Runner Stories Novels & Stories

A wrongness. I feel it in my bones. I push harder. A sharp pain slices through my chest. I gasp. Then it stops. A knock. Softer this time. I don’t answer. Another knock. “Luna.” I stand slowly and open the door. A runner stands there, breathless, eyes wide. “They’re moving,” he says. “The rogues. And we lost track of them.” My pulse spikes. “Lost them how.” “They split,” he says. “And we don’t know who reaches them first.”

I've spent three months making sure that never happens to me. I slip out through the back path Mara described, and for a while my feet move like they've been waiting all day for permission. The trees close in fast, cutting off the last of the torchlight behind me. My legs remember this rhythm better than anything else, the cold air, the uneven ground, I ran like this the night I met Kael. I don't let myself think about him. Thinking about him is how I get caught. Then something in my chest pulls tight, sudden and sharp, like a hand closing around a rope I didn't know I was holding.

“What really happened, Rowan?” Before Rowan could answer, she was suddenly cut off by one of the Ravennites who accompanied the camp. “He got a great many of our own people killed, that’s what happened,” he spoke up harshly as he approached the fire. “The entire team of Runners was slaughtered in only two days. I had a bad feeling his luck would run out eventually, and it has.”

I make sure I have my phone and slip it into my backpack and off I go. I am looking around and taking some pictures when I pull my phone out to check the time. I notice I have twelve unread texts from Jaidyn, Brady, and Gabby. I also have six missed calls from Jaidyn. I don’t bother calling, I am literally back at the bus. “There she is.” I hear Trevor yell. I watch as they all come running towards me. I flinch back a little as they get to me. What is the problem?

Hunters are the ones who are skilled at tracking (search for scents). Sentinel: Sentinels are more like guards and knights. They are skilled at fighting so if there are any troubles with other packs, they will be the one who fights in the first row. They sometimes came along with hunters to hunt food. Their main job is securing the pack's territory so no one is trespassing. In this story, hunters and sentinels don't hunt for food since it's a modern kind of werewolf story so they can just go to the supermarket or something to get food.

Running as if it was nothing, every leaf I stepped into flied creating a small artificial fall. The moon was hiding behind thick clouds as stars are nowhere to be seen. Why am I even running? That is also a thing I am not sure of. A runaway bride or Luna is something I am more familiar with. That thing happened countless of times already. In my tribe, some even says it as joke. A thrill of chasing to make every mate’s bond stronger. How funny, this may be the first ever occurrence of an Alpha, running away in his own wedding.

he said, his voice low and dangerous, "Prepare everything. We leave at once." Damon nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of the same anticipation that coursed through Zach. "The rumors, Alpha? The one of the runaway?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. Zach grinned, a flash of teeth in the semi-darkness of his study. "Oh, she'll be there, Damon. I feel it in my bones. My little runaway will finally be mine." He stood, his gaze piercing and dark.

Miron died on the battlefield. The Starcrest Pack won—but the victory was drenched in blood. That night, Caesar knelt before the graves until dawn, begging for forgiveness, praying Rena might come to him in a dream. But nothing came. Later, he learned from Miron's subordinates that Rena's connection to his uncle had been a financial transaction. So he went back to the graves again, sitting in the cold until morning. He didn't blame her. Not even then. If she would just come back, he'd forgive it all.

Then, there is a shift in the air. The moon begins to ascend into the sky, climbing higher and higher signalling the time is near. Co-ordinators of The Run – mated wolves whose job is to keep us safe – climb onto the cages keeping the problem females captive. They are waiting for the gun shot to release us. Thankfully, the wind is blowing softly from behind us. I could not get any luckier with nature on my side. With my scent blowing away from the males and deep into the forest, I will be able to get away quickly and find a hiding spot that hopefully has gear or food for me to take. With a grin, I slowly climb to my feet and lazily stretch, preparing my body to run because my life depends on

“Your place is only five minutes away and we’ll still get drenched while running from here to the car and while running from the car to the house so...” A sudden squeal from someone behind us made us turn around and I saw a couple of soaked people - three boys and two girls - rush up to the building from the black car that I had seen pull into the parking lot earlier. Abigail and I stepped away from the diner’s door before a birdlike squawk drew my attention back to the group and my heart jumped in my chest when I saw the face of one of the boys. Hell. It was Tyler… Tyler Carson. Also known as the boy that made it his job to torment me before my family and I moved to London and the reason I