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1205 Words
Maya’s throat tightened. Her mouth parted to call his name—but then—
Fuck.
Two guards walked in.
She panicked.
Her instincts flared, her wolf whimpered weakly in her chest like it was behind bars.
She couldn't risk it—not now. Not with them scanning the room like hounds sniffing for blood. She ducked low, her heart threatening to rupture.
She slid under a nearby table, pressing her back to the leg as footsteps thudded close. Her body trembled with each breath.
From her hiding spot, she watched as Elder James glanced around—his eyes passed right over her.
"Please see me," she begged in silence.
But he didn’t.
He took one last sip from his glass, then stood and walked out of the bar like she never existed.
Maya’s throat burned.
She bit back the scream crawling up her chest, hands trembling in silent rage and sorrow.
She wanted to tear something apart. She wanted to call out to him, scream that his daughter is here.
But she couldn’t.
The guards were too close, and she couldn’t even f*****g mind-link him. Scarlett—her wolf—was too damn weak, too chained by whatever curse Gaia had poisoned her with.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
But then—a distraction.
“Someone saw her—half-naked, running this way!” one of the guards shouted.
They were now shouting over the music, questioning a drunk beta at the counter.
Maya didn’t wait.
She bolted out from under the table like a shadow on fire, slipping between clusters of wolves too drunk to notice the ghost moving past them. Her breath hitched as she made it to the edge of the bar’s exit.
Almost free.
But then she slammed into someone. Hard.
She hit the ground so fast the air left her lungs. Pain shot up her spine, but it wasn’t the fall that froze her.
It was the aura.
She felt it before she even looked up.
Dominant. Commanding. Deadly.
Alpha.
And it didn’t just make her wolf stir—it made it shrink in fear.
She looked up, heart pounding in her throat.
He wore a silver mask—sharp-edged and expressionless. But his energy was unmistakable. He was no ordinary alpha. He felt ancient. Deadly. The kind of man who ruled not with politics, but with power.
Before Maya could move, the lights flickered.
Then—gunshots.
Loud. Sudden. f*****g chaotic.
Screams erupted. The bar plunged into darkness.
Maya dropped flat, her hands over her head, crawling low between broken chairs and shattered glasses as bullets tore through the room. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. She tasted fear in her mouth. This wasn’t a raid. This was a hit.
Who the f**k is shooting?!
She had to get out.
Crawling through the shadows like a hunted animal, she made it to the back door and shoved it open with her shoulder.
She staggered into the night air—cold, damp, alive with distant screams. But before she could catch her breath, a body slammed into her shoulder, nearly sending her flying.
She stumbled but kept her balance.
The other figure wasn’t as lucky.
He collapsed on the ground, groaning, clutching his chest.
Maya’s breath caught.
It was him—the masked alpha.
She should’ve run.
Fuck, she wanted to run.
But she couldn’t ignore the smell of blood. The way his body twitched with pain. The silver glow coming from the bullet embedded in his chest.
"Silver bullet," Her stomach twisted.
That s**t burned. Slow, cruel, and merciless. She knew because she’d used them before—on rogues. The silver didn’t just pierce; it corrupted. Even if you pulled it out, the fire stayed beneath the skin, eating you alive.
He was dying.
“s**t,” she muttered and dropped to her knees beside him.
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a snarl. “Don’t f*****g touch me!” he growled, voice low and guttural, like gravel on steel.
His aura flared—intimidating as hell—but Maya didn’t flinch. “Calm down,” she snapped. “I’m trying to help you, asshole.”
He blinked.
Surprised.
No one talked to an Alpha like that.
Especially not some dirt-covered rogue girl with nothing but leaves and adrenaline.
But something in her tone—desperation, maybe madness—made him stop fighting.
Maya ran into the small forest patch beside the bar, plucking the one plant she knew could slow the burning. The leaves cut her hands, but she didn’t stop.
She ran back and crouched beside him again, her voice softer now.
“This is gonna hurt like hell,” she said.
He nodded once, his breath ragged.
She tore open his shirt. The wound was ugly, red, and burning silver-blue. Her stomach twisted at the sight.
Without hesitation, she dug her fingers in, wincing as the bullet scorched her skin. Her hand sizzled, the pain making her scream—but she yanked it free and threw the bullet aside.
He growled in agony, eyes flashing beneath the mask.
Then she crushed the leaves in her palm and smeared the juice into his wound, then onto her own blistering hand.
They both hissed in pain.
His breathing slowed.
The glow faded, the silver burn was easing.
He blinked up at her—eyes unreadable behind the mask—but fixed on her like she was a f*****g puzzle he couldn’t stop solving.
She felt it, she felt the weight of his gaze.
He was staring. Like no one had stared at her in a long, long time.
Maya shifted uncomfortably. “What?” she snapped.
“How the f**k do you know how to do that?” His voice was hoarse, suspicious.
Maya looked around, paranoid. “I just do.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I owe you one, girl.” He sat up slowly, groaning then reached for her hand.
She tried to pull back, but he caught her wrist again—this time gentler.
His voice dropped. “I owe you. You saved my life. And that’s not something I let go unpaid. What do you want? Yacht? Properties? Mansions? Name them”
His hand was still on hers—warm now, not dominant. It made her nervous.
Her chest was rising and falling too fast. Not just from adrenaline now. She was touching him.
Feeling every defined line of muscle under her fingertips. Her hand still rested on his bare chest—scarred and strong.
And then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Dozens.
They were coming for her.
She looked down at her bruised feet. Blood coated her soles. She couldn’t run anymore—not tonight.
“f**k,” she whispered.
His gaze darkened like he could read her mind. “You can’t outrun them, can you?”
“No,” she breathed, voice trembling. “I can’t.”
Her eyes met his—wild, desperate, pleading. “Abduct me,” she whispered. “Please.”
He tilted his head.
“I’m serious,” Maya said, stepping closer. “Take me. Save me from my own f*****g pack. You said you owe me—well, cash it in.”
- Writer
