Runaway Luna

The rain hammered against the windows of Alexander Blackwood's office. I should've been home hours ago, but here I was at 2:30 AM, organizing files that apparently couldn't wait until Monday morning. Typical Alex, I thought, always expecting perfection on his timeline.

I reached for the last folder on his mahogany desk, my fingers brushing against something that made me pause. The label read "Pack Hierarchy & Territory Maps" in Alex's sharp handwriting. Pack? That was... odd. I'd worked as his personal assistant for two years, and I'd never seen anything like this in his corporate files.

Just a quick look, I told myself, flipping it open.

The first page hit me like a slap. A family tree sprawled across the paper, but not the kind you'd expect from a Fortune 500 CEO. Names were connected by lines that led to descriptions like "Current Alpha," "Beta Second," and "Omega Liaison." At the top of the hierarchy, bold and unmistakable, was Alex's photo with the notation: "Alexander Blackwood - Current Alpha, Blackwood Pack."

My hands started shaking. What the hell is this?

I flipped to the next page and found my own photo staring back at me. Underneath, in clinical black text: "Sophia Matthews - Potential Breeder. Monitor Closely. Fertility Status: Pending Confirmation."

The folder slipped from my fingers, papers scattering across the Persian rug. Breeder? The word made my skin crawl. I thought about all those times Alex had insisted on walking me to my car after late nights, how he always seemed to know exactly where I was during lunch breaks, the way his "business associates" would sniff the air when I entered a room.

Oh God. Oh God, no.

My mind raced back through the past few months. Alex's body temperature that ran unnaturally hot. The way he'd get agitated and restless during certain nights each month. How his employees seemed to defer to him with an almost primal fear that went way beyond normal workplace respect. Those golden flecks in his brown eyes that seemed to glow when he was angry.

This is insane. People don't just... they can't be...

But even as I tried to rationalize it away, everything clicked into place with terrifying clarity.

I stumbled toward his private bathroom, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. I'd been carrying a pregnancy test in my purse for three days, too scared to use it. The nausea, the missed period, the exhaustion – I'd been in denial, but now...

Three minutes later, I stared at the pink plus sign with a mixture of terror and disbelief.

Pregnant. I'm pregnant with... with what exactly?

The elevator chimed in the distance, and my blood turned to ice. Alex wasn't supposed to be back from Chicago until tomorrow morning. I quickly shoved the test into my purse and tried to gather the scattered papers, my hands trembling so badly I could barely grip them.

The office door opened with a soft click.

"I can smell your feelings, Sophia."

I froze, my back still turned to him. His voice carried that low, rumbling quality that I'd always found attractive but now made every instinct scream danger. Slowly, I turned around.

Alex stood in the doorway, his usually perfect hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled from travel. But it was his eyes that made my breath catch – they were glowing with an amber light that definitely wasn't human.

"And you've been reading things you shouldn't."

"I was just organizing your files," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "Like you asked me to."

He stepped into the room, and I caught something else in his scent – something wild and earthy that I'd never noticed before. Or maybe I had, but I'd convinced myself it was just expensive cologne.

"Sophia." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "I can smell it on you. You're carrying my pup."

The last piece of denial crumbled away. "What are you?" I whispered.

Something shifted in his face, and for a moment, I saw something predatory flash behind those golden eyes. When he smiled, I swear his canine teeth looked sharper than they should.

"I think you already know." He moved closer, and I backed up until my legs hit his desk chair. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"We?" I laughed, but it came out shaky and bitter. "There is no 'we' in this, Alex. This is my body, my choice."

"Not anymore." "You'll be moved to the safe house tomorrow. The child will be raised according to pack traditions. You're under pack protection now – no more human life."

"I'm not your possession!" The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. "I'm not some breeding animal for your... your pack!"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Sophia, you don't understand what you're dealing with. There are rules, hierarchies. I'm trying to protect you."

"By imprisoning me?"

"By giving you the life you were meant for." He reached toward me, but I jerked away. "You've felt it, haven't you? The pull between us? That's not coincidence, sweetheart. That's fate."

Fate. The word made me want to throw something at his perfect face.

Instead, I forced myself to breathe, to think. Play along. Make him believe you're accepting this.

"I... I need time to process this," I said carefully. "It's a lot to take in."

Some of the tension left his shoulders. "Of course. Go home, pack your things. I'll have someone pick you up in the morning."

"I'd like to gather my personal items. Photos, clothes. If I'm... if this is really happening, I want something from my old life."

He studied my face for a long moment, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.

"Two hours," he said finally. "Marcus will drive you home and wait. Don't try anything stupid, Sophia. I'll know."

I nodded, grabbing my purse with hands that barely shook. "I understand."

Like hell I do.

Two hours later, I was crouched in my apartment's bathroom, stuffing cash, my passport, and a change of clothes into a small backpack. I'd already transferred what little savings I had to a cash card and deleted every trace of my digital footprint I could manage.

My phone buzzed. Alex.

"The car will be there in thirty minutes."

"I'll be ready," I texted back.

Ready to disappear.

I slipped out the back fire escape, keeping to the shadows as I made my way to the bus station six blocks away. A Greyhound to Portland left in twenty minutes – far enough from Blackwood territory to maybe, just maybe, give me a chance.

As the bus pulled away from the curb, my phone started ringing. Alex's name flashed on the screen again and again. I turned it off and threw it in a trash can as we passed.

Whatever you are, little one, I thought, pressing my hand to my stomach, you'll grow up free. I promise.

Through the rain-streaked window, I could have sworn I heard something howling in the distance. The hunt had begun.

But for now, I was running toward tomorrow, and that was enough.