Page 5 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

Yet, no matter how focused she tried to stay, she couldn’t shake the prickling sensation of eyes on her. The forest teemed with life, but today, it felt different—more oppressive, more sinister. She found herself constantly glancing over her shoulder, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs putting her nerves on edge.

Paranoia, she told herself. Isolation was warping her senses. Or was it? Maybe something really was out there, lurking just beyond her perception, watching, waiting.

Her heart raced as she quickened her pace, nearly sprinting out of the trees until she stumbled into the clearing where her shack stood. The feeling of being watched didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified, coiling tighter in her chest like a snake ready to strike.

She paused at the door, scanning the treeline, her senses straining for any sign of movement. The forest held its breath, an unnatural stillness settling over the area. Every instinct screamed at her to retreat, but the thought of spending another night exposed in the open was worse.

With trembling hands, she fumbled with the latch and slipped inside, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in the silence of the shack. But she wasn’t safe. Not really. The familiar walls felt too close, too confining, as if they were closing in on her, trapping her with her fears.

This wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way, but it had never been this bad. Was this it? Was she really starting to unravel?

She forced herself to move, to distract herself with mundane tasks—sorting through the pitiful haul she’d brought back, stoking the fire, mending a tear in her clothes—anything to keep her mind from spiraling into darker places.

But the doubt remained, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. How long could she keep this up? How long before she became like those other rogues—lost to the madness, nothing left but a feral shell?

Her mind drifted to Mara, a she-wolf she’d crossed paths with years ago. Mara had been alone even longer than Wren, yet somehow, she thrived. Wren had envied her strength, her apparent contentment with solitude.

But the last time she saw Mara, that strength had cracked. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a wildness that sent chills down Wren’s spine. Mara’s words had been disjointed, paranoid ramblings about pack law and betrayals that made no sense. The encounter haunted Wren, a grim reminder of what awaited those who couldn’t hold on.

Is that my future?

Would she one day look in the mirror and see that same desperate madness staring back at her? The thought was almost paralyzing in its terror.

She clenched her fists, willing the thoughts away. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t. But how long could she really last on her own? How many more years of isolation could she endure before it finally broke her?

The oppressive silence grew thicker. Shadows danced outside her window, twisting into shapes that set her imagination ablaze. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the warmth of the fire, the crackling of the logs, anything tangible.

But even as she sat there, the questions swirled in her mind, relentless and unforgiving.

What would her parents say if they could see her now? Would they be proud that she’d survived this long or disappointed that she’d allowed herself to become so isolated? Would they tell her to keep fighting or urge her to seek out others, to try and reconnect?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine their voices. Her mother’s gentle encouragement. Her father’s unwavering support. For a moment, she could almost feel them beside her, their presence a balm to her frayed nerves.

But when she opened her eyes, they were gone, leaving only the shadows and silence. The emptiness pressed in on her, heavier than ever. Was this all there was for her now? A life spent running from phantoms, haunted by the echoes of what she’d lost?

An endless cycle of survival, each day blending into the next until she finally lost her grip on sanity? The thought was almost too much to bear.

No!

She refused to accept that. Her parents didn't sacrifice themselves just for her to give up. They believed in her, believed that she could forge a life for herself even in the face of unimaginable loss. She owed it to them—and to herself—to keep trying.

But what did that mean, exactly? Did she stay here, clinging to the familiar routine she'd built for herself? Or did she take a risk, venture out beyond the boundaries she'd set, and try to find...

What?

A new pack? A family of her own?

The very idea was terrifying. She'd been alone for so long that she wasn't sure she even remembered how to interact with others anymore. What if she was too far gone, too damaged by years of isolation, to form meaningful connections?

And yet... the alternative was unthinkable. To slowly lose herself, to become the very thing she'd feared and hated for so long. She didn’t want that. Whatever the risks, she had to try.

The reality of her decision sank in, and she felt a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. It was a goal to work toward, however daunting it might be.

She stood up, her half-eaten meal forgotten as a new energy coursed through her. If she was going to do this, she needed to prepare. Gather supplies, plan a route, and try to remember everything her parents taught her about navigating the wider world of werewolf society.

Moving around the shack, her mind racing with possibilities and potential dangers, she caught sight of herself in the mirror once again.

The woman looking back at her still looked tired, still bore the marks of years of hardship and solitude. But there was something different in her eyes now. A spark of hope, however faint.

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