Three days.
That's how long I'd survived alone in the wild before they caught up with me.
Three days of scraping through Millie's dried meat, eating the crumbs until there was nothing left. Three days of hunting for water, finally stumbling across a stream on day two and drinking until my stomach cramped painfully. Three days of fitful sleep—never more than an hour at a time—jerking awake at every noise, the knife Millie had given me clutched tightly in my shaking hand.
My body was unraveling.
The pregnancy symptoms I'd battled back at the keep—nausea, dizziness, fatigue—had worsened without food or rest. My feet were raw and infected from wandering barefoot through the underbrush. The once-elegant gown was now little more than rags, useless against the cold nights.
And the pain in my belly was growing, constant and gnawing—not labor, but a reminder that time was running out.
I needed help. Shelter. Anything but this endless, desperate flight through the forest.
But there was nowhere left. No one to turn to. Just me, my unborn child, and a fading hope that we might survive.
I was searching for that stream again, my waterskin bone dry, when I heard footsteps behind me.
Not animal. Too deliberate.
I froze, muscles tense, hand darting to the knife at my waist.
"Well, well," a rough male voice said. "What do we have here?"
I spun, blade raised, and found five rogues blocking my escape, their scarred bodies marking them as survivors of the wild's cruelest corners.
The leader, tall and scarred, grinned with predatory hunger. "The rejected Luna. We've been tracking you for days, wondering how long you'd last."
I tightened my grip on the knife. "Back off."
Their laughter cracked through the trees like broken glass.
"Or what?" one circled like I was prey. "You gonna fight? You're barely standing."
He was right. I was weak, exhausted. The knife felt heavy in my hand. I didn't stand a chance against them.
But I had something they couldn't take.
"Leave me alone," I warned, voice steady despite the fear.
"No," the leader said, coming closer. "You're valuable. Not to your Alpha—he tossed you aside—but to us? You're a prize, entertainment, maybe even a meal once your pup is born."
The cruel smile lit a fire inside me—not the dead bond with Jasper, but a fierce rage born of betrayal and survival.
"Touch me," I said, voice cold and hard, "and I'll kill you."
They laughed again.
"With that?" the leader sneered. "Pregnant, wolf-less, weak. What do you think you'll do?"
He lunged.
Instinct took over. I dodged, slashed the knife across his arm, drawing blood. His startled yell was satisfaction itself.
"Bitch!" he cursed, grabbing for me, but I was already moving, spinning away, fueled by maternal instinct.
Another came at me. I ducked and jabbed the knife toward his stomach. It barely cut, but it was enough to draw blood.
"She's got teeth!" someone called, surprised.
"Doesn't matter," the leader said coldly. "Tire her out, then take what we want."
They attacked in waves, relentless and coordinated. I fought like an animal cornered—slashing, kicking, biting. I drew blood but was wearing down.
My lungs burned, vision blurred, the knife slipping.
Pain flared in my belly, sharp and stealing my breath.
"No," I gasped, clutching my stomach. "Not now—please."
The leader pounced, wrenching the knife from my hand and shoving me against a tree.
"Got you," he snarled, hand tightening around my throat.
The rogues closed in. I was trapped.
Another sharp pain hit, worse than before.
"Please," I gasped. "The baby—"
"Should've thought of that before fighting," he sneered, tightening his grip.
Then a howl split the night.
Not a rogue's yip, but something ancient and terrifying.
The rogues froze, loosening their grip, turning toward the sound.
"What was that?" one whispered.
The howl came again, nearer, louder, crashing through the underbrush.
"Run!" shouted the leader, shoving me aside. "Direwolf! Run!"
They scattered like leaves in a storm.
I collapsed against the tree, gasping, arms wrapped around my belly, pain still pulsing.
The shadow appeared—a massive shape moving with impossible speed.
The Direwolf stepped into the clearing.
Twice the size of any wolf I'd known, black fur streaked with silver, golden eyes glowing, scars marking its huge frame.
A monster from legends, the cursed bloodline.
And it was looking at me.
I should've fled while it was distracted. But my legs failed me. I slid down the tree and sat on the forest floor.
The Direwolf's head turned, then it gave chase.
What followed was carnage.
The first rogue fell immediately, jaws crushing. The second tried to shift but was caught mid-transformation.
Screams echoed, cut off by bone-breaking sounds.
I watched, frozen and horrified.
In minutes, all five were dead.
The Direwolf stood, chest heaving, blood dripping.
Then it locked eyes with me.
I pressed against the tree—nowhere left to run.
This was the end—saved from rogues only to meet something worse.
The Direwolf approached, calm and measured. It stopped a few paces away, head tilted like it was figuring me out.
Pain stabbed my belly. I cried out, clutching my stomach.
Its ears flattened. In those golden eyes, I thought I saw... concern.
Then it shifted.
Bones reshaped, fur melted away, revealing a man.
Massive, scarred, dark hair streaked with silver.
His face was rugged, marked by survival.
Those golden eyes studied me like prey.
His voice was rough, like gravel mixed with cold wind.
"Pathetic."
The word hung cold between us. He straightened, towering over me with detached scrutiny.
"You won't last out here," he said. "Weak. Wolf-less. Should've let the rogues finish you."
I stared, too drained to argue.
"Then why save me?" I whispered.
He hesitated, then cursed.
"Because I'm a fool who can't leave broken things to die."
Pain hit sharper. My vision dimmed.
His eyes softened, just a little.
"Damn it."
He knelt, hands rough but gentle, checking my pulse.
He cursed again, then lifted me effortlessly despite my protests.
Pain flared, and a whimper escaped.
"I know," he said softly. "Hold on."
Darkness swallowed me.
My fate now rested with a Direwolf who called me pathetic.
But I was alive.
Still alive.