Chapter 3
1012 Words
I barely had time to process my situation before a new threat emerged.
A sharp, pungent scent hit my nose, thick and overwhelming. My stomach churned, and I instinctively clamped a hand over my face, desperate to block out the foul stench that came with it.
I took a step back.
Then another.
I had no idea which direction I was moving—I just knew I needed to get away.
But before I could take another step, a figure materialized from the shadows.
A man.
He staggered toward me, his presence sending a jolt of alarm through my system. I stumbled backward, my breath catching as my eyes finally registered the red marks slashed across the trees surrounding me.
They were everywhere.
How had I not seen them before?
How had I not sensed the dangers that lurked in this forest before it was too late?
I wasn’t just far from the Ice Stone Pack.
I was in the Stolen Lands.
A place ruled by a ruthless being.
A being no one had ever truly seen—only heard of in blood-soaked stories and felt in the weight of death he left behind.
The same being who had wiped out my parents.
Every fiber of my being rejected this place, screamed at me to run, to flee.
But it was too late.
I turned sharply, scanning for an escape route. My eyes flickered from one direction to another, but no matter where I looked—they were there.
Two more men.
They stood strategically, blocking every possible path I could take.
A slow, slurred chuckle cut through the silence.
“Don’t be a stranger,” the first man drawled, his attempt at friendliness dripping with menace.
From where I stood, I could smell the whiskey clinging to his breath, cheap and overpowering.
Then his eyes darkened, raking over me with an unsettling hunger.
“She’s even more beautiful than that heat scent,” he muttered.
I froze.
Heat scent?
My mind stuttered, confusion tangling with my rising dread.
What was he talking about?
Then—realization hit me like a strike of lightning.
My scent.
My body had betrayed me earlier in the night—my arousal mixing with sweat as I ran for my life.
And they had smelled it.
A second man stepped forward, his gaze predatory.
“I need some of that,” he muttered, his voice thick with anticipation.
Cold terror surged through me.
I was trapped.
Like a cornered animal, I pressed myself against the rough bark of a tree, my pulse hammering so violently it was deafening.
"You look lost, anyway," the third man taunted, his voice dripping with mock concern.
His hand stretched toward my face.
No.
Panic flared.
Disgust roared through me.
Without thinking, I slapped his hand away.
I would not be their prey.
The men hesitated for a fraction of a second, their eyes widening slightly—shocked that I had caught on.
That I knew exactly what they were doing.
Circling me like vultures. Playing at false kindness while their intentions dripped from their leering gazes.
I wasn’t naïve.
I knew.
The man who had reached for me earlier scowled, his face twisting in irritation before lunging at me.
I was faster.
My body reacted on instinct, my feet light as I dodged, narrowly evading his grasp.
But I wasn’t fast enough for two of them at once.
The moment I twisted to escape, the other two sprang.
I managed to slip past their clutching hands, but my moment of victory was short-lived.
A weight slammed into me from behind.
A pair of arms clamped around my legs, dragging me down.
I kicked—hard—my knee cracking against someone's face. A sharp, pained grunt followed, but it wasn't enough.
Before I could scramble free, the others descended.
Hands seized my arms, pinning me to the ground.
My chest heaved, rage and terror warring inside me as their faces loomed above me.
Smirking. Satisfied.
“You b***h!” the man I had kneed snarled, clutching his left eye where a deep bruise was already forming. His face twisted with fury as he staggered toward me, the other two keeping me trapped beneath them.
I saw the moment his rage snapped.
The hand that had been pressing against his injured eye shot up.
And then—down.
A c***k of pain exploded across my cheek.
A sharp sting spread like wildfire, and I tasted blood on my tongue.
He laughed—a sickening sound of pleasure.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he sneered, his breath hot and reeking of whiskey as he leaned in, his face inches from mine.
Something inside me boiled.
Survival.
It burned hotter than anger, hotter than fear.
“Wait! I—I have money,” I gasped, struggling against the hands that held me down. Desperation clawed at my throat. “I can get you more money.”
A lie.
I had nothing. No riches. No wealth.
But I needed a distraction. Anything.
Instead, they laughed.
Loud, mocking—cruel.
Another wave of humiliation crashed over me, but I swallowed it down, my face twisting in frustration.
“Please,” I whispered.
Still, they laughed.
But then—
Everything changed.
A low, guttural growl rumbled through the air.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat as my gaze darted toward the bushes.
A shadow moved. Lurking. Watching.
I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him.
His presence was dangerous.
Feral.
And yet—I welcomed it.
A flicker of hope clawed its way into my chest.
“Help!” I screamed, my voice raw, desperate.
Silence.
Then—a voice.
Smooth. Cold. Lethal.
“Lay a single finger on her head,” the voice said, eerily calm, “and you die tonight.”
The men stiffened. Their laughter died.
They turned—just as blood splattered across my face.
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