The Cursed Alpha in Town

Get her!" "Don’t let her get away!” The shrill cries were resonating across the dark wood, the echoes penetrating even the large trees that encircled the space. Lia’s breath came fast and shallow as she wove in and out of the gnarled branches, her heart racing furiously inside her ribs. The soles of her shoes feeling the damp earth covered with foliage, stumbled against roots, and broke sticks that were all conspiring against her. Time was of the utmost importance. She was reeling with inexplicable horror and excruciating pain, unwillingly assailed by the singular urge to keep moving, to keep her distance from the unseen pursuers who were shrouded in the blackness, carrying blades that could be seen intermittently. It was a long, horrible sound that resonated from a distance, so close she nearly tripped, her hands in a defensive posture and clutching the only thing she had of importance, a locket that seemed to have made her turbulent existence bearable in the past. “Locate her!" "She cannot be allowed to get away!” The hostile howls, nearer than before, sent Lia’s heart racing, and she could not help looking back. With a flash, the silhouettes of a few men disappeared amid the trees. The rigid apprehension twisted and turned inside her belly, daunting. She sprinted, pushing herself through the thick brush. She was entrapped in painful thorns and branches that scratched her skin and ripped her dress, the stunning gown now reduced to tattered rags that hung on her as an indication of how the day should have been. Just a couple of hours ago, this was the place where she had impressed her subjects in exquisitely beaded attire, prepared to step opposite her beloved protector, Princeton, at the altar. She has been a royal, a royal of their kind. And now, she was being hunted, her family most probably dead, and her collective residence burning. The irritations of smoke and loads of memories made her wince and she concentrated on the fresh pain staring menacingly back at her. The rain began lightly, as if to brief everyone before the shower out there. However, it later became heavy and unyielding to the extent that visibility was quite difficult, and her attire was wet all over. Each drop was quite exaggerated and combined with the wet pallor on her cheeks. It was like she had no legs as they were too cold to feel, and her lungs were on fire from all that running. But even when all hope was lost and fatigue had induced a torrent of bitter cold rain, she understood that she was running for her life. She chanced one more look back, catching sight of the dancing of the flame in the torches and the sound of many feet marching. They were almost on her, so damn close. Her throat felt like it was on fire, and so she went further into the woods, weaving in and out of the colossal trunks and dodging the debris on the ground in a bid to disorient them. The bloodhounds seemed to be further away, and yet she was aware that they would not relent. Not until they had her, not until they made sure she was a threat no more. “Run…run…and don’t let them catch you.” The phrase echoed within her, the last order uttered by her father before he slipped away. She had cradled him, his lifeless body after every single person in the house had fallen, all her family members lying lifeless in every corner, puddles of red around them. The Stoneheart Pack had been dismembered, every last one of them, including the women, men, and children. And it was all for this, every ounce of blood, to make her pay this day— this agonizing run through the drenched woods. When she ran over a pointed rock, a jagged pain shot through her. Her ankle turned, and she fell forward, slamming into the rough surface of a tree just in time to prevent herself from falling. She hugged her ripped mantle around her thin frame, the hood shading her eyes as she continued with the jerk movements due to fatigue that weighed on her body like an iron blanket. As she scaled a small rise, she finally mustered the courage to glance back yet again. She could make out a slight flickering of light, far back in the trees. The village she grew up in, the place she called home, was on fire. It was all lost—every single thought, every chuckle, every aspiration she had experienced along with her family, with Princeton. The image almost made her drop to her knees, but she managed to stand up. Her fingers absently caressed a pendant at her neck, the only remnant that connected her with what she had lost. “I’ll come back for you all,” she said, her voice trembling and almost swallowed by the heavy rain. “I promise.” She couldn't explain how, but she was determined to find a way. Another shout reached her ears, this time more distinct. They were coming for her. Lia balled her hands into fists, struggling against the panic that bubbled within her, begging for release. She was expected to be the best in this wooded area: No one knew the outside better than she did all this time. But this is not the situation lately. Every single instruction in drenched woods, every single hiding spot had been her father's, but the intensely vicious dread had clouded her brain and distorted even the most known paths into bizarre shapes. Then came a sound that made her blood run cold, a menacing growl from the depths of the night. There were wolves, and they were close. She understood all too well. This wasn’t just a game of hide-and-seek—they were also releasing the wolves to flush her out. These creatures were now only loyal to the enemies of the pack, utilized for their strength, and she was aware that they would hunt her down without mercy. Even though it pained her, she quickly turned and pushed on into the forest, not caring or knowing where she was going. There was no more time for her to be judicious; every inhalation was a fight and each exhalation that followed was filled with the desperation of running away from the death that was slowly but surely enclosing her. The rain had soaked her to the bones and the cold did not help either. The gown decorated with rips adhered to her body with the relentless mud, making her experience difficult with the shoe at her foot.