Chapter 7
Sera
My boots slammed relentlessly against the slick pavement, breath tearing painfully from my chest as I sprinted through the shadowed streets. My pulse thundered wildly in my ears, adrenaline and exhaustion warring inside me. Every muscle screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, refusing to yield.
I glanced over my shoulder, quickly assessing the distance between myself and the wolves hunting me. My heart surged when I realized there were only three still trailing me, their sleek wolf forms barely visible in the darkness, fur rippling like dark silk beneath the moonlight.
A rush of triumph flooded through my veins, bolstering my flagging strength. I’d managed to take two down. They had to be injured, if not killed outright. That would slow them down and give me some breathing room.
But even as a surge of grim pride buoyed me forward, my body began betraying me. My legs trembled beneath me, muscles burning, each stride harder than the last. My lungs burned from lack of air, every breath searing painfully in my side, my pulse a frantic drumbeat pounding in my temples.
Still, I refused to slow. I knew wolves too well to imagine they’d give up easily. Once locked onto a target, their focus was unbreakable. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as another thought struck me, something instinctual that had begun nagging me at the edges of my consciousness.
This chase wasn’t normal.
I’d hunted wolves before. I knew their instincts intimately.
I knew how they hunted, how they fought, how they thought, but this pack, these wolves, they were different.
They chased me with a fervor I’d never witnessed before, desperation and need radiating tangibly through their every step, breath, and howl.
A realization surged like a lightning strike through me, dread pooling coldly in my stomach. I’d seen the signs before, studied them. I’d heard the whispers from the shadows.
Wolves only chased this hard, fought this ferociously, when hunting their mate.
I stumbled over a piece of wreckage, pulse spiking as panic spiraled through my veins.
Impossible. It couldn’t be true.
I was a hunter, trained from youth to protect humanity from the shifter threat. I’d lost my brother—my world—to wolves like these. Becoming their mate was unthinkable.
Yet, the frantic pursuit, the strange electricity that rushed through me every time I glimpsed the dark-haired alpha, the red-haired rogue, or the soldier with the piercing eyes told me otherwise.
My heart clenched painfully, conflict burning within me.
I glanced back again, my stomach tightening with panic.
They’d closed the distance significantly, their unrelenting forms surging forward, determined eyes gleaming beneath the pale moonlight.
I recognized them clearly now—the massive black wolf at the center, Logan Yorke; the sandy-furred one beside him, Jamie; and the sleek, black-furred wolf with a white patch on his chest and steely eyes, the soldier, Edward.
My pulse thundered wildly as I pushed forward, but my fatigue was deepening, my body beginning to falter despite my desperate will to keep going.
They drew inexorably closer, their movements perfectly coordinated. They moved like a unit, herding me subtly toward narrower streets, toward isolation, into their control.
Fear mingled with primal terror deep inside me, heat coiling uncomfortably low in my stomach. The fierce possessiveness burning in their gazes, the intensity of their pursuit…
They’d recognized their mate.
Me.
My vision blurred, terror tightening my chest. I had to escape, had to run harder, faster. Mate or not, I couldn’t allow them to catch and claim me.
I leaped nimbly over a rusted gate, landing roughly and stumbling slightly before regaining my footing. Every muscle trembled violently with exhaustion, heart racing, lungs heaving painfully.
“Not like this,” I whispered raggedly to myself, desperate and driven. “Not now.”
Even as I spoke, though, I knew deep down I was losing ground. The wolves were too close, too powerful. They’d hunt me until they caught me, no matter how far I ran.
The narrow street ahead suddenly widened into a shadowy dead end, brick walls looming starkly around me. Terror spiked violently through my veins as I realized I’d played straight into their hands, herded exactly where they wanted.
I skidded sharply to a halt, chest heaving painfully, pulse hammering wildly, turning slowly to face the wolves that were closing in. They slowed, shifting seamlessly into human form as they stepped forward from the shadows, eyes glittering beneath the moonlight.
The three of them were naked, their cocks stiff between their thighs as they stalked toward me.
Logan stepped toward me first, his dark gaze blazing with intensity, possessiveness, and resolve so fierce my breath caught roughly in my throat. I’d studied him thoroughly before ever stepping foot into Dublin, memorized every detail of his file, every trait and weakness I could exploit.
The red-haired one flanked him, his bright blue eyes glittering with interest: Jamie Buchanan, the skilled mercenary who’d made a living extracting wolves from dangerous zones. My intel on him was meticulous; he was agile, fast, resourceful, and dangerously unpredictable.
And beside them, Edward Fairchild stood poised, the elite British operative tasked originally with delivering Logan to this godforsaken place.
Military to the bone, disciplined, cunning, trained to kill swiftly and silently.
He was perhaps the most dangerous, with his cold eyes and unbreakable control.
I knew all their names, their histories, their strengths, and their weaknesses, because it was my mission to know them, to track them, neutralize the threat they represented, and eliminate them if necessary.
Now, seeing them standing here, surrounding me in this darkened dead-end alley, my breath faltered. I’d trained and prepared meticulously for every scenario.
Every scenario except this one.
Logan moved slowly toward me, every powerful step radiating authority. His voice emerged low, rough, commanding.
“Enough running, little mate. We’ve chased you far enough.”
I raised my chin defiantly, masking the wild pounding of my heart. “I’m no one’s mate,” I sneered. “Least of all yours.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed, his voice cold yet strangely compelling. “Deny it all you want, but you know the truth.”
Jamie stepped forward slowly, eyes reflecting intelligence and a touch of humor, almost teasing. “Aye. The chase wouldn’t feel like this otherwise.”
My breath rasped unevenly, heart thundering, trapped between fury and this rising, unwanted attraction.
Logan’s voice cut through the quiet again, every word tinged with raw dominance. “You’re ours, whether you accept it yet or not.”
They moved forward as one, united by instinct and desire. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, fight, resist, but another unfamiliar part of me whispered something dangerously tempting.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe it was inevitable.
Maybe this was a fight I couldn’t win.
Edward moved first, quickly and efficiently, stepping into my space and twisting my wrist expertly.
Pain flashed hotly through my forearm as the blade slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly onto the pavement.
Jamie closed in swiftly at my side, his grip firm and unyielding as he stripped the rifle from my back, eyes dancing dangerously, a mischievous smirk curving his lips.
“Easy now, love,” he murmured. “No need for weapons anymore, yeah?”
Logan stood directly before me, unmoving, expression intense as his dark eyes burned into mine.
His nearness sent my pulse stuttering unevenly, a primal and traitorous warmth fluttering low in my belly.
My heartbeat roared in my ears, fight-or-flight instinct clawing desperately against an undeniable pull of desire.
But even now that I was disarmed and trapped, they made no further move toward me.
They didn’t seize or force me down, didn’t tear into me with the brutality I’d always been told wolves were capable of.
They simply stood close, watching me with heated interest, as if waiting for my permission—or for my inevitable acceptance.
I didn’t know.
My mind raced wildly, confusion and suspicion mingling together in a fraying tightrope of fear.
Why hadn’t they already claimed me and forced me into submission as I’d expected them to?
The part of me that was a hunter—a professional, trained assassin—was thrown, irritated, and utterly confused by their hesitation.
Another part of me—one I fiercely wanted to deny—was more unsettled. A strange mix of irritation and arousal tightened low inside me, hot and uncomfortable, at odds with the adrenaline still surging through my veins.
I lifted my chin defiantly, trying to control my rapid breathing, meeting Logan’s gaze squarely.
“Well?” I snapped, trying to mask my inner turmoil with false bravado. “Isn’t this the part where you rip me apart?”
Logan’s lips twisted into a faint smirk, eyes glittering dangerously beneath the moonlight. “If we’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”
Edward’s cool voice came softly from beside me, confident and calm. “That’s not what we want.”
Jamie chuckled, gaze lingering appreciatively, his voice teasing but sincere. “No, killing you wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as what we want.”
I fought the shiver that trailed down my spine at their words, resistance, arousal, and confusion warring within me. Who the hell were these wolves, and why had fate bound me—of all people—to them?
I was losing control.
I was in deeper trouble than I’d ever imagined I could be.
“I think you know what happens now, little mate,” Logan growled softly, each word dripping with possessiveness.
Defiance flared hot and wild within me, igniting the ferocious spark of rebellion that had kept me alive this long. I tilted my chin up again, locking gazes with him.