Chapter 3
Mo
The forest is quiet now, save for the distant rustle of critters moving through the night. My breath is still ragged, my lungs burning, but I’ve bought myself time. Just enough to get out of sight. My body aches after the chase, but that’s nothing new. I’ve lived with pain for a long time.
I crouch beneath a twisted oak, its gnarled branches weaving overhead, and take a moment to listen. My senses strain for any sign of pursuit. The wind carries nothing—no alpha assholes.
For now, at least, I’m alone.
Alone.
The word tastes bitter in my mouth. I’ve grown used to solitude, chosen it even. Better to be alone than trapped. Better free than at the mercy of someone stronger.
I swipe at the dirt on my cheek, wiping away sweat and grime, when the memory creeps in unbidden on the walk home.
Sophie had always been the stronger one. Smarter, too. Beautiful, and she knew how to play the game. Navigate the twisted power dynamics of the pack. Keep her mouth shut when it mattered.
Omegas are rare. Our mom was a beta, nothing special in the pack’s eyes, but she carried two omega daughters, and that made her valuable.
When the new alpha took over, he tried to breed her for more, but she died in childbirth when I was only thirteen.
The pup didn’t survive either. Sophie was sixteen at the time, and she took our mother’s place in the pack to keep the alpha happy.
I wasn’t anything like my older sister. I never had the patience for false smiles. I was always just the feral little sister. Too wild, too impulsive.
But Sophie made it look easy… until she didn’t.
I was just about to turn eighteen when the alpha killed her.
It shattered something in me, and I’ve never figured out how to put it back together.
Sophie had served him and been loyal to him.
And he destroyed her the second he thought she’d betrayed him.
He didn’t even bother to find out if the lies were true.
I watched the light leave her eyes as he crushed her throat. Her beautiful face twisted in pain and disbelief.
And I could do nothing. I stood there frozen while he tore my sister away from me.
Grief turned to rage. All I had was fire and the need to make him pay. Sloppy. Untrained. A fool.
I lunged, grabbed the nearest weapon I could find, and went straight for his throat.
I should’ve known better. I was outmatched before I even swung.
He laughed, and seconds later, he had me pinned to the ground, his boot crushing my chest, sneering down at me like I was nothing. “Go ahead,” he’d said, his voice low and mocking. “Try it again. See what happens.”
I had already been deemed damaged long before that.
Unworthy. Ruined. So he didn’t kill me. He locked me in a cold, dark cell for weeks, then auctioned me to the highest bidder.
Not executed. Not spared. Sold. Like livestock, as if my only value was what was between my legs.
A final profit for the alpha who’d already taken everything from me.
He knew he couldn’t keep me. I would have stopped at nothing to make him pay. So he sold me to a sadistic bastard known for treating his omegas like dirt, breaking them down until they were nothing but hollow shells.
I wasn’t going to be one of them. I’d rather die.
I escaped moments after they delivered me. The alpha took one look at my scrawny body and laughed. Thought I wouldn’t have the wits or the guts to run.
Yeah, underestimate me, you fucking prick.
I bolted into the forest with nothing but the clothes on my back, knowing only one thing for sure. I’d never trust another alpha again.
I pull myself out of the past as the cave comes into view.
The woods have been my home ever since—three years of sheltering me in ways the packs never could.
Here, I’m free. I’ve survived on my own.
Scavenging what I need. Stealing when I have to.
The rare, unlucky campers who wander too far from civilization are nothing but opportunities.
Food. Clothes. Weapons. They leave their gear unattended long enough, and I take what I need.
No remorse. No hesitation.
I’ve built a life out here. Rough and brutal, but mine. My wolf can run free and hunt wherever she wants.
No alphas in sight for miles. I just wish I could have a hot shower now and again.
My stomach grumbles, but I’m too tired to hunt. I pull back the branches that hide the entrance to a small, hidden alcove I’ve called home for three years. A tent, a fire pit, a few stolen supplies. It keeps me alive.
I unzip the flap and crawl inside. Exhaustion hits all at once. My limbs are heavy, and every joint protests, but there’s a nagging in the back of my mind—the urge to run right now. But I’m spent.
Tomorrow I’ll find a new cave further away. Tomorrow, I’ll run again.
I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
* * *
I zip up the backpack and stuff in the last of my supplies.
Fuck, I’m gonna miss this place.
I glance at the pile of firewood I spent weeks chopping, each log stacked so carefully by the mouth of the cave. All that work—wasted. Another home I’ve got to leave behind.
But I can’t stay. The alphas are coming.
“Goddamn animals,” I mutter, kicking at one of the logs.
My first winter was brutal. Huddled in the cave, burning the last of my firewood, wrapped in that threadbare blanket.
I remember the shitty book I found in a hiker’s pack.
Some pirate fantasy. Total trash. But it was something to distract me on those endless cold nights.
I shove the nostalgia down. There’s no time for that.
I trudge to the icy brook nearby. The water bites at my skin as I scrub myself raw, washing away any lingering scent. I shiver, breath coming out in harsh puffs of steam, but I can’t leave a trail. Clean clothes on, pack on my back, I set my sights north.
“Try to track me now, you bastards,” I growl, teeth chattering.
One last look at my home. My throat tightens, but I push it aside. There’s a cave a few days north that I found on one of my scouting trips. Enough cover. Close to fresh water. It’ll do.
The terrain gets worse with every hour. Dense underbrush tears at my clothes. Jagged rocks make every step a gamble. By the end of the first day, my legs are trembling, my calves burn, and my lungs feel flayed raw.
By the second day, my feet are blistered and my mouth is dry. Water ran out hours ago. Every step feels like dragging dead weight. Each movement is slower than the last.
The forest stretches in every direction, endless and indifferent. I keep moving anyway, even as my body starts to fail me.
I grit my teeth. “Keep going,” I tell myself.
Three days. Feels like three lifetimes. Every part of me aches, and my stomach is a hollow, gnawing void.
I stumble through the brush, head foggy and feet clumsy, when I finally spot it—the cave entrance. Relief hits hard, but exhaustion swallows it just as fast. My legs nearly buckle as I cross the threshold, damp stone and earth filling my nose.
“Well, ain’t this cozy,” I say, my voice hoarse.
I drop my backpack with a heavy thud. Finally.
I unzip it and pull out my bedroll with shaking hands. “Bet those flee bags are pissing themselves trying to find me.”
I barely get the bedroll down before my body gives out. I crawl inside, limbs heavy, every joint locked up.
“Tomorrow,” I mumble, barely able to keep my eyes open. “Tomorrow, we explore. And eat.”
My stomach growls in protest, but sleep pulls me under before I can think too hard about it.