Page 5 of Caught

His pulse pounded as he stepped forward. One step. Two. The safety of his home fell away behind him, replaced by the vast, waiting dark of the woods.

Then he ran.

The familiar trail stretched ahead, twisting through the hills, but tonight, it wasn’t just a path he knew by heart. Tonight, it was his only chance. Cold air burned his lungs. Muscles strained, his body adjusting to the rhythm of pursuit. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, watching him, whispering secrets in the wind.

He wasn’t a ranger now. He wasn’t a man who spent his days finding lost hikers and doing paperwork.

He was prey.

The thought sent a sharp jolt through him, one he refused to acknowledge. Instead, he pushed harder, faster, his breath ragged, his heartbeat a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

Then a howl, deep and resonant, rolled through the trees.

Evan’s stride faltered. Just for a second. Then he forced himself forward, lungs burning, legs aching.

The hunt had begun.

Chapter three

Silas

The forest was his kingdom.

Dark, endless, teeming with life and the pulse of the hunt. Silas moved through the trees with the effortless grace of a predator, his powerful frame cutting through the underbrush like a blade. Moonlight slashed through the canopy, catching on the sharp angles of his face, the silver in his dark hair.

The night was alive with the sounds of wolves claiming what was theirs—cries of surrender, of pleasure, of primal urges being sated.

And yet, he remained alone.

Another howl echoed through the hills. Another mate taken. His pack was thriving. They would return to the human world in the morning, sated, their instincts calmed. The same ritual, the same cycle.

And every year, Silas watched from the shadows, untouched by it. Unclaimed. Unmoved.

He caught a glimpse of one of his wolves in the clearing ahead—sprawled over a female, her body arching beneath his as he took what the hunt had promised him. Blonde hair fanned out in the dirt, her body pliant beneath the weight of the werewolf mounting her.

Their moans ripped through the air, raw and desperate, but Silas felt nothing. No heat, no hunger. Just a cold emptiness that gnawed at him deeper than any physical need.

He could feel the urge—his instincts screaming to claim, to dominate, to take. But he wasn’t like the others. He couldn’t settle for anyone.

He wanted a true mate, the one he was meant for. Only him.

The pack saw him as their alpha: strong, dominant, untouchable. But they didn’t understand. They didn’t feel what he felt. They were driven by instinct, by the need to claim a mate. But Silas had learned long ago that his instincts weren’t like theirs.

He wasn’t going to take a mate out of convenience. Not for power. Not for status.

The pack didn’t know what it was like to burn for someone who wasn’t there. To crave something you couldn’t have. But Silas did. And he’d wait for that.

The hunger twisted in his gut, sharp and desperate. But he shoved it down, burying the ache that pulsed in his chest. He would never claim someone who wasn’t his true mate. No matter how long it took.

The night air was crisp, laced with pine and damp earth. Beneath it all, he could smell the humans: sweat and nerves, the sharp tang of anticipation.

Some ran for the challenge. Others trembled with fear, waiting to be caught. Some pretended to the other humans to only be doing it for the money, but Silas saw their faces year after year,eyes rolled back in bliss as they let their secret fantasies come to life in the shadows.

And then—

A new scent. It slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.

Silas stopped cold. His breath left him in a slow, measured exhale. His heart, steady as stone, gave a single, brutal kick.

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