Page 7 of Fated Alpha Protector

Chapter 3

MIA

~ An Hour Earlier ~

Panting in wolf form is pathetic. But I’ve never done this before. The pain that slices through my side is faint, but still evident enough to cause panic.

The werewolves of Blackclaw watch me from the top of the cliff. Waiting. Lord knows what they’re waiting for. With suspicious beady wolf eyes, they glare at me where I’ve fallen.

Struggling with paws that are at least three times the size of human feet, I’m finally able to stand.

That’s when Darren, the Blackclaw Beta, begins the descent of the cliff. With calculated steps, he climbs down as he watches me with suspiciously narrowed eyes.

Each step of his fills my gut with churning dread. A feeling of impending danger that threatens abuse. Torture, at their hands.

That’s when I realize that they have no idea who I am. They’ve never seen my wolf before.

Neither have I. I don’t have a clue what I look like. Only what I feel in wolf form. Awkward. Terse. A rollercoaster of emotions I’ve never experienced before.

Right now, it’s fear that dominates my being.

Pressing my eyelids closed, I attempt to use the mind link. Something I’ve only ever heard of before.

The Blackclaw wolves use the mind link shared with other members of the pack to communicate while in wolf form. They’d often brag about it in my presence.

Because they knew that I had never experienced it before.

‘It’s me, Mia,’ my inner voice echoes in my mind. When I open my eyes, I’m surprised to find that the other wolves have begun following Darren down the cliff.

I close my eyes as panic rises like bile in my wolf throat. ‘Please, Blackclaw wolves. I’m Mia.’

Opening my eyes again, I’m only met with the critically suspicious growls of the Blackclaw wolves.

Not only do they not recognize me. They also can’t hear the mind link I’m trying to send.

The panic in my chest coils until it’s unbearable to stay stagnant. My flight or fight response kicks in, the former winning the tug-of-war. Spinning on my hind legs, I glance over my shoulder.

Just as I suspected, the Blackclaw wolves believe I’m a threat. As their steps quicken. I look out ahead of me and start running.

Behind me, the ground shakes as Blackclaw gives chase. All I can do is run, focusing on the ground ahead of me so that I don’t stumble and fall again.

Everything around me flashes past in a haze of brilliant colors. Greens and browns, occasional pastel pinks, and lavenders. I don’t have time to stop and cherish the gift of the wolf I’d just received.

The snarly howl that rings out from behind echoes through the forest. It fills my eardrums with the menace behind the howl, propelling me forward.

I near the Blackclaw border, the wolves hot on my heels. There’s no way I can stand up to six trained wolves. I have no choice but to cross the Blackclaw border, into uncharted territory.

Not looking back, I keep running. Further southwest, using the river as my only guide. At least if I use the Missouri River as my breadcrumbs, I can trace my way back to Rocheport.

The further along I go, the quieter my surroundings become. When the only thing I hear is the hooting of an owl, I slow down. The silence of the forest is eerie and I can’t help thinking that they’re still hunting me.

I slow my pace keeping a wearie eye behind me in case I need to run again. They must have given up when I crossed the border. An imaginary line, where none of the Blackclaw wolves are allowed to cross in their wolf forms.

I’m able to breathe again. Though it’s in wolf form, I relish the coolness of the brisk air as it fills my lungs.

Still panting, my knees quiver under my weight. Threatening to buckle. Haphazardly making my way toward the river, I fall onto my belly.

The relief of water on my tongue is immense. Cool and calming, I lap at the river water, basking in the comfort it provides. I’m so deep into the relaxation I feel, that I’m only alerted when I hear the sound of a twig cracking.

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