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I flee my cell, heart racing and bare feet slapping against the damp concrete of the corridor as I sprint for the exit door, flinging myself out of the bunker and into the endless miles of forest surrounding it.
The first time, he caught up to me quickly.
The second time, it took a little longer.
Now, I’m getting more familiar with the forest surrounding the bunker, and I’m becoming more adept at evading capture. But deep down, I know I’ll never actually get away. He won’t let me.
He always catches me.
I don’t know when I started to like it; when running from him became a thrill rather than an all-encompassing state of fear and panic. I’ve been deprived of human contact for so long that this sick game of his has become something I find myselflooking forward to, even though I know what’ll happen when I’m caught.
I hiss as a thorn stabs into the flesh of my heel, immediately slapping a hand over my mouth and regretting that I made a sound. I haven’t seen or heard evidence of his pursuit yet tonight, but I can feel his presence closing in like a dark cloud sweeping over the forest, snuffing out every sliver of moonlight cutting through the canopy of leaves overhead.
Hobbling over to the wide trunk of a tree, I lean against it for support, lifting my foot and turning it sideways in my hands to survey the damage. The thorn is still embedded in my flesh, protruding grotesquely from my heel. I grab ahold of it, struggling to get a decent grip as my fingertips slip and slide in the blood pooling around the thorn. With great difficulty, I finally manage to pull it out, wincing and holding my breath so he doesn’t hear me. Even so, now that I have this wound on my foot, he’s sure to pick up my trail easily. He’s like a damn bloodhound.
If my wolf wasn’t suppressed, I’d heal in a matter of minutes. I’ve been regularly dosed with wolfsbane to suppress my shifter abilities since my capture, and as a result, I haven’t felt my inner animal stir in months. Sometimes I wonder if she’s still inside me or if she died off long ago, like little pieces of me have each night he’s hunted me.
Tossing the thorn aside, I set my foot back down in the dirt, gritting my teeth against the pain. I hobble a step, testing putting weight on it, and then I hear a branch cracking in the distance, my instincts kicking back in as icy terror floods my veins.
Run.
I take off again at a dead sprint, pain stabbing through my heel each time it meets the ground. I push all thoughts of the agony out of my head, becoming numb to it, because I know there’s no other option. He’ll be frustrated if he catches me too soon. The harder the chase is, the more he likes it, and I need him to like it.
It’s my only chance at survival.
I run until I’m too winded to go on, finding my way to a narrow ravine that I’ve taken cover in once before. I crouch down in the gap, struggling to catch my breath as I listen intently for any sounds emanating from above.
Leaves rustle and my heart pounds wildly in my chest, my mind struggling to discern whether it’s just the wind or if it’shim.I press a hand tightly over my mouth to muffle the sound of my ragged breathing, straining my ears to listen.
I don’t need to hear another sound to know he’s near, though. I can smell him. Sage and pine, motor oil and leather; the scent of a demon razed from the pits of hell to lay me to ruin.
I’m downwind, which means that while I can smellhimright now, he can’t scentme. I’m still safely hidden here in the ravine, but I can’t stay for long. He’ll find me. He always does.
The shadow alpha is a bad man; a shifter who turned against his own kind to further his own agenda for power and the creation of a superior race. That’s the reason he took me. He said I was chosen; that I’m a prime vessel for him to use in bringing his goal to fruition.
Yet for three nights each month, he tells me to run. I used to see it as an opportunity to save myself from the fate I’ve been doomed to. Now, I know it’s all part of his twisted game. There’s no escaping the devil himself.
A breeze rustles the leaves of the trees overhead, and I use the sound as cover to slip out from the ravine, climbing back up onto even ground. I don’t stick around to find out whether he’s spotted me- I just take off running again, determined that if I can’t get away, at least I can put up a fight this time. I can make him work for it.
The cool night breeze whips against my bare skin as I flee deeper into the forest, trying to keep my footsteps as light as possible to minimize the noise I make. Even so, I’m sure he can hear me. He has an unfair advantage. His wolf isn’t suppressed, so he’s got his shifter hearing and sight, while I’m deprived of enhanced senses by the damn wolfsbane.
My throat burns, muscles aching from exertion, but I push myself harder, trying to put as much distance between me and that loathsome bunker as possible. Maybe tonight’s the time I finally get away. Maybe tonight, it’ll all end.
When I physically can’t run anymore, I slam my back against the wide trunk of a tree, body sagging as I lean against it for support and try to regulate my breathing. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the mind, but I swear I can still smell him. My eyes dart around in the darkness, seeking out the shadows, but I don’t see any movement.
That doesn’t mean he’s not there.
He’s a hunter by nature. It’d be just like him to lie in wait; to pounce on me when I least expect it. And with that thought in mind, I focus harder on my breathing, calming my frantic heart and steadying myself.
Just a little further.
I’ve never made it this far from the bunker before. He’s never let me. I’m not sure if I’ve actually managed to evade him or if he’s just toying with me, but I allow a small glimmer of hope to bloom in my chest as I push off from the tree, scanning my surroundings as I contemplate my next move.
Then a hand slams over my mouth and I’m yanked backwards into a hard chest, stubble tickling my cheek as he leans down and whispers “game over”.
But it’s not.
Notyet.
