Nessa~
Run.
My bare feet tore on roots and rocks, leaving bloody prints the wolves could follow. I didn't care. Couldn't stop. Behind me, their howls echoed through the trees—getting closer with every heartbeat.
I'd escaped one prison only to be hunted by another.
My bones ached, a deep grinding sensation like they were being filed down and reshaped. My fingernails lengthened, darkening to claws that curved like scythes. When I looked down at my hands—God, were those even my hands anymore?—I saw fur sprouting along my forearms in patches of silver-white.
Not quite human. Not quite wolf. Something in between.
And it HURT. Every cell in my body was screaming, caught between two forms and unable to complete either.
My senses were overwhelming,I could hear everything, smell everything. The heartbeat of a rabbit fifty feet away. The decay of a fallen tree. The metallic tang of my own blood.
What was happening to me?
Images flashed through my mind in fragments: Wren's throat opening in a spray of crimson. The man's cold eyes as he'd jabbed something into my neck. Waking up strapped to a chair in that warehouse, voices arguing over me like I was merchandise.
The syringe coming at me again. And then
And then I'd changed.
I didn't know how. Didn't understand it.
But something inside me had snapped, some leash I hadn't even known existed, and suddenly I was strong. Fast. Different.
I'd torn through restraints like paper, ripped a man's chest open with hands that weren't quite hands anymore, and punched through a solid wall like it was cardboard.
Then I'd seen him. Rowan. Standing there with his enforcement team, looking at me like I was a monster.
Maybe I was.
So I ran.
My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Behind me, I could hear them, boots pounding against earth, voices shouting coordinates. They were hunting me.
I couldn't go back. Not to Blackwood, not anywhere near the pack. I just needed to run until I crossed a border, any border, and disappear. Start over somewhere no one knew me. Somewhere I would not be hurt.
A root caught my foot, and I went down hard, skidding through dead leaves and mud.
Pain exploded through my shoulder, but I scrambled up, forcing my legs to keep moving even though they felt like jelly.
Get up. Move.
They're getting closer.
I could hear them now, really hear them. Rowan's voice cutting through the night: "Northeast! She's heading for the river!"
The river. Yes. Water would mask my scent, give me a chance to...
Something hit me in the back.
Not hard. Just a sting, like a bee.
But my legs immediately went numb, and I crashed face-first into the undergrowth. I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't cooperate.
My whole body felt heavy, disconnected, like I was sinking into quicksand.
No. No, no, no. Get up. MOVE.
But I couldn't. My vision blurred, darkening at the edges. I could hear footsteps approaching, slow and measured now that I was down.
"Got her," someone called. "Tranq hit center mass. She's going down."
" Be careful with her," Rowan's voice was closer now.
I tried to speak, to beg them to just let me go, but my tongue felt thick and useless. The darkness was closing in fast, pulling me under like a riptide.
The last thing I saw before unconsciousness claimed me was Rowan's face appearing above mine, his expression unreadable in the moonlight.
Then nothing.
I woke up to the familiar smell of antiseptic and herbs.
Rowan's room. Again.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened. The warehouse. The transformation. Running through the forest. The tranquilizer.
They'd brought me back.
Panic surged through me, and I tried to sit up, but leather restraints held my wrists and ankles to the bed.
restraints.
Again.
No. No, no, NO—
I yanked against them, animal sounds tearing from my throat. The restraints held. Just like before. Just like in the warehouse. Just like...
I froze, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Rowan sat beside the bed, watching me with those calculating green eyes.
Watching me fall apart.
Shame burned through the panic. I forced myself to stop thrashing, to breathe, even though every instinct screamed to keep fighting.
I turned my head to find Rowan sitting in a chair beside the bed, his arms crossed, watching me with those sharp green eyes that missed nothing.
He looked tired,shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it. His shirt had blood on it.
My blood, probably.
"Let me go," I said, my voice coming out hoarse and raw. "Please. Just let me go."
"Can't do that," he replied calmly. "You're injured, and you have a lot of explaining to do."
"I don't owe you any explanation." Anger flared hot in my chest, giving me strength. "Kade rejected me. I refuse to be your mate. You have no right to keep me here."
Something flickered across Rowan's face,an emotion I couldn't quite read. "Rejected or not, you're still my mate till I say otherwise. That makes this our business."
"I don't want to be your business! I don't want to be anyone's business!" My voice cracked, embarrassing tears burning behind my eyes. "I just want to leave.
"What are you, Nessa?"
The question cut through my rambling, sharp and direct. I froze, my mouth still open.
"I saw what you did in that warehouse," Rowan continued, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
"I saw you shift. Partial shift, but still. Your eyes went amber. Claws. Enhanced strength and speed. You tore through a concrete wall." He paused. "It was unlike the first time you shifted."
"That's none of your fucking business," I don't owe you any explanation regarding who I am I said, my chest heaving from pain and anger.
"I need to examine your injuries," Rowan said.
"Don't touch me." I tried to shrink away, but the restraints prevented it.
"You're hurt. That gash on your arm could get infected—"
"I don't care!"
"Well, I do." His voice was firm but not harsh. "You can hate me. You can scream at me. But I'm not letting you bleed out while you do it."
We stared at each other. Finally, I looked away.
"Fine," I muttered. "But don't talk to me."
"Deal."
Rowan stood and moved to the side of the bed, his movements careful and professional. He released one of my wrist restraints, then the other, but kept my ankles secured. A compromise, enough freedom to be examined, not enough to run.
His hands were gentle as he checked my shoulder, probing carefully. I hissed when he hit a particularly tender spot.
"Dislocated," he murmured. " It probably happened when you went down in the forest. I'll need to reset it."
"Don't fucking talk to me that was the deal " I yelled
"Whatever." He muttered at my outburst.
He popped the bone back into place with a sudden movement, the bastard. I bit back a scream, my vision whiting out for a second from the pain.
He paused giving me some time to get used to it.
I gasped, taking shaky gulps of air while he worked, cleaning cuts, checking for broken bones, applying salve to the deeper wounds. His touch was impersonal but not unkind, and I found myself relaxing slightly despite everything.
The door opened and Maddox walked in, his expression grave.
"We need to talk," Maddox said, his expression grave. "Now. Mariah's had another vision. And this one..." He glanced at me, then back to Rowan. "This one's worse."
"How much worse?" Rowan asked quietly.
"End-of-the-pack worse. We have less time than we thought.