The Alpha's Daughter
856 Words
Branches tore at Nyxara’s arms as she ran.
The forest blurred around her, shadows stretching and twisting beneath the crimson moon. Every breath burned in her chest, but she didn’t slow down.
She couldn’t.
Behind her, the howl came.
Long.
Loud.
Furious.
Nyxara’s heart dropped.
Her father had released the hunters.
More howls followed, echoing through the mountains. The pack had already spread out.
They were tracking her.
Of course they were.
Nyxara pushed herself faster, leaping over fallen logs and crashing through thick undergrowth. Her boots slipped on wet leaves, but she caught herself before falling.
You can’t stop.
If they caught her, they would drag her back to the altar.
And this time, she knew her father wouldn’t hesitate.
The ritual would happen whether she wanted it or not.
Another howl rang out—closer this time.
Nyxara cursed under her breath.
“They’re already gaining,” she whispered.
Her wolf senses were sharper than most, but the hunters were experienced. They knew these woods better than anyone.
And they had numbers.
Nyxara darted between two massive oak trees and slid down a steep slope, landing hard at the bottom. Pain shot through her ankle, but she ignored it.
Keep moving.
She could already smell them now.
Wolves.
Their scent drifted through the night air—earthy, wild, and unmistakable.
Too close.
Nyxara’s breathing grew heavier as panic tried to claw its way into her mind.
Think.
She needed distance.
Or a distraction.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the forest.
“Nyxara!”
Her body froze.
That voice…
She turned slightly, scanning the darkness.
A figure appeared on the ridge above her.
Tall.
Broad.
Familiar.
Ragnar.
Even from this distance, his golden eyes burned like fire in the night.
“Daughter,” he called, his voice calm but commanding. “This is pointless.”
Nyxara’s chest tightened.
“You cannot outrun the pack,” Ragnar continued. “Come back.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Come back?” she shouted. “So you can chain me to that altar?”
Ragnar’s expression hardened.
“You were born for this.”
“No,” Nyxara snapped. “I was born to be free.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of the approaching hunters.
Ragnar sighed.
“You disappoint me.”
Nyxara’s jaw tightened.
“You’re turning our pack into monsters,” she replied.
The Alpha’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“We are becoming stronger.”
“You’re becoming tyrants!”
A low growl escaped Ragnar’s throat.
“You speak like a frightened child.”
“And you speak like someone who has already lost his mind.”
For a split second, rage crossed his face.
Then he raised his hand.
And the forest exploded with movement.
Wolves burst from the trees.
Three from the left.
Two from the right.
Another leaped down behind her.
Nyxara’s pulse skyrocketed.
They had surrounded her.
The hunters shifted partially, their bodies halfway between human and wolf. Claws gleamed in the moonlight.
Their eyes were glowing.
Predatory.
Ragnar stepped down the ridge slowly.
“It’s over,” he said.
Nyxara’s mind raced.
Five hunters.
And her father.
Even if she fought, she couldn’t defeat them all.
But surrender wasn’t an option.
Not while Seraphyne was still trapped in that pack.
Nyxara closed her eyes briefly.
Then she let the wolf inside her rise.
Heat surged through her body.
Her bones shifted.
Pain rippled through her muscles as the transformation began.
Her fingers curled into claws.
Dark fur spread across her arms.
Her eyes flared bright gold.
The hunters hesitated.
Nyxara opened her eyes again.
They glowed like burning embers.
“You wanted the Alpha’s daughter,” she said quietly.
Her voice had changed.
Deeper.
More primal.
“Come and take her.”
The nearest hunter lunged first.
Nyxara moved before he could reach her.
Her claws slashed through the air, knocking him aside with shocking force.
Another wolf attacked from the right.
She spun, kicking him hard in the chest.
He crashed into a tree with a painful crack.
But two more rushed her at the same time.
Nyxara barely dodged the first strike.
Claws grazed her shoulder, tearing through her jacket.
Pain flared hot.
She growled.
The wolf inside her surged stronger.
Nyxara leaped forward, striking again, her claws raking across the hunter’s arm.
He stumbled backward.
For a moment, the clearing went still.
The hunters stared at her in disbelief.
Her hybrid form was stronger than they expected.
Even Ragnar looked surprised.
But then his expression darkened.
“Enough games.”
He stepped forward.
The ground itself seemed to tremble under his weight.
Nyxara’s stomach dropped.
If her father joined the fight…
She wouldn’t survive.
Ragnar’s voice echoed like thunder.
“Bring her down.”
The hunters moved again.
Nyxara’s mind screamed one command.
Run.
Before they could attack, she spun and sprinted deeper into the forest.
Branches whipped past her face.
Her lungs burned.
Her heart pounded.
But she didn’t stop.
Behind her, the howls returned.
The hunt was far from over.
And somewhere ahead…
The unknown waited.
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