The Messenger

Escape

The noise of the ceremony pressed in from all sides—applause, murmurs, the scrape of chairs against the floor—but Iva felt strangely detached from it all, as if she were already standing on the other side of something final.

She leaned closer to Lori and whispered, her voice low but steady,

“I need to go to the restroom.”

Lori turned to her at once, brows knitting together. “Now? Are you sure? Not everyone received yet the diplomas, plus that the Alpha is about to give the final speech.”

Iva pressed a hand against her stomach, forcing a faint grimace onto her face. “I think I ate something bad. I have really bad cramps. I don’t think I can stand here much longer.”

Concern flickered across Lori’s features. “I can come with you—”

“No.” Iva caught her wrist gently but firmly. She shook her head, lowering her voice even more. “Don’t be silly. You know how sensitive and proud the Alpha is. I’m already the pariah of the pack—if I disrupt things further, it’ll be noticed. You’re different, Lori. Please. Stay.”

Lori hesitated, torn, then finally nodded. “Okay… but don’t take too long.”

Iva offered a small, tight smile. “I won’t.”

That was the last lie she would ever tell here.

She slipped away from the crowd, keeping her head down, moving at a pace that wouldn’t draw attention. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she was sure someone would hear it. Each step felt like walking on a blade—one wrong move, one familiar voice calling her name, and everything would collapse.

She reached the restroom of the school and locked herself inside a stall, hands shaking as the adrenaline finally surged.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay. Don’t panic, don’t panic. Keep it together.”

She quickly removed the items strapped beneath her graduation robe—small, carefully chosen things she couldn’t afford to lose—and stuffed them into her backpack. Every rustle of fabric sounded too loud. Every second felt stolen.

She straightened and faced the mirror.

The girl staring back at her looked older than she remembered. Her eyes were brighter, sharper, filled with fear—but also with something unbreakable. Resolve.

“This is it,” she murmured.

For the last time, she smoothed her hair, removed her robe, and memorized her reflection. Then she turned away and slipped out, timing her exit with a swell of applause as the Alpha’s voice carried through the hall.

No one noticed her leave.

Avalon’s presence wrapped around her mind the moment she crossed the threshold.

I’ve masked our scent. Calm your breathing. You’re doing well.

Iva didn’t slow until she reached the edge of the grounds. The lights, the voices faded behind her as the trees loomed ahead—dark, waiting, alive.

Her pulse roared as she stepped into the forest.

Once the cover of leaves and shadows swallowed her, she moved quickly, deeper, farther, until the sounds of civilization were gone entirely. There, with trembling fingers, she shrugged off her clothes ad stuffed them in the bag, tied the backpack against her body, and took a steadying breath.

The forest smelled like freedom.

“This will be your second shift,” Avalon said gently. “Give me control. Trust me.”

Iva closed her eyes. Fear surged—raw and primal—but she didn’t fight it.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “I fully trust you, Avalon. Let’s go.”

The shift tore through her like lightning—bone and muscle reshaping, senses exploding into sharp clarity. Pain flared, brief but fierce, and then—

Then she was grounded.

Paws hit the forest floor, light and powerful. The world burst into sound and scent and motion. Her body felt smaller, faster, unburdened.

“Run,” Iva urged, her voice fierce and exhilarated. “Run now.”

And Avalon did.

She sprinted through the trees, weaving between trunks, leaping over roots and fallen branches with instinctive grace. The pack, the Alpha, Nick, Ella, Mark, her father, the lies, the cruelty—all of it fell away with every stride.

Behind her was a life that tried to break her.

Ahead lay the unknown.

She didn’t look back.

Not once.

--

The forest had thinned, the trees standing farther apart now, their roots tangled like veins near the surface of the earth. The air itself felt different—lighter, sharper, humming with a warning Iva could not quite name. She felt it in her chest, in the way Avalon’s stride changed.

Without warning, Avalon slowed.

Not stopped—never that—but the wild, liberating sprint eased into a careful, almost silent lope. Her paws placed themselves with deliberate precision, avoiding snapping twigs, skirting patches of dry leaves. The shadows became allies again.

“Why are we slowing down?” Iva asked, her mind still buzzing with adrenaline and the excitement of their first run. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything is right,” Avalon replied, her voice low, focused. “Which is exactly why we must not attract attention. The closer we are to the border, the more sensitive the land becomes. Patrols. Residual pack scents. Old wards. If we can pass unnoticed, we will. Plus we need to do something else … important.”

Iva swallowed, her awareness sharpening. “Okay…”Then adding in confusion, “What something else?”

Avalon hesitated.

The pause alone made Iva’s chest tighten. “What?” she asked, frowning inwardly, her mind racing through every detail—provisions, direction, distance, timing. Had they forgotten something vital?

Avalon finally spoke, her tone quieter, almost solemn.

“We need to free ourselves from the mate bond—if we want even the slightest chance at a possible second-chance mate.”

The words landed like a blow.

“What…?” Iva went utterly still inside her own body. “Free ourselves?”

Avalon continued, gently but firmly, as if she knew this would hurt.

“Now that we have sensed the bond, it will not stay silent. From this moment on, every time Nick touches another she-wolf, every time he shares intimacy, affection, or desire with someone else… we will feel it. The agony of betrayal. Again and again.”

“What?!” Iva’s voice rang in her head, sharp with disbelief and horror. “You’re saying I would feel that? Every time?”

“Yes,” Avalon answered softly. “That is the cruelty of a fated bond once it is awakened.”

Iva’s thoughts spiraled. “But—what about chosen mates?”

Avalon replied. “You will still feel the backlash until the original bond is fully severed. With chosen mates, once the marking is complete, the fated bond is broken permanently. Until then… the pain lingers.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Avalon’s voice dropped even further, almost hesitant.

“Unless… you have changed your mind. Unless you still hope Nick will accept us.”

The question pierced deeper than Iva expected.

Images flashed—Nick’s smirk, his laughter, his cruel words, the slap of humiliation in front of others, the lies that nearly destroyed her life.

“No,” Iva said immediately, her resolve hard as steel. “I’ve made my decision. Even if he accepted us now… it wouldn’t erase what he did. The cruelty. The unnecessary torment. He is a future Alpha, Avalon. And his behavior already tells me everything about the kind of leader—and mate—he would be.”

She paused, then added quietly, “We are better without him.”

Avalon exhaled, a sound like relief.

“I agree.”

“But how do we reject him?” Iva asked, confusion creeping back in. “The bond isn’t fully formed. He’s not here. It needs acceptance from what I know, and he never—"

“There is a loophole,” Avalon interrupted gently. “A rare one that not many know about it.”

Iva listened, breath held.

“When you told him we were fated,” Avalon continued, “and he mocked you, denied it, and rejected you publicly—he rejected the bond. Us. That moment matters. It counts.”

Iva’s heart skipped.

“We don’t need to say that we reject him, but we can accept his rejection,” Avalon said. “Right now. Before we cross the border.”

Iva’s pulse thundered. “Why not after?”

“Once we say the words,” Avalon replied, her voice sharpening with certainty, “the rejection will finalize. The pain will hit him suddenly and violently. It will distract him. Distract the Alpha. Distract the entire pack and give us the necessary cover.”

A cold understanding dawned on Iva.

“Even if I was never initiated,” she murmured, “the Alpha would still sense me leaving.”

“Yes,” Avalon confirmed. “But Nick’s pain will mask that moment. It will blur the things. Buy us time.”

Iva didn’t hesitate.

Her fear crystallized into resolve, clear and unshakable.

“Let’s do it,” she said decisively. “Now.”

Avalon slowed even more, the border just ahead, unseen but felt in the very bones of the land.

“Then speak it,” Avalon urged softly. “And when you do… do not look back. Not in thought. Not in heart.”

Iva drew a steady breath, the forest holding its silence.

Whatever she was about to lose—

She was finally choosing herself.