Chapter 2: Survival Instincts
764words
My phone had died sometime during the night. With it went my last connection to the outside world, to the pack that should have noticed my absence by now. To the mate who should have felt my distress through our bond.
Unless Aiden was deliberately blocking me. It wouldn't be the first time.
I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing the way my grandmother had taught me. She'd been an unmated Omega her whole life—by choice, she'd always insisted. "Never let your biology dictate your worth," she'd told me. The irony that I'd ignored her wisdom wasn't lost on me.
A scraping sound above made my ears prick. The cellar door opened, and a water bottle tumbled down the stairs, followed by a packaged sandwich.
"Breakfast," my captor called down. "Can't have you dying too quickly."
I didn't move. Playing possum seemed safer than revealing how weak I truly was.
"Your Alpha called the local sheriff," the voice continued conversationally. "Seems he finally realized you weren't joking. Too bad he gave them the wrong location. He thinks you're still at Whiteridge."
My heart sank. Of course Aiden would assume I'd stayed at our planned destination. He never listened when I told him about my spontaneous detours, my love for the small towns that dotted the mountain range. He'd never bothered to learn my habits.
When the door closed again, I crawled toward the water bottle. My wolf instincts were taking over—survive first, plan revenge later.
As I sipped the water slowly, I thought about how I'd ended up here. Not just in this cellar, but in this life.
Aiden and I had grown up in neighboring houses in Silver Creek, our families part of the same ancient pack. I'd followed him everywhere, the smaller wolf always in the shadow of the future Alpha. When we were sixteen, I'd gone into my first heat, and his eyes had flashed red in response. Destined mates, everyone said. A perfect match.
What they didn't say was that destiny could be resisted. That an Alpha could mark an Omega and still keep his heart locked away.
The sandwich was stale but edible. As protein hit my system, my thoughts cleared slightly. I needed to escape before my heat peaked again. In the brief window of clarity between waves, I might have a chance.
I examined my prison with new determination. The cellar was old, with stone walls and a dirt floor. The door at the top of the rickety stairs was the only exit—unless...
I moved to the far wall, where a tiny window sat just below ground level. Too small for a human to fit through, but in wolf form? Maybe.
Shifting during heat was dangerous—it could accelerate the process, make the next wave hit harder. But it might be my only chance.
I stripped off my remaining clothes, folding them neatly despite the absurdity of the gesture. Some habits die hard.
The shift was agonizing. My bones cracked and reformed as fur rippled across my skin. I bit back a howl as my body contorted, not wanting to alert my captor. When it was done, I stood on four legs, my white-gray coat dull in the dim light.
The window was higher than it had appeared. I gathered my strength and leaped, front paws scrabbling at the ledge. Too short. I tried again, this time using a pile of old crates for height. My claws caught the edge.
As I wiggled through the narrow opening, glass cutting into my sides, I thought of Aiden. Was he really looking for me? Or was he still with Eliza, holding her hand while doctors tended to whatever minor crisis had called him away on our anniversary?
The cool mountain air hit my nostrils as I finally pulled free, tumbling onto damp grass. I was behind an abandoned farmhouse, miles from anywhere familiar. Blood matted my fur where the window had cut me, but I couldn't shift back—not yet. In human form, I'd be naked and even more vulnerable.
I oriented myself toward the rising sun and began to run. Not toward Silver Creek. Not toward Aiden.
Toward freedom.
My wolf whined in protest, wanting her mate. But the woman in me had made her decision.
