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Run from Me, If You Can Novel Cover

Run from Me, If You Can

Three years later, I returned, not as the unwanted orphan, but as the emissary of the most powerful Lycan King in the North. I walked into the ballroom, my scent masked, my eyes hidden behind a gilded mask, my red dress clinging to curves that hadn't existed when I left. The moment I stepped in, the air shifted, heavy with pheromones and danger. I felt his gaze before I saw him; Killian, more savage and terrifying than before, sat on his throne, swirling a glass of whiskey. His nostrils flared, his pupils dilating as he caught a trace of a scent that should have been dead. He stood up, the crowd parting like the sea before a storm, and stalked towards me with predatory grace. His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, trapping me, his hot breath ghosting over my neck, making my wolf whimper in treacherous desire. "Who are you?" he growled, his voice vibrating through my very bones, threatening to shatter my disguise. I leaned in, brushing my lips against his ear, whispering the words that would haunt him. "Someone you cannot afford to touch, Alpha."
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Chapter 3

The rain hammered against my skin like frozen bullets, each drop a reminder of how far I'd fallen. My fever burned through me in waves, making the world tilt and spin as I stumbled through the muddy wasteland beyond our pack's borders. The rejection wound in my chest felt like a gaping hole, raw and bleeding, but somehow I kept moving.

One foot in front of the other. That was all I could manage.

My clothes were soaked through, clinging to my shivering frame like a second skin. The designer dress I'd worn to Killian's birthday celebration—the one I'd saved for months to buy—was now torn and stained with mud and blood. A fitting metaphor for my shattered dreams.

Another wave of fever hit me, and I collapsed to my knees in the thick mud. The cold seeped through my bones, but the fire in my blood burned hotter. My wolf was silent, retreating deep inside where the rejection couldn't reach her. She was protecting herself the only way she knew how—by disappearing entirely.

"Get up," I whispered through chattering teeth. "You have to get up."

But my body wouldn't listen. The fever was winning, pulling me down into darkness where the pain couldn't follow. I could feel myself starting to slip away, my consciousness fading like smoke on the wind.

Then I felt it.

A warmth in my abdomen, gentle but insistent. Not the burning fever that consumed the rest of me, but something else entirely. Something protective. The sensation spread outward like golden honey, wrapping around my heart and lungs, shielding my vital organs from the worst of the fever's assault.

My eyes snapped open, rain blurring my vision. What was that? The warmth pulsed again, stronger this time, and with it came an overwhelming sense of... determination. Not my own, but something smaller, more fragile. Something fighting with every ounce of strength it possessed.

Something that needed me to survive.

The realization hit me like lightning. The nausea, the exhaustion, the strange cravings I'd been having. I'd attributed it all to stress, to the mate bond's effects, but now...

"Oh gods," I breathed, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. "You're there, aren't you?"

The warmth pulsed again, as if in answer. My baby. Killian's baby, though he would never know it. The tiny life growing inside me was fighting to protect us both, lending me strength when I had none left.

For him. For her. For this precious secret that was mine alone.

I forced myself to my feet, swaying but standing. The fever still raged, but the protective warmth in my core gave me something to hold onto. My baby needed me to be strong, needed me to survive this nightmare.

"I won't let you down," I whispered, my voice lost in the storm. "I promise."

I started walking again, each step a monumental effort. The landscape around me was barren and hostile, nothing but rocks and scrubland stretching endlessly in every direction. This was rogue territory, the no-man's-land between pack borders where only the desperate and dangerous dared to venture.

A howl echoed through the night, closer than I'd like. Then another, answering from a different direction. My blood turned to ice as I realized what that meant.

Rogue wolves. And they'd caught my scent.

Panic flooded through me, but beneath it, something else stirred. The warmth in my abdomen pulsed urgently, and with it came a fierce protectiveness I'd never felt before. These rogues weren't just threatening me—they were threatening my child.

I could hear them now, paws splashing through the mud as they closed in from multiple directions. Three, maybe four of them. In my weakened state, I should have been terrified. Should have been preparing to die.

Instead, I felt my lips pull back in a snarl.

The first rogue emerged from the darkness like a nightmare made flesh. His fur was matted and scarred, his eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. He was massive, easily twice my size, with yellowed fangs that promised a painful death.

"Well, well," he growled, his voice rough from years of violence. "What do we have here? A little lost pup, all alone in the big bad world?"

Two more rogues flanked him, their postures relaxed and confident. They thought I was easy prey. A weak little omega who would cower and beg for mercy.

They had no idea what they were dealing with.

"Please," I whispered, letting my voice shake with feigned terror. "I'm just trying to find shelter. I don't want any trouble."

The lead rogue laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, sweetheart, you found trouble the moment you set foot in our territory. But don't worry—we'll make it quick. Mostly."

He lunged forward, jaws snapping toward my throat. In the past, I would have screamed. Would have frozen in terror and waited for death to claim me.

But that was before. Before I had something worth protecting.

Instinct took over, primal and absolute. I ducked under his attack and came up inside his guard, my teeth finding the soft flesh of his throat before my conscious mind even registered what I was doing. The taste of copper flooded my mouth—hot, metallic, intoxicating.

Power.

I bit down harder, my canines—sharper than they'd ever been—piercing through skin and muscle until I felt his windpipe collapse beneath my jaws. His struggles grew weaker, more desperate, until finally he went limp.

I released him and stepped back, blood dripping from my lips. The other two rogues stared at me in shock, their confidence evaporating like morning mist.

"Impossible," one of them breathed. "She's just an omega."

But I wasn't just anything anymore. I was a mother protecting her young, and that made me more dangerous than any Alpha.

The taste of blood on my tongue was like awakening from a long dream. For the first time in my life, I understood what real strength felt like. Not the borrowed power of a mate bond or pack hierarchy, but something that came from within. Something that belonged entirely to me.

The remaining rogues exchanged nervous glances, suddenly unsure of their odds. They'd expected easy prey and found a predator instead.

"Your move," I said softly, my voice carrying a new edge that made them flinch.

The warmth in my abdomen pulsed again, and I smiled. My baby had given me the strength to fight back. Now it was time to show the world what we were really capable of.

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