Chapter 2: Run
2248 Words
The cheering broke wrong.
Kayla heard it before she understood it.
Still crouched behind the supply tents, she pressed the heel of her hand against her mouth and listened as the festival noise twisted into something jagged—voices cutting over each other, footsteps pounding too fast, someone shouting for guards.
Not celebration.
Her stomach cramped again.
Across the clearing, another voice rose sharp enough to split through the others.
“Move!”
A woman screamed.
The sound scraped down Kayla’s spine.
She pushed herself upright too quickly. The world tilted once. Black dots crowded her vision, then cleared.
The bonfires beyond the tents spat sparks into the air. Wolves were shoving toward the northern side of the ceremonial grounds now, abandoning food tables and music alike.
Something had happened.
Her fingers slipped automatically into the hidden pocket of her dress.
The moon charm sat cold against her skin.
For one strange second, Kayla found herself thinking about Kylie’s ribbon again.
It had been loose.
One side lower than the other.
Kylie hated uneven things.
Another scream tore through the clearing.
Kayla stepped around the edge of the tent.
Bodies packed together near the old oak platform where mating ceremonies were usually completed. Wolves craned their necks. Guards pushed people backward. Someone was crying hard enough to choke on it.
Then she saw Derek.
Not his face at first.
His posture.
Stillness.
The kind that came right before violence.
He stood near the center of the crowd with blood splattered across one sleeve of his ceremonial jacket.
Kayla’s pulse stumbled.
Not Kylie.
Please not—
A Beta guard barked, “Get back!”
The crowd shifted.
And through the opening between shoulders and torchlight, Kayla saw a pale arm hanging over the edge of the platform.
Silver ribbon.
Dark blood.
Kylie.
Kayla stopped breathing for a moment.
Not from grief.
From recognition.
The ribbon had been fixed.
Someone tied it properly.
The thought arrived clean and absurd and horribly clear.
Around her, voices collided.
“She was fine five minutes ago—”
“Who found her?”
“Moon Goddess—”
“There’s blood everywhere—”
Kayla stared at the edge of Kylie’s dress visible beneath the crowd. Simpler than hers. Cream-colored. One shoulder strap twisted halfway down her arm.
Her knees felt oddly loose.
Not weak.
Detached.
As though her body belonged to somebody standing several feet away.
“Kayla.”
She turned.
Sheila stood beside the tent entrance again, breathing lightly despite the chaos around them.
“You shouldn’t stand there,” Sheila said quietly.
Kayla blinked at her. “Her ribbon was fixed.”
“What?”
“She hated crooked things.”
Another howl erupted near the platform.
This one male. Furious.
The crowd fell abruptly silent afterward.
Derek stepped onto the platform.
Blood streaked across his hand now.
Kayla couldn’t stop staring at it.
Had he touched Kylie’s face? Her hair? Tried to wake her up?
Derek’s gaze swept over the crowd once.
Then landed on Kayla.
Everything around her seemed to narrow.
Noise fading. Heat fading. Just that look crossing the distance between them.
Cold recognition.
Someone near the front whispered loudly, “It was the omega.”
Another voice answered, “She was rejected tonight.”
“She embarrassed herself—”
“She loved him—”
“She threatened Kylie earlier, I heard it—”
Kayla frowned slightly.
Threatened?
She hadn’t even—
“Kayla Vale.”
Derek’s voice cut through the clearing like a blade dragged slowly across stone.
The crowd shifted apart automatically to look at her.
Too many faces.
Too many eyes.
Kayla’s hand moved to her stomach again before she could stop it.
Derek noticed.
His gaze flicked downward briefly.
Then back to her face.
“What happened?” she asked.
Nobody answered.
A guard climbed onto the platform beside Derek and murmured something low into his ear.
Derek’s jaw tightened once.
The silence around the grounds thickened.
Then Derek spoke again.
“Where were you after the claiming ceremony?”
Kayla stared at him.
Not what happened.
Not are you hurt.
Not Kylie.
Where were you.
“I was behind the tents.”
“With who?”
“No one.”
A murmur rolled through the crowd.
Someone spat near the fire.
“She was jealous.”
“Omegas always turn ugly when they don’t get picked.”
“She followed them, didn’t she?”
Kayla looked toward Kylie’s body again.
One of her shoes had fallen off the platform.
Tiny pearl buckle.
Kayla remembered helping her steal those shoes from the merchant stalls when they were fourteen because Kylie swore nobody would notice one missing pair.
Wrong emotion again.
Memory instead of horror.
Her brain kept refusing the shape of this night.
Derek descended the platform slowly.
Each step deliberate.
The crowd opened for him instantly.
Kayla swallowed hard as he stopped in front of her.
Up close, she could see blood smeared beneath his fingernails.
Not much.
Enough.
“You left the ceremony minutes after I claimed Kylie,” he said.
The words landed flat. Controlled.
Kayla almost laughed at that too.
Claimed Kylie.
As if the claiming still existed now.
“I felt sick.”
“She threatened you,” somebody shouted from the crowd.
Kayla turned sharply. “I didn’t.”
“You argued all the time.”
“That’s not—”
“She was obsessed with Derek.”
“She couldn’t stand seeing Kylie chosen.”
The voices multiplied quickly after that.
Too quickly.
Like dry wood catching fire.
Kayla looked around wildly, trying to find one person who looked uncertain.
Most didn’t.
A few looked excited.
That was worse.
Derek watched her in silence.
Not defending her.
Not accusing her either.
Calculating.
Always calculating.
“Sheila,” Kayla said quietly, eyes still on Derek. “Tell them.”
Her sister tilted her head slightly.
“You were sick,” Sheila replied.
Not enough.
Not nearly enough.
“You saw me.”
“I saw you leave.”
The crowd murmured harder.
Derek’s face changed then. Only slightly. But Kayla saw it.
Decision.
His grief had found direction.
One of the guards climbed the platform behind him and called down, “No defensive wounds. Quick kill.”
Quick kill.
Kylie hadn’t even fought.
Kayla’s stomach twisted violently.
For one terrible second, hunger punched through her again so hard her mouth filled with saliva.
What is wrong with me?
She pressed her lips together hard.
Derek’s eyes narrowed faintly.
Then he stepped back.
“Bring her in,” he ordered.
Two guards moved instantly.
Kayla stumbled backward. “I didn’t kill her.”
Nobody reacted.
“I didn’t.”
The first guard grabbed her wrist.
Too hard.
Pain shot up her arm.
Kayla jerked instinctively, and the second guard snarled, “See?”
Something shifted in the crowd then.
Not suspicion anymore.
Certainty.
“Punish her!”
“Murderer!”
“She killed the Luna!”
The chant started from somewhere near the back.
“Hunter’s law.”
Another voice joined.
“Hunter’s law.”
More.
Louder.
“Hunter’s law. Hunter’s law.”
Kayla looked at Derek.
Please.
Not forgiveness. Not love. Just—
Sense.
But Derek’s expression had gone distant in that terrifying Alpha way. Emotion sealed beneath duty.
Or hidden behind it.
“Kylie Mercer was murdered under Ravenclaw protection,” he said coldly. “Until proven otherwise, Kayla Vale stands accused.”
The crowd erupted.
The guard twisted her wrist behind her back.
Pain burst through her shoulder.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words almost came out.
They reached the back of her throat and stopped there.
Because the second she said them, everything would get worse.
Not better.
Worse.
Derek took another step back.
“Prepare the hunt.”
The world narrowed to a thin ringing sound.
Kayla stared at him.
The hunt?
Not imprisonment.
Not questioning.
A hunt.
For her.
Someone shoved her from behind.
Another hand grabbed at her dress, ripping part of the embroidered hem.
Moonflowers tore loose across the dirt.
Three weeks of work scattered beneath strangers’ boots.
The wrongness of that nearly made her dizzy.
“Move!”
Kayla twisted hard enough to wrench one wrist free.
Then everything happened too fast.
A bonfire log crashed sideways between the guards.
Sparks exploded upward.
The crowd shouted.
And Sheila’s fingers closed around Kayla’s arm.
“Run.”
Kayla stared at her.
“What?”
“Your shoes are too thin,” Sheila snapped softly, dragging her toward the back tents. “Try not to step on roots.”
Behind them, guards shouted orders.
Derek’s voice cut through the chaos. “Don’t let her reach the borders.”
Kayla stumbled after Sheila through narrow gaps between supply carts.
“You believe them?”
Sheila ducked beneath a hanging tarp. “Your hem’s unraveling.”
“What?”
“You missed stitches near the left side.”
Kayla almost tripped.
The conversation felt unreal.
Behind them, wolves began shifting.
Bones cracking. Growls splitting the night.
The hunt.
Oh God.
“The eastern woods,” Sheila said quickly. “Not the river path.”
“Why?”
“Too obvious.”
Branches slapped Kayla’s bare arms as they burst into the treeline.
The sounds behind them sharpened instantly once the forest swallowed the festival lights.
Howling.
Closer than it should have been.
Kayla’s lungs burned already. Empty stomach. Tight dress. Panic cutting her breaths too short.
“Sheila—”
“Take off the sash.”
“What?”
“It’s bright blue. Are you trying to be found?”
Kayla yanked the sash loose with shaking fingers.
The dress sagged slightly around her waist afterward.
Her hand flew instinctively to her stomach.
Still there.
Still—
She nearly crashed into a tree root.
“Sheila, wait.”
Her sister slowed only enough for Kayla to catch up.
Moonlight flashed across Sheila’s face between branches.
Calm.
Too calm.
“You knew something was going to happen,” Kayla said.
No answer.
“You said for later.”
“The northern trail curves after the ravine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“The guards know the western routes better.”
Talking past her again.
Deliberately.
Behind them came another howl.
Closer.
Kayla’s chest tightened painfully.
“They really think I killed her.”
“She’s dead.”
“I know that!”
A beat of silence.
Then Sheila said quietly, “People like stories more than truth.”
Roots clawed at Kayla’s ruined dress as they pushed deeper into the forest.
Somewhere behind them, wolves crashed through underbrush.
Too many.
Kayla’s breaths came ragged now.
Her stomach cramped sharply enough to fold her forward for half a second.
Not now not now not now—
Sheila caught her elbow. “Keep moving.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
The forest thinned slightly ahead.
Border territory.
Kayla recognized the old stone markers half-buried in moss.
Crescent Pack land beyond this point.
Enemy territory.
No Ravenclaw wolf crossed here casually.
Sheila slowed at the final marker.
For the first time all night, uncertainty flickered across her face.
Small. Gone quickly.
“You remember the rabbit traps near the lower ridge?” she asked.
Kayla blinked hard. “What?”
“From when we were kids.”
“I—yes?”
“Don’t run downhill.”
Another howl split the darkness behind them.
Too close.
Kayla grabbed Sheila’s wrist suddenly. “Come with me.”
Her sister looked down at the hand gripping her.
Then gently peeled Kayla’s fingers away.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
The silence stretched too long.
Finally Sheila stepped back toward the Ravenclaw side of the border.
“They’ll notice if I’m gone.”
Branches snapped behind them.
Voices now. Guards.
“She went this way!”
Kayla’s pulse exploded.
“Sheila—”
“Run.”
Not emotional.
Not desperate.
An instruction.
Kayla turned and bolted across the border line.
Branches whipped against her face. Her ruined dress tangled around her legs. Every breath burned harder than the last, and still she ran because behind her wolves were howling her name like it belonged to prey now, not a person, and the forest stretched endlessly ahead until for one terrible hopeful moment she thought maybe maybe maybe she’d made it because the sounds behind her faded slightly and there was only moonlight spilling silver across the ground and her own heartbeat hammering inside her ears and the cold moon charm digging into her palm where she clutched it too tightly—
Her foot hit empty air.
She was falling.
Then iron snapped shut around her ankle.
Pain detonated upward.
Kayla screamed.
The trap jerked her violently sideways into the dirt. Something cracked—branch or bone, she couldn’t tell.
Metal teeth bit deep into her leg.
Her vision flashed white.
Above her, hidden mechanisms released from the trees.
Ropes whipped downward.
Netting crashed over her body hard enough to crush the air from her lungs.
Kayla clawed frantically at the cords.
Enemy trap.
Crescent Pack.
Somewhere far away, wolves were still howling.
Closer now.
Too close.
She tried to reach her stomach through the tangled ropes.
Please.
Please—
Footsteps approached through the trees.
Heavy.
Not Ravenclaw.
A male voice, low and unfamiliar, cut through the darkness.
“What the hell did we catch?”
Then blackness swallowed everything.
- Writer
