Blood.
Blood.
There was blood on my hands. Sticky, warm, clinging under my nails like it belonged there, like it had always belonged there.
And Andrew.
Andrew was on the ground, his body twisted in an angle no living person could ever survive. His chest wasn't rising. His eyes weren't blinking. His lips were parted like he wanted to speak one last time but the words never made it out.
He wasn't breathing.
He wasn't moving.
He was dead.
I kept staring, waiting,hoping for something miraculous to happen, for him to twitch, gasp, curse me out, anything. But nothing happened. There was too much blood around him. Too much pooling beneath him. Too much splattered on the walls, on the floor, on me. It didn't make sense. It didn't look real. It looked like someone had painted the scene in front of me with every shade of red in the world.
My mind felt like it was sinking underwater. I couldn't feel my fingers. I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't even feel my own heartbeat. Something inside me cracked open, hollow and sharp.
Someone called my name, maybe from the hallway, maybe from outside. I couldn't tell. The voice sounded far away, warped, like it was coming through water. My ears were ringing so loudly it drowned out everything else. The metallic smell of blood, thick and choking, filled my nose until I wanted to retch.
How was he dead?
How?
We were just eating together. We were just talking. We were just laughing. It had been normal, peaceful, even. One moment everything was fine, and the next… this.
What happened?
What did I do?
What have I done?
My thoughts tangled together, messy and frantic, but none of them answered the only question that mattered. I felt like I had fallen into someone else's nightmare.
Then I heard the voices.
Deep, rough voices. Familiar ones. Andrew's men. His men, the ones who never left him for more than a few minutes. They were close. Too close. My stomach twisted painfully.
Fuck.
I had to get out. I had to move. But my legs were glued to the floor. My body refused to listen. I stood frozen in the same spot, just staring stupidly at my hands, at the drying blood between my fingers. If they walked in and saw me hovering over their Alpha's dead body… there wouldn't even be a trial. They would tear me apart before I got the chance to explain.
Move, I screamed at myself internally. Move, move, MOVE.
Finally, with every scrap of strength I could gather, I turned around. My muscles felt stiff, like they were cracking with each motion. My knees were trembling. But I forced myself toward the back door, inch by inch, my breaths thin and sharp.
I slipped out quietly, gently closing the door behind me like anything louder would shatter the world. The air outside was colder than inside, but it didn't clear my head. If anything, it made everything sharper, the panic, the fear, the certainty that I was finished if they caught me.
I walked calmly down the path leading toward the forest, keeping my posture straight even though my whole body shook. Every person I passed, I forced a smile at. A polite nod. A casual wave. I wasn't sure how convincing I looked with blood drying on my skin, but no one stopped me. No one noticed anything wrong. Or maybe they did and chose not to get involved.
The moment my foot crossed the line where the houses ended and the trees began, I ran.
I ran like something monstrous was chasing me, like death itself was clawing at my heels. The trees blurred. The wind slapped against my face. My lungs screamed for air, but I didn't stop. I didn't dare. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant collapsing, and collapsing meant dying.
I didn't look back. I couldn't. Because the forest pack was no longer my home. It wasn't even a safe zone. It had never been, not really. I was just too stubborn or too naive to admit it. But now? Now the truth was drenched all over my clothes.
They were going to come for me.
They were going to hunt me down.
And I had no idea how long I had before the entire pack knew the Alpha was dead.
My legs burned, but I pushed harder. Branches scratched my arms. My breath came out in painful gasps. I couldn't hear anything except the pounding of my own heartbeat and the crashing of my feet on dry leaves.
Don't stop.
Don't slow down.
Just keep going.
The forest around me grew darker the deeper I ran. Shadows stretched across the ground like grasping hands. The cold air stung my eyes, making them water. My chest felt tight, but my body refused to quit. Fear was a better fuel than anything I had ever known.
I imagined the moment they would find Andrew's body. The shouts. The rage. The orders to track me down. They wouldn't ask questions. They wouldn't listen. The pack didn't forgive. And they certainly didn't forget.
My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled, nearly falling face first into the dirt. I managed to stay upright, but it cost me another chunk of breath. A broken gasp ripped out of my throat. I pressed a hand against my chest and kept running.
My tears mixed with sweat.
Or maybe they were the same thing at this point.
I didn't know where I was going. I just knew it had to be far enough that no one could smell Andrew's blood on me. Far enough that no one would ever find me if they decided to hunt.
I didn't have a plan.
I didn't have supplies.
All I had was fear and the instinct to survive.
And so I ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Because if I stopped, if I even paused to breathe, they would catch me. And if they caught me, I was finished.