The Alpha Prince's Runaway Tribute

CAMELLIA The forest was still draped in darkness when I stepped beneath its canopy, armed with nothing more than a woven basket hanging from my arm and a lantern swinging gently in my hand. Though I lacked the enhanced senses most werewolves possessed, I knew this forest by heart. Mama had been bringing me here since I was old enough to run. I knew where the roots twisted beneath the soil. I knew which stones turned slick after rain and which trails the deer favored in spring. I could find patches of moonleaf and silver thyme with my eyes closed because I had spent years memorizing every corner of these woods. A smile tugged at my lips as I knelt beside a cluster of nightshade blooms. Their pale petals shimmered beneath the moonlight, delicate and ghostly against the dark earth. Carefully, I harvested only what I needed before moving on. This was my favorite part of the day. Before the rest of the pack awoke, these few precious hours belonged to me alone. No stares. No whispers. No pity. Just peace. Within Crimson Ridge Pack, I occupied a strange place. I wasn't wolf enough to be considered an Omega, yet I wasn't fully human either. No one openly mistreated me. No one threw stones or hurled insults as I passed. Most greeted me politely enough, especially when they needed herbs for a fever or a salve for an injury. Yet there was always a distance. A subtle hesitation in their smiles. A careful line they never crossed. I lived among them, but I never truly belonged. Everyone knew my story. A five-year-old girl wandering alone at the edge of the territory. No name. No scent. And when I came of age, I couldn't shift either. For years, people speculated about what I was and where I had come from. The most common theory was that I was a runt—a weak pup abandoned by parents unwilling to burden themselves with a defective child. But to my parents—the couple who found me, took me in, and raised me as their own—none of that mattered. They accepted me exactly as I was. Mom always insisted that the Goddess had led them to me. Dad, meanwhile, liked to say that fate had finally sent him someone worthy of inheriting the pack scholar's mantle. Whether by the Goddess's will or fate's design, I had never doubted that I was loved. When I had gathered everything I needed, I made my way to my favorite spot beside the great waterfall. I climbed onto the flat gray rock overlooking the rushing water and set my basket beside me. The waterfall roared endlessly, its cool mist brushing against my skin, but I had always found the sound comforting. Birdsong gradually began to fill the forest as the first early risers woke among the branches. A squirrel scampered onto a nearby stump, staring at me expectantly. I smiled and tossed it a berry. "There you go." The squirrel snatched up the treat and darted away. Before long, more creatures emerged. Over the years, they had learned that I was no predator. A rabbit hopped out of the brush. Two more squirrels chased each other around a pine tree. Even a curious little fox lingered at the edge of the clearing, watching from a cautious distance. When the first pale ribbon of light broke through the treetops, I sighed and rose to my feet. “Time to go,” I told the tiny forest audience gathered around my boots. “See you tomorrow.” They scattered as I gathered my basket, extinguished my lamp, and started back toward the pack grounds. I was nearly through the densest part of the woods when strong arms wrapped around me from behind—so suddenly and tightly that the breath punched from my lungs. My back slammed against a tree before I could even gasp. Hazel eyes locked onto mine. “Theo, what are you—” The words never finished. His mouth crashed into mine, hungry and desperate, swallowing the rest of my protest. For a moment, shock rooted me in place. Then my senses caught up, and I shoved him with all my strength. He stumbled back a step, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with frustration. "I thought I made myself clear, Theo." My own chest rose and fell rapidly as I glared at him. "We can't do this anymore." He reached for me again. "You can't mean that, Cammi," he said. "You're just upset." I slapped his hand away, harder this time. "You're engaged." His jaw tightened. "I have already explained this. This wasn't my choice," he said. "But as the future Alpha, I need a strong bloodline. Strong heirs. Reinforced alliances. You know this." I swallowed hard before meeting his eyes. "I do," I said quietly. "I have none of those things. That's exactly why we need to stop this. You don't have to worry about me getting in the way." "That's not what I said." His voice dropped, coaxing, almost pleading. "As Alpha, I can still keep consorts if I choose to," he said. "You'd still have a place at my side." His expression softened as though he were offering me a gift. A laugh escaped me, but it held no amusement whatsoever. “A very generous offer,” I said, “but I’ll pass.” Something in him snapped. Fury flashed across his face, and before I could move, his fist slammed into the tree beside my head. The trunk shuddered with the impact, bark scattering across my shoulder. I flinched, but held my ground. He pointed at me, his chest heaving. "I'm the only one who will ever love you, Camellia," he spat. "No one else would ever choose a runt like you." There it was. The truth he had been holding back all these years. For years, I had told myself what we had was real. That meeting in secret was necessary. That he was protecting us. But we had never walked through the pack together. He had never reached for my hand in public. Never introduced me as anything more than a rumor. A slow, bitter smile curved my lips. "Right," I said softly. "A runt like me." Theo's mouth actually fell open, the shock on his face almost comical. For a moment, he looked like a fish gasping for air. His grip on my arms loosened. "No..." he said quickly. "No, that's not what I meant." The anger had vanished from his voice. All that remained was desperation. "I never saw you as anything less." He took a tentative step toward me. "That came out wrong, Cammi. I'm sorry." I slowly shook my head, holding his gaze. "No, Theo." A bitter smile touched my lips. "It was actually the most honest thing you've ever said to me." The color drained from his face. "Cammi—" "So thank you," I said, drawing in a steadying breath. "Thank you for finally making it clear how you truly see me." His eyes widened. He reached for my face—a familiar gesture, one that once would have made my heart race. But before his fingers could touch me, a sharp crack echoed through the trees. Twigs snapped. Leaves crunched beneath approaching footsteps. Theo jerked his hand back as though burned, his gaze darting toward the sound. I wasn't surprised. "Leave," I said quietly. "Before someone sees you with me." For a brief moment, he looked as though he wanted to argue. Then the footsteps came again, closer this time. His shoulders sagged. "You're clearly upset," he said, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "Take some time to clear your head. Then we can talk." "My head is perfectly clear," I said. But he was already retreating, slipping into the shadows between the trees. The forest swallowed him within seconds. I let out a hollow laugh. "Coward."