They’re Hunters,my mind insists, too slow to process the difference.They’re going to hurt you again.
But that’s not right.Their scents are different from the Hunters.Not harsh.Not chemical-soaked.But warm and earthen.They’re wolves.I haven’t smelled real wolves in ...I don’t know how long.
The lock snaps with a metallic crack.The man in front, the one with storm eyes, pushes the door open.
He waits.
He doesn’t rush me.
Doesn’t bark orders.
Doesn’t grab me like I’m a thing.
He waits.
My fingers shake as I crawl forward.My muscles burn as though they’re tearing from my bones.I move because I know staying in this cage means death.Not freedom.Just the next phase of suffering.
My leopard stirs faintly under the drugs, like a whisper.Go.Move.
When I’m close enough, he slides his arms under me.Warm, solid, and so incredibly careful.The contact should make me recoil, but my body goes limp instead.Too weak to fight.Too tired to care.
The moment he lifts me, the heat between us sparks again then stutters.Fails.Breaks.
His breath catches.His arms tense like he’s holding back something feral.I want to tell him I’m sorry.That I’m too far gone.That my animal can’t answer.That I might be beyond the Goddess’s reach.
But I can’t speak.I let the darkness swallow me again.
****
Icome back to consciousnessslowly.I’m being carried.The movement is uneven, bouncing.The steady rhythm of running feet as the wind whips past us and frigid night air bites my cheeks.
Someone shouts to the left.A crash sounds behind us.A roar, terrible and powerful, answers it.
Then the man carrying me swears loudly.“It’s a fucking trap!Move!Move!”
My eyes blink open.Light slices across my vision.Trees.Moon.Chaos.We’re outside.We’re actually escaping.I’m so excited I start to tremble.A hand touches my back, gentle and grounding.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs.“Stay with me.”
Safe.The word vibrates in my chest in a way nothing else has for years.I try to cling to it, but terror claws at my throat.I hear gunfire.Screams.Wolves howling and snarling.
He holds me tighter, bracing my head against his shoulder so I won’t see what he’s running through.It’s too much.My breath hiccups and my skin goes cold.I want to shift.I want my leopard out.I want her to protect me.But she’s terrified too.
The last time we shifted in front of strangers, they drugged us until she curled into a corner of my mind and stopped trying.She doesn’t trust anyone.
Not even me.
Not anymore.
I shake uncontrollably.
“We’re almost out,” he promises, his voice rough with something like desperation.“Just hold on.”
Hold on.Hold...
I fold back into darkness again.
I don’t know how long I was out, but when I wake again, everything is warm.Soft.Quiet.The air smells like cedar and incense and something clean, like fresh rain.It pulls at something deep inside me, something instinctive, feral, and wounded.
