Serenya's POV
I tear through the alley, paws slapping hard against the asphalt, heart hammering in a rhythm that feels too loud, too frantic, as if it might crack open my ribs from the inside. The world blurs around me in streaks of gray and black, every shadow elongated by the glow of distant streetlamps. Each stride sends a jolt through my legs. My claws scrape against concrete slick with the remnants of earlier rain, and the cold bites at the pads of my feet.
My breath bursts out in ragged, uneven huffs. The sharp metallic tang of the city fills my nose — exhaust fumes, rust, the faint acrid sting of spilled gasoline — all of it swirling into a haze that muddles my senses, drowning out the lingering scent of those who chased me. I pray it’s enough. I pray the city’s chaos hides me the
