Esme's feet pounded against the earth as she fled the pack house, her white dress catching on branches and tearing with each desperate step. She didn't stop to grab a coat or shoes or anything else. She just ran.
The ceremonial hall's laughter still echoed in her ears, Derek's cruel words chasing her through the darkness. Her lungs burned and her chest ached, but she couldn't slow down. Wouldn't slow down.
Every step took her further from the humiliation, from the faces twisted with mockery, from the life that had just crumbled to dust around her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision as she stumbled through the pack territory. The familiar paths that had once felt like home now felt like a prison she was desperate to escape.
"Of course," she gasped between sobs, her voice breaking in the empty night. "Of course this would happen. What did you expect, you foolish girl?"
She tripped over a root and nearly went sprawling, catching herself against a tree trunk. The bark bit into her palms, but the pain felt distant compared to the agony ripping through her chest.
"A mere omega," she whispered, Derek's words poisoning her thoughts. "Weak. Worthless. Damaged goods."
The worst part was how right he sounded. How easily the pack had turned on her, like they had been waiting for permission to show their true feelings all along. Five years of thinking she belonged, of believing she'd found a family, and it had all been a lie.
She pushed herself away from the tree and kept running.
Past the training grounds where she'd watched Derek spar countless times. Past the gardens where she'd helped plant flowers for pack celebrations. Past every reminder of the naive girl who'd thought she could be Luna.
Her bare feet slapped against the ground, stones cutting into her soles, but she didn't care. She needed to get away. Needed to run until she couldn't hear their laughter anymore, until Derek's face stopped flashing behind her eyelids.
The pack house lights grew dimmer behind her as she reached the outer edges of their territory. She should stop here. Should turn around and face whatever came next.
But the thought of going back, of seeing those faces again, made her stomach lurch.
So she kept running.
The familiar scents of home faded as she crossed the boundary line, replaced by the wild, untamed smell of the borderlands. Her wolf whimpered in the back of her mind, sensing danger, but Esme ignored the warning. Right now, whatever lurked in the darkness felt less threatening than returning to face her humiliation.
Minutes blurred together as she ran deeper into the wilderness. Her dress was in tatters now, the delicate fabric no match for thorns and branches. Her carefully styled hair had come loose, hanging in tangles around her shoulders. The silver circlet that was supposed to mark her as Luna lay forgotten somewhere behind her.
Thirty minutes passed before exhaustion finally forced her to stop.
Esme collapsed against a massive oak tree, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Only then did she realize how far she'd run. The pack territory was nowhere to be seen. The familiar paths had given way to dense forest that she didn't recognize.
The woods stretched endlessly in every direction, dark and foreboding under the moon's pale light. Strange sounds echoed from the depths of the forest, rustling leaves, snapping twigs, calls from creatures she couldn't identify.
Fear crept up her spine like ice water.
"What have I done?" she whispered, looking around at the alien landscape.
She had heard stories about these woods. Dark stories that pack elders told to keep young wolves from wandering too far from home. This wasn't neutral territory. This was somewhere much more dangerous.
Her father's voice echoed in her memory, stories he'd told her as a child about the old days. Before the blood feud. Before everything went wrong.
"Vampires and werewolves used to be allies," he'd said, bouncing her on his knee. "We protected each other, shared territories, celebrated together under the same moon."
But that was before a werewolf elder had killed a vampire lord in cold blood. Before decades of mistrust had turned to outright war. Before vampires started hunting any werewolf who dared set foot in their territory.
Now, any wolf caught beyond pack boundaries after dark was considered fair game. The vampires didn't ask questions. They didn't show mercy. They simply killed.
A twig snapped somewhere behind her.
Esme froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. Slowly, she turned around, praying it was just a rabbit or a deer. Something harmless.
Instead, she found herself staring at the most beautiful and terrifying creature she'd ever seen.
He stood maybe twenty feet away, perfectly still among the trees like he'd materialized from the shadows themselves.
He was tall, and had broad shoulders. His skin was pale as moonlight, and silver-white hair fell in waves around his face.
To her mortification, his eyes were deep red, like rubies or fresh blood, glowing with an inhuman light as they fixed on her.
Vampire.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn't obey.
She could only stand there, frozen, as he studied her with those eyes.
"Well," he said, his voice soft and cultured, with an accent she couldn't place. "What do we have here?"
The sound of his voice broke her paralysis. "Please," she whispered, taking a stumbling step backward. "I didn't mean to—I was just—"
"A werewolf," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "In my territory. How... unexpected."
Terror closed her throat. This was it. This was how her pathetic story would end. Not with Derek's rejection or the pack's cruelty, but with fangs in her throat and her blood spilling across the forest floor.
"I'm sorry," she managed, her voice barely audible. "I'll leave. I'll go back—"
"Will you?" He tilted his head, studying her. "And where exactly would you go, little wolf? Back to whatever drove you to flee into vampire territory in the first place?"
The question hit too close to home. Tears she thought she'd cried out began flowing again, and she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how exposed she was. How utterly helpless.
"I—I can't," she whispered.
Something shifted in his expression, too quick for her to read. "No," he said quietly. "I don't suppose you can."
He took a step toward her, and panic flared in her chest.
"Please don't kill me," she sobbed, sinking to her knees in the dirt. "I know what my people did to yours. I know you have every right. But please—"
"Sleep."
The word hit her like a physical force, washing over her mind with a strength she could not resist. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, consciousness slipping away despite her attempts to hold onto it.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was those red eyes, watching her fall with something that might have been curiosity.
Or might have been hunger.