And there, tucked into a crevice between two massive stones, I caught a glimpse of white linen.
Dalvin.
He'd found shelter in the rocks, a defensible position that offered cover from above and limited approaches from below. Smart, even in panic. Even terrified out of his mind, some part of him had remembered to think.
I didn't approach.
Instead, I found a position fifty yards out, behind a fallen pine that offered a clear sightline to his hiding spot. I settled my back against the trunk, set my pack beside me, and waited.
The forest darkened around me. Stars emerged through gaps in the canopy, cold and distant, their light too faint to reach the forest floor. An owl called somewhere to the east, its hollow cry echoing off the rocks. The temperature dropped steadily, mountain air seeping through my jacket, raising goosebumps along my arms.
I didn't mind the cold. The forge had taught me patience with discomfort. Hours of standing before the heat, sweat soaking through my clothes, muscles screaming from the repetitive swing of the hammer. This was nothing compared to that. This was just waiting.
Somewhere in the rocks, I heard Dalvin shift. Heard the rustle of fabric against stone. Heard the quick catch of his breath as he startled at some sound I couldn't identify.
He wasn't sleeping. Neither was I.
Hours passed. I ate from my pack without tasting the food, mechanically fueling a body that would need strength tomorrow. Drank water. Adjusted my position when my legs cramped. The night grew colder still, frost forming on the fallen needles around me, but I didn't build a fire. Didn't want to announce my presence any more than necessary.
I just watched. And waited.
The moon rose late, a thin crescent that offered little light but marked the passage of time. Three hours until dawn. Then six hours until the alphas who hadn't made claims would grow desperate, would start taking risks, would hunt harder and faster as the deadline approached.
Mercer would be out there too. Moving through the darkness with military precision, tracking Dalvin's scent the same way I had. He wouldn't stop for rest. Men in his profession didn't need comfort. They needed results.
I flexed my hands, feeling the calluses on my palms, the strength in my fingers. I had shaped iron with these hands. Had bent metal to my will through patience and heat and precisely applied force. I could do the same to anyone who tried to take Dalvin from me.
But first, I needed Dalvin to understand that I wasn't another predator.
He had been chased his whole life. By parents who saw him as currency. By Vernon who saw him as property. By a system that treated omegas as prizes to be won rather than people to be loved.
I wasn't going to chase him. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could help it.
When he was ready to talk, I would be here. When he was ready to choose, I would offer myself as an option. And if hechose someone else, if he looked at me and saw only the past he wanted to escape, I would let him go.
***
Chapter 5
Dalvin
The rocks pressed cold against my back, sharp edges finding every bruise I'd earned in my blind flight through the forest. I'd wedged myself into a crevice between two boulders, a space barely wide enough for my shoulders, and I hadn't moved in hours.
My feet throbbed. I'd torn them open on roots and stones during the run, and the blood had dried to a sticky crust that pulled at the wounds whenever I shifted position. The white linen of my pants was filthy now, stained with dirt and pine sap and rust-colored smears from my own body. I looked nothing like the groomed omega who had stood in the great hall that morning.
Good. I didn't want to be that person anymore.
The small pack they'd given us at the ceremony sat beside me, its contents meager but essential. Two bottles of water, half of one already gone. Energy bars that tasted like sawdust and desperation. A thin emergency blanket, reflective silver, designed to trap body heat. A small first aid kit I'd already raided for bandages.
Basic supplies for basic survival. Nothing that would help me outrun what was coming.
The heat had started building hours ago.
It began as a flush across my chest, warmth spreading beneath my skin despite the cooling evening air. Then camethe sensitivity, every nerve ending amplifying sensation until the rough linen against my nipples felt abrasive and the breeze across my neck raised goosebumps that bordered on painful. My scent had shifted too, the familiar bergamot deepening into honeyed warmth, a biological advertisement I couldn't turn off.
The cramps would come next. I knew the pattern, had lived through enough heats under Vernon's control to recognize the stages. First the warmth, then the sensitivity, then the low ache in my belly that would build into waves of need so intense they blotted out rational thought. I had maybe twelve hours before the worst of it hit. Twelve hours to find a different alpha, to get claimed by someone who wasn't Min-ho, to sever Vernon's bond before my body made the choice for me.
I pressed my palms flat against the cold stone and focused on breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The technique had gotten me through eight years with Vernon. It would get me through this.
