Survival of the Fittest
1375 Words
LUNA
Somehow I’m still driving this body. Jade is snarling, stalking backward on instinct, but the brain behind the teeth is me. For now.
The door opens, and the leading man walks in with a few buddies, all of them smiling like serial killers who got invited to prom.
“Hello there, pretty,” he says, voice smooth, confident, sinfully amused. He drags his gaze over us slowly, like he’s tasting the sight. “How’s my little clean wolf doing?”
Jade growls—low, violent, primal—shoving us back, muscles trembling with rage.
I’m not backing away from him; she is.
He watches, utterly unfazed. His friends flinch, shrinking back from us. He doesn’t. He looks hungry. Delighted.
“Well, I wanted to let you know we’ve got many buyers. It’s not often you see a pristine white wolf, you know.” He gestures lazily, like commanding dogs. “So we’ll be getting those other wolves’ scents off of you.”
Jade surges forward with another growl, louder, a warning. I can feel her pride swelling when the cronies stop in their tracks, eyes wide, bodies rigid.
They’re terrified of us, she preens.
Of you, or of him? I shoot back.
The leader just laughs, low and rich, like he enjoys the challenge.
“Men, you don’t need to get close to her. Just spray, and you’re all set. It doesn’t matter if it gets on you.”
Oh. Masking spray.
I force Jade to ease the growl—just a little—just enough to lure them in. They shuffle forward, spraying our fur with routine efficiency, and scramble away like we’re dynamite with a short fuse.
The scent doesn't hit me like I thought it would. What was once floral, crisp, and familiar was now just bland nothingness.
Because someone taught me to hide myself.
And clearly, whatever I was given was meant to hide me from my people.
“Perfection,” the leader says. “We’ll get a very good price from you yet. And if we find this sanction’s alpha, well…” He laughs, wicked and excited. “We’ll be beyond rich.”
He moves faster than should be possible—one second across the room, the next at my side, his hand skimming down our flank.
His fingers are warm. Steady. Confident.
And I—no, we—shudder, frozen.
Jade screams in my head:
TEAR HIM APART.
I can’t move. He paralyzes us with a touch, and somehow, he knows it. His grin is pure sin.
He steps back, slow, savoring his own dramatic reveal, and strolls out. His men form a path for him like he’s royalty, then file out behind him. The last guy locks the door… but doesn’t shut it tight.
The latch doesn’t click.
He left it open.
Not careless.
Confident.
An escape, Jade says immediately, eager.
Or bait, I counter.
We shift back. Naked, shaking, adrenaline-soaked. A foreign weight tugs at my hair. I touch it, fingers brushing something small, hard, cold.
A tracker.
I swear under my breath.
This guy is smooth. Too smooth. We need to be careful.
Jade is boiling.
Her anger is wildfire.
HE TOUCHED US.
WHY DID WE NOT KILL HIM?
Because he has magic, I snap, pacing the room, mind racing. Because he knows about alphas and can freeze a wolf with a finger. Because—if we try to fight him without a plan—we die.
She hates logic. She hates fear.
She hates that she froze under him.
We need the bug off safely, I say.
Let's find something to cut.
A drawer reveals scissors. Not ideal, but workable. I acknowledge the risk of messing with the device, so I don’t. I chop all of my long auburn hair off, chunks falling heavy, ugly, uneven. Shoulder-length now.
I look deranged.
I don’t care.
Jade mourns.
Hair is status. Display. Beauty.
Get over it, I mutter.
I scatter my hair everywhere, burying the bug deep in the desk’s back corner.
Now we go.
I creep to the door, listening for movement. Nothing. We slip into the hallway—quiet, empty, too empty.
I hate this, I whisper inside.
It feels like a trap.
I agree, Jade replies. But we need our mate.
I backtrack, moving with careful steps, ears tuned. We find the hospital room destroyed. Blood everywhere. No bodies.
My stomach churns.
Jade is unmoved.
Bodies mean danger.
Blood means victory.
My shredded clothes lie in ruins.
JADE. Those were my favorite pants!
She gives a smug, unapologetic shrug.
They got in the way.
I rummage through the cabinets and find scrubs, tugging them on quickly. They smell sterile, wrong, not me.
Outside the windows, patrol wolves circle the grounds.
Relief slips through me.
Maybe we’re not alone.
---------------
MAL
“This is, and always will be, a dumb training test,” I growl to my parents.
They sit in the surveillance room, watching my mate on the cameras.
Watching her like she’s a lab rat.
I thought she’d be safe.
I was wrong.
As soon as she shifted, Selena sent me to the helicopter—no warning. No time. This “training” was built by my great-grandparents, a test to evaluate rogue wolves joining the pack. Survival, control, ferality.
My mother says, “Mal, we need to make sure she isn’t a Lenning like her parents. Besides, she’s doing wonderfully. She’ll be an excellent wolf.”
They don’t know she’s my mate.
Thanks to Selena.
If they knew, I’d be locked down, not watching from miles away.
“Have either of you contacted Selena?” I ask. My gut is ice. My wolf is restless. Selena is my half-sister; we don’t get along, but she’s reliable.
My parents exchange looks—pale, frantic. They mind-link pack members. I know the signs of panic.
“Mal, do you know something we don’t?” my father asks.
“All I know is that ever since Luna got taken, I can’t feel her. That shouldn’t be possible.”
They bolt for the door.
I look at the monitor.
The rogue leader is staring into the camera—into me.
He waves.
Slow. Mocking. Sexy, in a terrifying, lethal way.
Then he vanishes.
A glitch, I tell myself.
A glitch.
Mal, mate is in danger. I feel it.
Cold dread metal-punches my chest. I glance back at the feed—
He’s standing right behind her.
---------------
LUNA
The room drops ten degrees.
Jade senses him before our eyes or ears do.
We turn slowly.
He’s sprawled on a hospital bed, casual, predatory, gorgeous in a feral way. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes like wildfire—red, gold, hunger. Muscular, relaxed, like danger is foreplay.
“Looks like we’ve got a shifter on our hands,” he taunts.
“You knew all along,” I say. “Don’t act surprised.”
He smirks.
“You know, your mate must be furious right now.”
My heart stops.
Jade snarls.
“Why would you say that?” I ask, voice too thin.
“He’s been watching you this whole time.” He nods at a camera. “His pack has a tradition. Simulated kidnapping. Builds survival instincts.”
He grins.
“I, however, saw an… opportune opportunity.”
“That’s not even—”
He moves—blur-fast—pinning me to a bed, caging me with his arms. His scent hits me: oak, smoke, winter storm.
My pulse jumps.
Jade is electrified.
I shove him—hard.
He flies across the room.
Shock flashes in his eyes.
Excitement follows.
Jade shifts us before I can think.
We bolt for the window.
Glass explodes around us. Cuts burn, but Jade doesn’t slow.
We land, run, breath ripping through us.
I look back.
He stands in the shattered window, finger tracing blood on glass. He licks it, staring right at me.
Jade hates the fear rising in my throat.
She wants to fight.
His bones twist, cracking grotesquely—then settle.
He grins. Crazed. Gorgeous. Deadly.
“MEN! GET HER AND BRING HER BACK! WE NEED HER ALIVE!”
Seven pairs of red eyes round the building.
Well, s**t.
- Writer
