Chapter 4 4

Lauren crouched in the shadows behind the mess hall, heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Her breath misted in the cold air as she glanced around the Bloodmoon pack grounds for what might be the final time.

Every building was etched into her memory-stone and timber structures that had housed her nightmares for eighteen years. The tall watchtower, where she'd once been lashed for speaking out of turn. The barracks, where warriors lounged and laughed while she scrubbed floors till her hands bled. And the Alpha's house... her prison.

Her brand.

The wound Ryder had left on her neck still ached, but the burn had dulled into something deeper-an emotional rot she couldn't scrape away. His mark throbbed in time with her pulse, an invisible leash she swore she'd sever.

She clutched the cloth sack tighter in her hand, feeling the stolen bread, dried meat, and small knife within. Her fingers trembled, not from fear-but from fury. From desperation.

Tonight, she wasn't just escaping a pack.

She was escaping a fate she had never chosen.

She was escaping him.

---

The plan had come together in stolen moments. Whispers with Beatrice, one of the laundresses, who had offered to distract the guards for a few minutes after midnight. A stolen map from the archives. Her memory of the woods-of old border paths wolves rarely used anymore. Most importantly: her silence.

No one else knew.

The fewer who knew, the less likely Ryder would sniff her out before she crossed the border.

But she wasn't naive.

She knew this might fail.

And she knew failure meant death-or worse-being dragged back by Ryder's men and caged like a prized animal. Marked again. Broken.

She wouldn't let that happen.

***

The wind howled low as she slipped through the eastern gate, careful to keep to the tree line. Her wolf, though weak from lack of full transformation, stirred in her chest. It wasn't strong enough to shift yet, but it could lend her speed. Endurance. Her senses sharpened, her ears pricking with every snapped twig, every whispering branch.

The moonlight offered just enough visibility, and her feet knew the terrain. She darted through the woods, breath ragged, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low branches. For a heartbeat, she almost believed she might make it.

Until she heard the howl.

A long, mournful sound that froze her in place.

Then another.

And another.

They had found her.

Her legs screamed in protest as she broke into a sprint. Her lungs burned, but she didn't stop, not when she heard paws pounding behind her. They were in wolf form. Fast. Lethal.

She had maybe five minutes.

Maybe less.

Her eyes scanned the forest for the marker stone-an ancient, moss-covered slab carved with the insignia of Redclaw territory. It should be just ahead. She could almost smell the faint scent of unfamiliar wolves, could feel the edge of the magical boundary pulsing like a heartbeat in the earth.

But before she could reach it, something slammed into her from the side.

She hit the forest floor with a sharp cry, her shoulder erupting in pain as she rolled through the underbrush. A snarl filled her ears.

One of Ryder's wolves stood above her, massive and silver-eyed, drool dripping from its snarling maw.

He lunged.

Lauren raised the small knife in her hand and slashed upward.

The blade sliced across the beast's chest. It yelped and reeled back, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

She scrambled to her feet and ran, blood from her arm soaking into her sleeve.

Another wolf emerged from the trees. This one struck her from behind, jaws clamping down on her calf. She screamed and kicked, twisting and stabbing with her knife until she felt it release.

Her vision blurred with tears and pain, but the stone-the border-was right there.

With a final, desperate push, Lauren crossed it.

She collapsed on the Redclaw side, gasping, trembling, broken.

The wolves skidded to a halt, unable to follow. The magic shimmered like heat in the air between them. She could hear their growls of frustration, see their glowing eyes watching her.

Then-just like that-they turned and vanished into the trees.

*****

Lauren lay still for a long time, afraid to move, afraid the pain might overwhelm her. Blood pooled beneath her leg. Her shoulder throbbed. The taste of iron filled her mouth.

But she had made it.

She had escaped.

The border hum beneath her skin confirmed it.

She wanted to laugh. Or sob. Or scream.

But all she could do was whisper: "I'm free."

Then her eyes rolled back, and darkness claimed her.

****

She woke to warmth.

Softness.

A faint scent of pine and cedar, heavy and masculine, drifted in the air. Her body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together. Her leg was bound. Her shoulder cleaned. Her feverish skin cooled with wet cloth.

A voice broke through the haze. Deep. Calm.

"She's waking."

Lauren's eyes fluttered open.

A man stood above her, tall and broad-shouldered, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome, but it wasn't the kind of beauty one admired from afar- it was the kind that commanded attention. Authority radiated from him like heat.