Chapter 3: The Price of Freedom

A thunderous, predatory growl rattled the very foundations of the packhouse, snapping me violently out of my exhaustion. The sheer, unadulterated dominance vibrating through the air was suffocating. Alpha Malakor was furious.

I have to leave. Now.

The terrifying realization gripped my chest; if I stayed to endure another one of his calculated beatings, my body would finally fail me. My luck had officially run out.

"Let me take the reins, Aurelia. Let me handle this, and I will get us past the gates," Karlee’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and steady.

"Are you sure? Do you have enough strength left?" I asked, my mental voice trembling with anxiety.

She offered a firm, unyielding nod. "I am certain. Let me go."

With a silent prayer to the Moon Goddess, I stepped back, relinquishing absolute control over our physical form. While my consciousness remained tethered to our eyes, allowing me to witness every movement, I was merely a passenger in my own body.

Karlee didn't waste a heartbeat. She hurled our weight against the heavy attic door, creating a frantic, rhythmic din that echoed through the stairwell. Within ten seconds, the iron bolt slid back, and the door swung open to reveal two low-ranking guards, their faces twisted in annoyance.

"Cease that racket, you worthless bitch," one sneered, stepping across the threshold.

Without a shred of warning, Karlee lunged. The guard had anticipated a broken, cowering omega; he had zero time to construct a defense. Karlee drove a flawless, explosive punch straight into his jaw, the raw impact sending him staggering backward into the corridor.

The second sentry recovered quickly, tackling us to the hard floorboards. As his heavy frame pinned our chest, a dark flash of recognition pierced my mind. He was the guard who had forced me to crawl and kiss his mud-stained boots in front of the entire assembly, all because I had accidentally dropped a glass cup during my chores.

Karlee drove her knee upward with savage precision, striking him squarely in the groin. His face contorted into a silent scream of agony as a low grunt escaped his lips, and he collapsed over our form, clutching his mangled anatomy. Karlee threw his heavy weight off us and scrambled to her feet, but the delay allowed the first guard to recover. He landed a heavy, sweeping blow to our shoulder, shattering our balance.

Karlee’s physical response was a fraction of a second too slow, enabling him to lock his fingers into our tattered clothing. She spun around to face him, and with a terrifying, lethal speed I didn't know our body possessed, she plunged her bare hand directly into his chest cavity.

I felt it through our shared sensory link—the sickening sensation of her fingers tearing through muscle and bone to grip his beating heart. The wet, fleshy texture was entirely foreign, a horrific contrast against our skin. Karlee locked her fingers around the organ, staring directly into his widening, terrified eyes, and ripped it completely free from his chest.

The wet, tearing sound of the arteries detaching was utterly repulsive.

His lifeless body hit the floorboards with a dull thud, and Karlee carelessly dropped the severed heart beside him. To guarantee they could never recover or track my escape, she extracted her sharp claws and cleanly slit the throats of both guards—ignoring the fact that the first was already a corpse. She was operating entirely on primal survival instincts, completely detached from the reality of the carnage she had wrought.

Once the threat was neutralized, she rapidly patted down their uniforms, searching for a blade or a set of keys, but found nothing of utility. She turned her focus to the structural layout of the upper level, hunting for an exit.

We slipped down to the second-floor corridor, but the heavy scent of multiple wolves barred our path. The entire pack was occupied; the warriors were assembled on the training fields, and every single unmated female had been ordered to a mandatory audience with a visiting Alpha named Valerius. Attempting to navigate the lower levels meant certain capture.

I should have evaluated the pack schedule before blindly running down here,

I thought, a wave of panic rising in my throat.

Karlee retreated, scaling the carved plaster walls back into the apex of the attic. She scanned the shadows until her eyes locked onto the small, rusted ventilation window—the solitary frame I had spent years staring through to catch a glimpse of the outside world. The opening was miniscule, but our severe, long-term malnutrition worked to our advantage; our fragile frame could slide through the gap.

Squeezing through the iron bars, Karlee dropped onto a narrow stone ledge, navigating the exterior perimeter until she reached the east-facing side of the packhouse structure. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaped into the open air.

Mid-drop, the shift consumed us. A small, snow-white wolf hit the forest floor and instantly bolted into the dense labyrinth of ancient pines. The violent altercation in the attic had burned through the absolute maximum of our hoarded energy, and exhaustion was already pulling at our muscles.

As we neared the outer perimeter of the Dark Moon lands, the heavy scent of patrol warriors cut through the pine air. Operating with absolute stealth, Karlee wove through the undergrowth, slipping past their defensive line unnoticed, and vaulted across the heavy border territory mark.

The moment our paws cleared the boundary, a violent rush of crisp, unaligned air blasted against our muzzle. It felt like absolute life flooding back into my withered lungs. I was euphoric.

I escaped. I am finally free.

The wind rushed through my white fur as we broke into an absolute sprint, desperate to put as much physical distance as possible between our soul and that sadistic house of horrors.

When we reached the shores of a small, secluded lake, Karlee stepped back, handing absolute physical control back to my consciousness. I collapsed by the water's edge, lapping at the cool liquid until my burning throat was thoroughly satisfied. Once my thirst was quenched, I picked himself up and continued to run, steering my path toward the northern ridges. I prayed to the Moon Goddess that I would stumble upon a kinder, civilized pack—one that wouldn't view my broken form as a target, one that would accept my existence, where an attic wouldn't serve as my sanctuary, and where I could finally live without constantly looking over my shoulder in absolute terror. I just wanted a shred of happiness.

I used to believe that happiness was an outdated illusion. If someone had told me three years ago that I would successfully break my chains and run toward a better life, I would have laughed bitterly in their face—before weeping at the crushing realization that my reality was never going to improve.

I pushed my limbs faster, but the severe toll of my compromised health was rapidly accumulating. My lungs burned, and my muscles trembled violently. It was a heavy physical tax my body could no longer afford to pay.

I would have traded my soul for a semi-decent existence—a life where my skin wasn't a tapestry of horrific silver scars and deep burn marks. I just wanted to be a free woman. Yet, a toxic wave of self-loathing washed over me; I hated myself for failing to preserve my purity for my fated mate.

That is assuming I even have one,

I thought bitterly. Malakor’s cruel parting words echoed in my mind:

“You don’t deserve a mate because you’re a worthless, broken slut. Even if the Goddess granted you one, he would reject you the moment he saw your ugly, scarred flesh. You don’t deserve love because you murdered Garrick.”

"I did not kill him!" I screamed into the empty forest, the sound breaking into a sob. I loved my father with every fiber of my being. It was those savage, bloodthirsty rogues that ripped him away.

I missed his protective warmth every single day. He was the solitary soul who would have shielded me from the pack’s malice, the only one who possessed the strength to stand against Malakor’s tyranny. A dark, intrusive thought whispered that if I hadn't begged him to take me out into the woods that morning, he would still be drawing breath. I wouldn't have been branded a murderer, and I wouldn't have endured years of systemic abuse. If I could rewrite the past, I would do it in a heartbeat.

I continued my frantic pace for another hour until, without warning, I collided heavily with what felt like a solid, immovable stone wall.

Karlee let out a sharp, pained whimper as we tumbled into the dirt. But as I struggled to rise, an undeniable, breathtaking scent drifted into my nose. My heart leaped into an absolute frenzy, the rhythm hammering against my ribs. The air was thick with the scent of fresh, crisp rain and sweet vanilla.

Mate.

The word slipped past my lips in a breathless whisper just as the dark, heavy edges of exhaustion finally consumed my mind, and I cascaded into the waiting blackness.