The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, the trees standing tall and silent like ancient sentinels. Opal moved swiftly through the underbrush, her breaths shallow and controlled, her muscles taut with tension. Each step was deliberate, her senses heightened, her instincts on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, mingling with the faintest traces of her pursuers.
They're close. Too close.
Her heart thudded against her ribs as she fought to stay calm. She had no idea how far Briarcliff's territory stretched, but she knew she needed to cross the border before nightfall. If they caught her in the dark, she would be at their mercy. And she already knew they had none.
She ducked behind a cluster of thick bushes, her fingers digging into the rough bark of a nearby tree. She forced herself to slow her breathing, her ears straining to pick up any sound. A branch snapped somewhere to her left, followed by the faint murmur of voices.
"Spread out!" a gruff voice commanded. "She couldn't have gotten far."
Opal's pulse quickened. They were closing in. Her only advantage was the terrain—dense and tangled, perfect for hiding if she was smart. She pressed herself lower to the ground, the leaves cold and damp against her skin.
"How does a little thing like her disappear so fast?" another voice muttered, frustration thick in his tone.
"Think Azeala got to her?" a third voice asked, his words laced with suspicion.
Opal's stomach churned at the mention of the witch's name. Her fingers tightened around the tree bark, the rough surface grounding her as panic threatened to rise.
"I don't care who got to her," the first guard snapped. "We find her. Alpha Marcus wants her back—alive, if possible. If not…" His voice trailed off, the implication clear.
Opal's blood ran cold. She was expendable.
A growl rumbled in the distance, low and menacing. Opal's heart skipped a beat. They were shifting—trading words for fangs and claws. They were done talking.
She had to move. Now.
Opal slipped from her hiding spot, her movements fluid and silent. She kept low, weaving through the trees, her body pressed close to the ground. Her senses were on high alert, her ears catching every whisper of the wind, every rustle of the leaves.
She froze as a shadow passed just a few yards ahead—a massive wolf, its fur dark as midnight, its eyes gleaming with predatory intent. It sniffed the air, its head turning in her direction. Opal's breath caught, her body going rigid.
Don't move. Don't breathe.
The wolf's nose twitched, its ears flicking back as it scanned the area. Its muscles were taut, its body poised to strike. Opal's heart raced, the blood roaring in her ears. If it saw her, she was dead.
The wolf let out a low growl, then moved on, its powerful body slipping through the shadows with terrifying grace. Opal didn't dare move until she could no longer hear its footsteps.
She released the breath she'd been holding, her chest burning. She couldn't afford another close call like that. Her scent was masked—for now—but she didn't know how long it would last. Whatever magic had hidden her, it wasn't infallible.
She pressed on, her steps careful and measured. She avoided the open paths, sticking to the densest parts of the forest where the trees grew close and the shadows were deepest. She navigated by instinct, her body moving with a wolf's grace even in human form.
A voice echoed through the trees, sharp and impatient. "Anything?"
"Nothing," another voice replied, annoyance heavy in his words. "Her scent just… vanished. It doesn't make sense."
"Think she's got some kind of trick up her sleeve?"
Opal's lips curled into a grim smile. If only they knew. She wasn't helpless, and she wasn't without resources. She may have been running, but she wasn't beaten. Not yet.
The voices moved away, their footsteps fading. Opal continued forward, her eyes fixed on the fading light. She had to reach the border before darkness fell. She had to find her brothers.
A sudden rustle behind her made her freeze. She whipped around, her eyes wide, her muscles coiled to fight or flee. But it was just a rabbit, darting out from beneath a fallen log. It stopped briefly, its nose twitching, its tiny body trembling. Then it was gone, vanishing into the underbrush.
Opal let out a shaky breath, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She was wound too tight, her nerves fraying. She needed to get herself under control.
Keep moving. You can fall apart later. After you're safe.
The forest began to thin, the trees growing sparser, the undergrowth less tangled. The air was cooler, crisper. She was getting close.
She followed a narrow trail that wound through the trees, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, her senses on high alert. Every muscle in her body was tense, ready to spring.
A low growl shattered the silence. Opal's heart dropped as she turned to see three wolves stepping onto the trail behind her, their eyes locked on her, their bodies crouched low.
"No," she whispered, her blood turning to ice. She was outnumbered, cornered. There was nowhere to run.
One of the wolves shifted, his form rippling and contorting until a man stood in his place. He was tall and broad, his face twisted into a cruel smile. "Found you," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Thought you could outrun us, did you?"
Opal's body vibrated with fear and fury. She took a step back, her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm leaving. You can't stop me."
The man's laughter was sharp and cold. "Can't stop you? Little girl, you're on Briarcliff land. You're not going anywhere."
The other wolves circled around her, their teeth bared, their eyes hungry. Opal's heart raced, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
The man took a step closer, his smile widening. "You shouldn't have run, Opal. Now you'll face the consequences."
Opal's body trembled, anger and fear warring inside her. She took another step back, her spine pressing against the rough bark of a tree. There was no escape.
The man reached out, his hand closing around her arm, his grip like iron. "Alpha Marcus said alive if possible," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "But he won't mind if you're a little broken."
Something snapped inside Opal. She let out a fierce snarl, her body surging with raw power. Her vision blurred, her senses sharpening. Her muscles coiled, and she lashed out, her foot connecting with his knee.
He shouted in pain, his grip loosening. Opal didn't hesitate. She twisted out of his hold, her body moving on instinct. She shoved him back, his body crashing into one of the wolves behind him.
She ran, her legs pumping, her heart thundering. The wolves howled in rage, their footsteps pounding behind her. She didn't look back. She couldn't.
Branches tore at her clothes, the wind howling in her ears. Her lungs burned, her legs screaming in protest. But she kept running, her eyes fixed on the thinning trees ahead.
She burst through the treeline, the ground sloping downward. She stumbled, her body pitching forward. She threw out her hands, catching herself just before she hit the ground.
She looked up, her breath catching. Beyond the hill was open land—a border. Freedom.
A howl split the air, closer than before. Opal pushed herself up, her body screaming in agony. She had to keep moving. She had to survive.
She took off down the hill, the wolves' howls echoing behind her. She wouldn't stop. She wouldn't fall.
She was Opal, daughter of the Alpha, sister of warriors. And she was not giving up without a fight.