She's A Runaway Novels & Stories

If he killed someone by accident, there were plenty of ways, other than getting his claws dirty. Therefore, I finally understood—I was nothing but a fool, laughed at not only by him but by the entire pack. Today's drama was never about love. It was a show, carefully staged… just to humiliate me. As their mocking laughter and applause echoed around me, something inside my chest froze over. I lowered my head, just wanting to disappear. To leave quietly. But then, a she-wolf slowly stepped out from the crowd and stood in front of me, blocking my way.

“She was my sister.” (Tessa’s POV) I reached the field just in time to see movement near the old well. But when I moved closer—there was no one there. Only the echo of two sets of footprints heading toward the southern woods. I followed. Faster now. Please, please don’t let me be too late. (Ignas’ POV) “You’re lying,” I whispered. The woman didn’t flinch. “I wish I were. I was there the night your mother ran. I helped her escape the Flame-Born.”

she whispers relaxing back on her chair She turns to me, her only released fingers cupping mine on the table, “I escaped and I tried to reach you but I couldn’t, so I decided to leave the state, the country, anything to run away from these crazies” she rolls her teary eyes with a scoff “They got to me first though and that night he shot at me, but i think he rethought his plan, He wanted more power over you when the time came and they decided to fake my death instead” She gulps her eyes narrowed at my form

“What about you?” “I’ll hold them off.” He pressed a pistol into her grip, his eyes fierce. “*Run.*” Stephanie fled, the key biting into her palm. The cottage loomed ahead, its door hanging askew. She slipped inside, down the rotted stairs, into the damp cellar. A figure stepped from the shadows. Adriana. “Hello, runaway,” she purred, aiming a sleek silver gun. “Did you really think I’d let you steal *my* ending?”

Runaway, " she blurted out. I tapped my lips a bit. plans to attack. " "I'm not going to put anything past him. Maybe he knows she's here and My mind was reeling from the different instances I came up with. She did say she ran away though "Why did you runaway?" I asked further questions. "Bad guy. " Even though she's not normal, she's just like a little kid. Sounded like one, looked like one... sorta acts like one.

She had to getaway. ***

The booth assignment list. Then, without a backward glance, she turned and ran. It wasn’t a shy retreat, nor a nervous shuffle. It was the desperate flight of someone being hunted—she ran through the Midway with the reckless, blind speed of a someone escaping a burning building, her braid whipping behind her as she darted between vendor tents and startled, shouting pack members.

She knows it hurts but hopefully, she can do it. She willingly separated from his embrace. If she stays in this place for a long time, she might do something bad to her husband. In that case, she should just run. Running into a problem, she doesn't know what will happen next. Frances Runaway she didn't know where she was going. It's as if the cycle of time has slowed down because she's been crying for a while now and there's no stopping it. She thinks she will run and cry like crazy. And the truth is, she didn't feel tired at all. All she really wanted was to not stop running because if she did it would look like Jon was right behind her. She ran as fast as she could.

Her legs were bleeding, her ribs ached and her heart felt like it might burst but she didn’t stop. Just that morning, she had stood in front of a mirror dressed in white silk, perfect makeup, a beautiful bride, a dutiful daughter, a sacrifice. She stood in a church, surrounded by flowers, lights, and smiles that didn’t reach her eyes. Now? A runaway. “You’re doing this,” she whispered aloud, pushing through dripping leaves. Now, she was nothing but a runaway bride. “Camela!” another voice called. Closer, familiar. She froze. That voice. Vincent Castellano

She traced its edges, lost in whatever past she had been avoiding for so long. “She was a runaway, or at least that's what she told me.” She finally said, voice quiet but firm, “A woman with no home, no name, even if she had, she didn't tell me no matter how much I asked. When I first found her, she was already pregnant, barely holding on. She had wounds on her body, some deep, some old. She was terrified of everything and everyone.” A runaway? My stomach twisted, “Do you remember what she called herself?”