Terror rushes back so hard I can barely think. The alphas. They found me. Already.
I bolt, tearing through the underbrush as their footsteps crash after me into the trees. “Run, little rabbit!” one of them calls. “But we’re taking you home, whether you like it or not.”
The irony isn’t lost on me. Minutes ago, I was the one hunting rabbits. Now I’m the fucking rabbit.
“Fuck you!” I snarl over my shoulder, pushing my body harder. Every muscle screams, but stopping isn’t an option.
I leap over a rotting log, bare feet barely skimming the ground, every sense cranked to maximum.
But their heavy footfalls keep coming.
Relentless assholes.
“You can’t outrun us forever, little one!” a gruff voice calls, closer than I’d like.
I veer left, pushing through the densest part of the forest where the undergrowth is thick enough to slow them down. My lungs burn with each breath, and my legs are starting to shake. Exhaustion is creeping in.
The masked alphas are in hot pursuit, hulking forms tearing through branches that would stop a smaller man cold. I move through the gaps they can’t fit through, slipping between trunks, ducking under fallen trees. But I know, with sick certainty, that they’re closing in.
“Spread out!” the lead alpha orders. Even muffled by his mask, his voice sends a chill through me. “Cut her off!”
Fuck. My mind races, searching for any way out. I change direction, darting between two oaks, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Stop running—we’re here to help!” another voice shouts.
I grit my teeth and refuse to answer. I need every ounce of energy to stay ahead.
But when I burst into a small clearing, my stomach drops.
They’re waiting for me. They herded me here on purpose.
Four towering figures surround me. All of them in those stupid masks. A Jason hockey mask. A demon. A skeleton. And that fucking creepy clown.
The one in the hockey mask steps forward, ice-blue eyes flashing through the eyeholes.
“No more running,” he says. “You’re coming with us.”
I bare my teeth, crouching low, body coiled tight. “I’ll die before I submit to you, bastards!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” the one in the demon mask purrs, “who said anything about dying?”
My wolf whines inside me, urging me to submit, but I shove the instinct down. I won’t give in. I can’t.
The leader steps closer and reaches up slowly to remove the hockey mask.
Fuck.
Yeah, he’s hot. Square jaw, ice-blue eyes, dark hair falling across his forehead.
So what?That doesn’t change anything. If anything, it pisses me off more.
“You’ve led us on quite the chase, omega,” he says. “But this ends now.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, even as a part of me, the part that’s tired of running, tired of sleeping on dirt, tired of being alone, tugs at my resolve. Begging for rest. Begging for something I can’t let myself want.
He steps forward, and I lash out. My fist connects with his jaw, and the crack is satisfying. His head snaps to the side, and for a second, I think maybe I’ve got a shot.
But then his hand shoots out and closes around my wrist, halting me before I can swing again. He yanks me forward, and I collide with his chest, letting out a startled gasp. His eyes flash not with anger, but with something else. Want.