Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha Prince

Chapter22

Elara’s POV

Six days. It has been six days since I escaped the pack, and even though my pace is slow, I’m starting to think I might actually make it out alive.

No angry wolves. No search parties. Alpha Blackwood probably doesn’t care enough to waste resources hunting me down. Or maybe he really did buy that I’m dead.

I hope that’s the case.

I hope he and the rest of the pack think some shadow bear tore me to pieces and they never bother me again. The freedom I’ve felt in these past six days has been exhilarating. Despite the circumstances, the solitude of the forest is soothing. I don’t have to worry about anyone being cruel to me. I don’t have to hold myself so tightly wound up, waiting for the next blow to land on me. There’s nobody in this forest to look down on me or treat me like I don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

Weak laughter bubbles from my throat as I walk.

“What do you think, Luna? Should we just stay here?”

Luna rubs her head against mine as I scratch behind her ears, my body aching.

“You’re right. Life among humans will be better. Andrew’s going to be so surprised when he sees us.”

Luna sits perched on my shoulder, her amber eyes scanning the trees around us. She has been more alert than usual, ears swiveling at every sound, but I figure it’s just the stress of being away from home.

The paranoia that has been eating at me for days is finally starting to ease. Every snapping twig, every bird call, every shadow had me reaching for my knife. But as the hours have turned into days and there has been no sign of pursuit, I’ve begun to believe I have actually pulled this off.

“We’ll reach the human settlements eventually,” I mutter, consulting my hand-drawn map. It displays certain markers that I have to cross to make sure I remain on the right track. “Just need to get far enough away from the pack, and then we can—”

A sharp pain shoots through my left leg, making me stumble. I grab onto a nearby tree for support, gritting my teeth as the burning sensation spreads from knee to ankle.

“Damn it!”

I roll up my pant leg and immediately curse at what I see. The gashes are angry and red, the edges looking worse than they did yesterday. Pus oozes from the deepest cuts, and red streaks are starting to spread up toward my thigh.

“This is not good, Luna. Not good at all.”

I apply more healing paste, but it’s barely helping anymore. The fever that has been building all day makes my hands shake as I rewrap my wounds.

“Should’ve healed by now,” I mutter, leaning heavily on my walking stick. “Even without proper shifter healing, I should be doing better.”

My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything substantial in two days. The dried meat I brought is long gone, and my fruit supply is also dwindling. I may not have a wolf, but I’m still a shifter, and my body needs meat to heal properly, albeit slowly.

My good humor has begun to fade now as exhaustion creeps in. I open my knapsack and take out the last peach that I plucked from the tree in my garden the day before I left.

“I need protein,” I mumble, wiping sweat from my forehead despite the cool morning. “Real meat.” I glance around the forest, listening for signs of small game, but my ears are ringing slightly from the fever. “Should’ve brought my crossbow.”

While I’m good with knives, I’m better with a crossbow. The pack never gave me food rations, so I had to hunt my own meat. In my current state, though, I doubt I could catch an injured deer. Luna tilts her head, studying me with those knowing eyes.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t exactly carry it when we were escaping,” I tell her, my voice slightly hoarse.

I start walking again, each step sending fire through my leg.

“But you’re good at catching mice, right? Maybe you could catch something bigger?”

She gives me an annoyed look, and I smile weakly.

“Right. Stupid idea.” I wipe more sweat from my forehead, my skin feeling clammy. It’s comforting to be able to talk to Luna, even if she can’t reply.

“I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can make some snares, catch a rabbit or something.”

Even as I say it, however, I know I don’t have the energy or mobility to set proper traps. My leg is getting worse by the hour, and the fever is making it hard to think clearly.

By midday, I’m struggling to stay upright. Every step feels like someone is driving hot spikes through my leg, and my vision keeps swimming in and out of focus.

“Need to rest,” I gasp, leaning against a boulder. “Just for a few minutes.”

But those few minutes turn into an hour, and when I try to stand again, my leg nearly gives out completely.

“Come on, Elara,” I growl at myself. “Get it together. Freedom is waiting. You have to keep moving.”

Luna jumps down from my shoulder and starts walking ahead, glancing back at me expectantly.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not the one with these infected claw marks.”

The afternoon passes in a haze of pain and determination. I lose track of how many times I have to stop to rest, how many times I consider just lying down and giving up. But every time I think about quitting, I picture Alpha Blackwood’s satisfied smirk and Harper’s tears of relief, and I force myself to take another step.

As evening approaches, I realize I need to find a tree to sleep in. The thought of climbing fifteen feet with my injured leg makes me want to cry, but I don’t have a choice. The ground isn’t safe at night.

I find a suitable oak with low-hanging branches and stare up at it like it’s Mount Everest.

“Okay, Luna. Time for the fun part.”

She leaps gracefully from branch to branch while I struggle with the first handholds. My left leg screams in protest as I haul myself up, and by the time I reach a suitable sleeping spot, I’m dizzy with pain and exhaustion.

“Made it,” I pant, settling against the trunk with Luna curled in my lap. “See? Everything’s fine. Just need to sleep off this fever, and we’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

But as the night deepens, the fever gets worse. My whole body alternates between burning hot and ice cold, and I can’t stop shivering despite being wrapped in my cloak. The wound is infected worse than I thought, and without proper healing magic or the right herbs, it’s spreading through my system.

“Stay awake,” I mumble to myself. “Can’t fall asleep. Might fall out of the tree again.”

But my eyelids feel like they’re made of lead, and eventually, I can’t fight it anymore.

Tears of pain slip down my cheeks, loneliness and fear gripping me. There’s no one who will care if I die. No one aside from Andrew and my two friends. And even they will soon forget about me. No one will look for me or worry about me.