Talia and Her Three Alphas

Where the Wolves Follow

TALIA



“You need to run—” Jarrick grits through his teeth, voice shaking like he’s holding the shift back, hands already tearing at the knots. “Moon’s up. They’ll follow the strongest scent.”

“Jarrick—”

“When I let go, you run for the east hall. The door's unbarred. Got it?”

I nod.

His eyes hold mine for half a breath BEFORE I crawl—**fast, wild, animal—**and my back jerks sideways with a shift that hits too soon.

No.

I can’t shift right now.

The door. East hall. I see it—ten strides, no—eight, maybe six now—I don’t count, I don’t breathe, I just move because behind me, I hear them

Paws.

Bones.

Growls.

“TALIA RUN!”

Jarrick’s behind me, half-shifted, his growl shaking the walls. A howl answers from ahead—Tres or Malrik, I can’t tell—but it’s close, too close, and the door’s just a smear of dark at the far end.

They're getting closer. s**t.

I fall into the room with the last of my momentum, throwing the door shut and locking them out. The wood jumps under my spine—the Alpha hitting it full force.

Claws split the grain. His growl is so close it vibrates through my tailbone, crawling inside my hips like a second heartbeat.

I press my back into the door, panting into my own shoulder.

“Open it.”

“Little omega…” Malrik? His voice is a purr. Filth-warm. “…I can smell your heat.”

Tres growls next. Lower. Meaner. Hungry.

“You think this door will stop us? We were made to take you.”

The lock jumps. Wood cracks. My body jerks again. I crawl to the window checking if I can just jump outside but it’s no use. There’s a drawer and I force myself to move it to block the door.

“She’s hiding from her Alphas.”

The f**k I am.

The drawer jumps. I press my face to the corner wall, suck air through my teeth, chest shaking. If I can just stay here until dawn, I’ll be fine. The heat breaks with sun. That’s the rule.

But goddess—rules don’t mean s**t when there’s three of them.

It shouldn’t have been like this. Alphas aren’t supposed to share. The Moon never makes mistakes. Three of them?

I press my palms to the floor, feeling my wolf clawing out of me. If I shift in here, I won’t make it out.

Wolves don’t think. Wolves submit.And I’ve seen what happens when an omega submits to three unclaimed Alphas in heat.

I shove the dresser back but it’s useless—they’re breaking through. My vision whites. Heat tearing through my spine. I shift—half-shift—bones wrenching in the wrong order.

The window.

It’s my only way out.

I throw myself at it, shoulder first, claws dragging glass down with me. The crash swallows their growls. My blood hits the dirt before I do.

“Run, little omega. See how far you get.”

I hit the ground on all fours—claws first, knees tearing raw, blood in my mouth from the fall.

They’re coming.

I don’t look back. I run.

The trees break open around me.

Branches whip my face. Heat’s pouring off me in waves—raw, shameful, ripe. I know they can smell it. My Alphas. My curse. My f*****g undoing.

Above me, the moonlight shines as if it’s mocking me. I have known this forest since I was young so it's easy for me to run for them. There’s a cave. I know where. If I can just stay ahead, if my legs hold, if my claws don’t snap—

I can make it. I can f*****g make it.

The ground tips under me then the ridge. Shit.I tumble—rocks, bark, dirt slashing under fur—and I can’t slow it, paws scrabbling, claws raking nothing, body thrown sideways through trees. Branches hit me. I hit back.

My ribs scream. My ankle twists wrong—no—no, it resets mid-roll, wolf healing too fast, too brutal, too raw to help.

I crash at the bottom in a heap of fur and blood and breath.

Can’t breathe.

Can't—

A mewl breaks out of me, humiliating, low and soft like a cub’s, and I hate it. Hate how it slips free like heat from my gut, shame-pitched and helpless.

The forest spins.

My vision pulses—white, black, silver—moon above me, still watching, still owning me, and I smell them, their scent carving through the trees like knives.

Malrik.

Tres.

Jarrick.

I try to lift my head. My paw jerks. Nothing moves right. The shift cost me. The heat’s still burning in my belly, curling deep, dripping out of me with every breath.

They’ll find me.

They’ll take me.

I pass out before I can stop it.

—

The dark doesn’t stay dark.

Something wet hits my flank—spit, breath, a growl I can’t name—and I come to with my cheek half-buried in blood-warm dirt, ribs cracked open against the forest floor.

Shit, what happened to me?

I groan and drag my arm under me, nails torn, shoulder raw. My whole body’s screaming. Scraped, filthy, leaking.

A breath—low, animal, close—and something shifts in the dirt beside me.

I turn my head, slow, broken-jointed slow.

And they’re there.

All three.

Malrik’s crouched closest, one hand on the ground, the other fisted in nothing, his chest heaving, eyes golden-bright. “Had a fun night?”

Their eyes never leave me.

Jarrick shifts first. Silent. Always the quiet one. He shrugs off his jacket, and puts it on me. "She's wounded and the guards will patrol this area soon. Let me take care of her."

Malrik chuckles. “ Acting hero now, brother?"

I lift my head, barely. “What... happened?”

Jarrick kneels beside me, one knee in the dirt, eyes scanning my face like he’s checking for bruises. " We all lost control last night, it's better if you come with me to the office--"

"No," Malrik says, " You'll treat her in the pack house."

Jarrick’s shoulders tense. Just slightly. “It’s cleaner in the medical wing. She’s—”

“She’s not a patient.” Malrik’s eyes cut sharp toward me, then back to him. “She’s ours.”

My heart kicks.

Jarrick doesn’t move. “She’s in shock.”

“She’s in heat,” Tres says, voice curling from the trees behind them. “Don’t pretend it’s not why you’re rushing to get her alone.”

I flinch. The burn in my gut stirs again—hotter now, crueler, shame-laced and thick.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I snap, voice rough, broken. “Don’t talk like I’m some dying rabbit.”

Malrik steps closer. Too close. His boots graze my knee where I’m still crouched low in the dirt. I pull the jacket tighter around me.

“You shifted for the first time without help,” he says. “Fell. Bled. Woke up naked in the woods with three Alphas breathing down your throat. You’re not a rabbit, little one. But you’re not fooling anyone either.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m taking her to the office,” Jarrick says, rising again.

“No.” Malrik’s already walking forward, his bare chest still heaving from the shift. “You’re not hiding her in your den like she’s yours.”

“She’s not yours either,” Jarrick snaps, low.

Tres growls behind them. His shift’s only halfway done—claws still out, his mouth too sharp, his eyes glowing. “Enough. We bring her back. Pack house. She gets treated where we can see her. She’s an omega in heat, not a f*****g secret.”

Jarrick bristles, but he looks at me again. My body’s sagging now, the heat still pulsing low in my belly, the shame of it burning hotter than blood.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

I try. My knees slip out from under me, and I hiss as the jacket shifts open.

Malrik growls. “Pick her up.”

Jarrick lifts me before I can protest—arms under my legs, chest to mine. He’s hot. Scalding. Too close. His pulse beats against my ribs.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and I don’t know why but my body melts into it.