Chapter 4

I ran.

I have been running my whole life. I ran as the slave I was for the sick game the Alpha and his lackeys played for the sake of their amusement. I ran like there was no tomorrow, and there might very well not be if I wasn't fast enough. I ran...because I didn't want to die.

One would think I after ten years, I would have long been used to this. And I was used to it. The running part. After a decade of literally running for a living, I have become so fast I can confidently say I could outrun any Lycan that called the Simmerian Forest home. I never thought to time myself to know exactly how fast I had gotten since I began this macabre game (I mean, who brings a stopwatch to a goddess damned death race?), but I know I am pretty damn fast. Countless times Jared's mindless goons had been looking to use me as their punching bag to burn off their aggression. Countless times they caught me when I tried to run. They caught me again and again, till one day they couldn't. At first I had thought it was a fluke. I escaped them again the next day. The day after that, they ate my dust. It took another three more times for them and me, to gain the memo. That's about the only positive to come out from this considerably deadly cat and mouse I played with the Rogues. So yeah, I got used to the running. What I haven't gotten used to? The fear. Oh that overpowering emotion, that dreaded feeling that makes my heart beat so fast it becomes agonizingly painful. I can't count the number of times it I literally felt Death breathing down my neck. The number of times I've been under maddened fangs of rogues, felt my flesh being ripped by sharp claws and concussions from being continuously rammed by their huge bodies. Yeah, I definitely haven't gotten used to that.

   Now here I am, doing my very possible best to stay alive, to stay one step ahead of my pursuers who were hot on my hills. I hadn't shifted yet, I haven't given my wolf control of my body yet. It was not yet time. If ten years of being bait had thought me anything, is that my wolf doesn't stand a chance alone against multiple wolves. And they were too many right now. So I had made compromise. I decided not to let my wolf fight alone. If the rogues could hunt me together, the  I and my wolf could escape them. Together.  It's what's kept us alive all these years.

A rogue finally caught up to me. He was basically running side by side with me, and despite the odds being so against me, I palmed the blade that was always in the side of my bag, preparing myself for the fight.

Someone tackled me from behind, and I hit the ground hard, the solid weight of a wolf on my back. Fuck! Spinning over, I kicked at the smaller wolf, realizing this must be a female.

She didn’t hesitate to attack, and I wanted to scream as her claws and teeth slashed into my skin. Swinging my blade, I sliced through the fur, and crawled from under her.

My blade glanced off the dense fur that protected her hide, and she snapped at my throat, but I managed to lodge my arm in her mouth to stop her. It cost me arm skin, but unlike my throat, that wasn’t going to kill me.

The wolf was a dark grey color—hair color often dictated fur color, and I had no idea who was grey in the pack. She was average size, too, about six feet long and two feet tall, with deep brown eyes. “Get off me,” I growled, and with unknown strength, I managed to knock her back so I could crawl to my feet.

Blood sprinkled the ground, and even in the darkening sky, I could tell that it was from more than just a few scrapes. Bitch had hit something important; something to worry about tomorrow, if I was still alive to care.

Sprinting as best I could, I welcomed the surge of adrenaline, knowing it might be all that got me through.

I kept hearing more howls, the sound and scent of wolves all around, but I tunneled my vision and didn’t look back.

When I burst out into a small open clearing, the last slivers of moonlight bathed across me, and my wolf howled in my chest. It was early morning on the eve of the full moon, and that was the best news I could have gotten. Not only was it energizing to my wolf, it did wonders for my state of mind, granting me enough motivation to push through the aches in my body and giving me enough boost to shift my form..

Sprinting across the icy lawn, I ignored the sharp bite of air across my bare skin. My clothes were torn and tattered, but thankfully, the same ones I’d been wearing when I’d been attacked… almost a week ago. If the moon was any indication.

Howls rang out in the woods, followed by the distinct sound of wolves shifting in the early morning air. My packmates had joined the hunt. Only they were hunting those hunting me. I picked up speed, my feet barely touching the ground as my wolf lingered closer to the surface than I’d ever felt before, lending me her strength, speed, and senses.

When I reached the forest, my wolf’s excitement increased. We liked being surrounded by nature like this, and it would help to obscure our trail. They’d still track my scent, of course, but in here there were ways to slow them down.

Ducking and dodging, I almost lost my balance as the occasional bout of dizziness hit me, but I held my shit together long enough to reach the wide creek. Without hesitation, I dove into the water.

Gah. It was so cold. The sort of cold that felt like I’d been struck with a taser, shocking my system to life. The sort of cold that drained your life and energy if you let it.

But I wasn’t ready to die today.

Kicking hard, I swam to the surface, gasping for air as my head popped up. Wolves, as a general rule, were not amazing swimmers. The density of our beast was a magic that transferred to our human forms, but I had always loved to swim.

I also loved that it masked my scent, and very few had the capabilities to follow me in the stream. Pushing through the numbing sensations in my limbs, I started to swim, staying below the surface as much as possible. No real predators lived in these fresh waters, so all I had to keep an eye out for was debris and the pack.

At one point, the rapids pushed me along and I took a few moments to relax and regain some energy. Just up ahead, there was a bend in the bank, and it was here I planned on crawling out.

I had clearly underestimated how hurt I was, though, because when I attempted to grasp on to the edge of the bank, there just wasn’t enough strength in my grip to beat the incessant pull of the undertow.

My fight wasn’t completely gone, but no matter how hard I struggled, I kept losing traction.

Then my fingers went limp as the current finally tore me from the bank.