Theron cried out, his knees buckling slightly.

"Alright!" Alpha Aldric shouted. "Alright, stop!"

"Swear it," Lyralei insisted. "On your honor. In front of your pack. Five minutes."

She watched him struggle with the words, his jaw working, a vein throbbing in his temple. Finally, he spat out, "One minute. That's all I can promise."

"Five."

"One."

She squeezed again. Theron sobbed.

"Two minutes," Alpha Aldric ground out. "And that's final. I swear it on my honor as Alpha."

It wasn't much. It wasn't nearly enough. But it would have to do.

"Fine," Lyralei said. She looked down at Theron, at this monster who'd haunted her nightmares. "Get on your knees."

He dropped immediately, his legs giving out from pain and relief. Before he could recover and before anyone could move, she pulled her arm back and punched him as hard as she could across the base of his skull.

His head snapped to the side and he collapsed, out cold.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved. The entire pack stood frozen, staring at their unconscious future Alpha sprawled in the dirt.

Then Lyralei straightened, smoothed down her dress, and calmly tore the fabric at knee level so she could actually run. The silk ripped easily, and she kicked the excess material aside.

She looked directly at Alpha Aldric, at the guards, at all the pack members who'd let Theron hurt so many for so long.

Then she flicked him the finger and ran.

She heard the eruption behind her, shouts of outrage and disbelief and fury. But she was already moving, her feet hitting the forest floor, branches whipping past her face as she plunged into the darkness between the trees.

Two minutes. She had two minutes before they came after her.

Her mind raced as she ran, trying to remember the territory layout. She needed to get far enough away that they couldn't track her easily. Needed to find somewhere to hide, or better yet, somewhere to cross into neutral territory where pack law didn't apply.

But then she thought of something else. Something that made her skid to a stop, breathing hard, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear the sounds of pursuit beginning behind her.

Her manuscript. The last one she'd written. The ending to her story that she'd hidden because Theron had discovered her secret.

It was hidden in the old oak tree near the eastern border. Wrapped in oilcloth and buried in a hollow, protected from the weather. She'd meant to retrieve it and maybe burn it after the wedding, before Theron could find it and use it against her somehow.

Now might be her only chance to save it.

Lyralei changed direction, angling toward the eastern border. It would cost her precious seconds from her two-minute head start. It was foolish and reckless and completely irrational.

But that manuscript was the only thing left in this world that was truly hers. Her words. Her story. Her dreams written down in ink and hope.

She couldn't leave it behind.

The trees thinned slightly as she approached the border area. She could see the old oak tree, massive and ancient, its roots spreading across the forest floor like gnarled fingers. She'd discovered the hollow when she was twelve, had used it as a hiding spot for her journals and stories ever since.

Lyralei dropped to her knees beside the tree, her fingers scrabbling in the hollow. Please be there, please still be there, please...

Her hand closed around the oilcloth package. Relief flooded through her so strongly she almost sobbed. She pulled it out, clutching it to her chest.

Then she heard the howl.

Long and mournful and absolutely terrifying, it echoed through the forest. The hunting howl. Her two minutes were up.

Lyralei shoved the manuscript into the front of her dress where it would stay relatively secure, and ran.

She ran like her parents had taught her, light on her feet, using the shadows and avoiding the obvious paths. She ran like her life depended on it, because it did. She could hear them behind her now, crashing through the undergrowth, their senses so much sharper than hers and their speed so much greater.

She tried every trick she could think of. Doubled back on her trail. Ran through a stream to hide her scent. Climbed a tree and jumped to another to confuse the tracking. But they were trained hunters, and she was one woman running for her life.

They were gaining on her. She could hear them getting closer, could hear individual voices now calling to each other, coordinating their search.

The forest opened up ahead of her and her heart sank. She'd reached Widow's Cliff. The sheer rock face dropped away into darkness, and far below she could hear the rush of the river, churning and violent where it cut through the gorge.

She'd run out of places to go.

Lyralei turned, her back to the cliff edge, as wolves emerged from the tree line. First a few scouts, then more, then a flood of them. Guards and warriors and pack members, all of them forming a semicircle around her, trapping her against the drop.

Then Alpha Aldric himself stepped through the crowd, his face twisted with rage.

"Nowhere left to run," he said, his voice cold and deadly. "You've assaulted my son. Humiliated our pack in front of our guests. Violated every law we hold sacred." He took a step toward her. "I'm going to make an example of you. I'm going to make you beg for death before I grant it."

He smiled, and it was the cruelest expression she'd ever seen. "Maybe I'll let Theron have you first. Let him break you properly before we execute you for treason."

Lyralei looked at him, at the pack surrounding her, at this life that had tried so hard to cage her. The moon hung huge and bright above them, casting silver light across the scene. The night sky was beautiful, scattered with stars that seemed to go on forever.

She'd never get to finish her book now. Never get to see how the story ended. Never know if her heroine found the freedom she'd been searching for.

But at least she'd fought. At least she hadn't gone quietly.

Alpha Aldric took another step toward her, his hand reaching out.

Everything seemed to slow down. She could see every detail with perfect clarity. The rage in his eyes. The anticipation on the faces of the crowd. The edge of the cliff just behind her heels. The manuscript pressed against her chest, the pages of her unfinished story warm against her skin.

Lyralei smiled. It was probably the first genuine smile she'd worn in three years.

"Fuck you," she said clearly.

Then she spread her arms wide, looked up at that beautiful sky one last time, and let herself fall backward into the darkness below.