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?”

I've done it a hundred times, in a hundred different places, and I've never once had to think about it this hard before. Running would save him. It would save me. That's the only thought that matters. If I'm gone before the rite starts, there's nothing left to prove and nothing left to fail. No false bond. No broken law. No reason for anyone to punish the only man who's ever stood for me. Leaving is the right thing to do. It's the only thing I know how to do well. Even if it costs me the only warmth I've felt in months. I think of my mother, who never got the chance to run. She stayed until the truth finally crushed her instead. I've spent three months making sure that never happens to me.

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?”

Someone was monitoring her, that’s for sure. “I will not let anyone get in the way with this. Mark my words.” With the tickets on her hand, she will make her dreams come true and bring her mother to Canada. Just hold on a bit longer. She kissed her forehead. “We’re gonna run away from this mafia business. I promise you.”

I claim out loud. I sound insane, but I feel like one! The sun is barely rising. It must be no later than seven in the morning; my mother must be serving coffee and freshly baked bread. She’s going to kill me. I run my hands through my hair, which is messy and full of grass. I hastily take it off as I start walking home. As if by magic, my future husband comes to mind: his cold, steely gaze. Today is my wedding! I drop the delicacy and make my escape, desperate, running to my home to shower and try to go unnoticed. I run through the trees, who seem to judge me. The squirrels see me, furious. The birds sing a melody of prejudice and infidelity.