The Net Closes
The silence was worse than the chase.
I pressed deeper into the hollow, my knees tucked, fingers curled tight around the knife’s handle. Every creak of the wood felt too loud, every shift of my breath like it might give me away.
The wind had died. The forest held its breath. A faint crunch of leaves came from the left. Slow. Deliberate. My skin prickled.
Another step, closer this time, from the right. My chest tightened. They were here. Both of them.
I forced myself to stay still even as the urge to run clawed at my ribs. My mind whispered that patience was survival, but my body felt like a coiled spring ready to snap.
A shadow moved across one of the bark gaps, broad shoulders, dark hair. He passed so close I could smell him, earth, cedar, and something sharp like ozone before a storm. My heartbeat spiked.
Then a second shadow appeared, paler, moving with the slow grace of a predator that already knew the outcome.
They stopped. And then the oak shook.
A massive hand slammed into the bark above my head, claws scraping deep grooves into the wood. My head snapped up as the second alpha rounded the hollow, crouching low to peer inside. His glowing eyes locked on mine, and something in my stomach flipped.
“Found you,” he said, voice low and rough.
I didn’t think. I moved.
My legs kicked out, connecting with his jaw. He grunted, staggering back, and I used the opening to roll out of the hollow in the opposite direction.
The darker one was already there.
He lunged, and I ducked under his arm, slashing the knife across his side. His snarl was pure animal, but I didn’t stick around to admire my work. I bolted for the thicker brush, my body dodging and weaving like it had been programmed for this exact kind of escape.
Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, too close, too fast.
One of them reached for me, fingers grazing my shoulder. I dropped low without thinking, letting his momentum carry him forward, then rolled under a fallen log. My palms and knees scraped raw, but the move bought me a few precious seconds.
I could hear them regrouping, grunts, low growls, the soft crack of branches under their boots. My lungs pulled in air like a machine, not ragged, not panicked. I was running on something older than memory.
The trees ahead thinned, revealing a narrow stretch of rock-strewn ground leading to another wall of forest. I pushed harder, my muscles burning in that satisfying, alive way.
The pale one cut me off from the left, appearing in a blur of motion. I pivoted, feinting right before vaulting over a moss-slick boulder. My hands hit the rock, my feet cleared it clean, and I landed in a crouch before sprinting again.
The darker one came from behind, his shadow falling over me as he leapt. Instinct screamed, up.
I grabbed the nearest tree trunk, my foot finding a low knot, and hauled myself upward. My fingers caught a branch just as he swiped at my ankle. His claws grazed skin, but I was already pulling myself higher.
From the branch, I saw both of them staring up at me.
“You can’t run forever,” the pale one called. His tone wasn’t taunting, it was certain.
I didn’t answer. My breath fogged in the cool air as I stared down at them, my heart pounding in a rhythm I didn’t recognize.
Then the darker one’s lips curved in something dangerously close to a smile. “We’ll see how long you last, little queen.”
That name hit me like a stone to the chest. My grip on the branch tightened.
They stepped back together, fading into the shadows of the trees, their glowing eyes the last thing I saw before they were gone.
I stayed in the tree until the forest went still again.
When I finally climbed down, my hands were shaking, not from fear, but from the strange, electric energy still buzzing under my skin. I didn’t know who I was. But I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to make this easy for them.
I moved fast, putting distance between myself and the place where they’d cornered me. Every few minutes, I stopped to listen. The forest’s sounds returned slowly, bird calls, the low hum of insects, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still tracking me.
The adrenaline from the chase hadn’t faded. If anything, it had sharpened into a wired focus, my body alive and humming in a way my mind didn’t understand.
I found a stretch of fallen logs leaning together in a loose shelter and slipped inside. From here, I could see through gaps in the bark without being seen. My muscles ached faintly, but not in the way they should after running and climbing like I had. I wasn’t tired. If anything, I felt… ready.
The thought unsettled me.
I checked my backpack, two protein bars, half the water left, and my knife. My fingers lingered on the blade. I didn’t remember ever using one before today, but holding it felt natural. My grip was instinctive, balanced. Dangerous.
I took small bites of one bar, forcing myself to eat slowly while keeping my gaze on the forest beyond my hiding spot. The silver eyed wolf’s voice replayed in my head. Little queen. The words stirred something deep in my chest, a pressure I couldn’t name.
When the shadows outside began to stretch longer, I knew I needed a more defensible spot for the night. I slipped from my shelter and moved through the trees, keeping my steps light and my breathing low.
The sound reached me first, a slow, deliberate crunch of leaves. Not heavy like the two before. This one was quieter, almost careful.
I froze, every sense straining. Through the trees, I saw him.
He stood still, half hidden in the gloom, watching me. Taller than the others, his hair a pale gold that caught the fading light, eyes glowing faintly, not silver, not amber, but something molten and wild. His presence rolled over me like heat from a fire. For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he smiled, slow and wolfish, before stepping back into the shadows until he was gone. The hairs on my arms stayed standing long after.
I didn’t know his name, but I knew one thing for sure. He’d be the most dangerous one yet.
And for some insane reason, I was already looking forward to meeting him again.