The Lost One

Chapter 3

It had been almost fifteen hours since Aislinn had left the Academy and nothing had gone the way she had wanted.

It had been nearly and hour since she had felt them cross her scent. She'd gotten sloppy with fatigue, and her mistakes cost her. After 15 minutes trying to run and escape them, she had made the desperate decision to barricade herself in confines of an ancient soaring oak. She felt a dark humor rise within her as she pondered her situation. Five years of planning, waiting, and dreaming and it was all slipping through her fingers. She eyed the dark forest around her, fuck!, she swore darkly turning back to stare down at the ground.

The soft moonlight illuminated the scene so that combined with her enhanced vision she could easily watch as the enraged council rogues took turns trying to leap into the tree. They growled at her, howling in anger and rage, as they desperately tried to climb the tree in wolf form. Her face was impassive as she considered them. She had not shifted, instead she stood in her human form calmly considering her options. Unfortunately for them, and herself, there weren't many. Her head snapped up suddenly, pulling her from her musing as she searched through the thick dense trees.

Unlike the beasts below Aislinn did not miss the approach of the Salvatori wolves. Another wrench in her plans she internally grumbled, she never meant to wander onto pack land. In fact, the entirety of her plans depended on her existence never even being known, and preferably never acknowledged, by any of the packs.

Mac! She sneered in her head. The man was a thorn in her side that wouldn't stop. She eyed the rogues frothing on the ground snapping at her, eyes rage and lust fueled. Not hard to tell who had managed to stick them on her trail. Of course, that left the question of how the hell he had found her. Again. She shook her head, lips nearly turning down in a frown before she pushed the thoughts and feelings away. Problem for another day. And a debt I will be sure to repay with interest. She growled, turning back to the issue at hand –the pack wolves were edging closer to the rogues still to intent on their prey – on her- to catch their scents. Idiots. She sighed disgusted. But then I've let myself get caught just as thoroughly as they have. She thought dejectedly as she eyed the wolves again. Letting her mind widen just a touch she let her lids flutter closed, focusing, not just pack wolves, and not just any territory. An Alpha Heir, of course it was. And Salvatori at that. Perfect. Sarcasm thick enough on her thoughts she was surprised she didn't choke on it.

Unbeknownst to her, or perhaps to simply spite her one last time, fate had decided that five years of dedicated planning and strategizing was worth absolutely fucking nothing.

Sometimes she truly hated fate, sometimes she hated it nearly as much as she hated them. Forcing herself away from her irritation, she tried to surrender to the new twist fate was weaving into her life. Aislinn knew better than anyone that one could not simply run from fate.

Or fight it.

Or ignore it.

Or change it.

No matter how much one wanted to.

She had tried.

Tried and failed. Failed miserably. She let out a sigh in her mind. Wasn't her life enough? Couldn't she just have this one thing? Didn't she deserve at least this? Looking down again she guessed she could assume the answer was a resounding, NO.

She watched detachedly from her perch as the rogues that had tracked her were viciously ripped apart. Hidden in the safety of the old tree she ignored the growls and cries as she tried to figure out which parts, if any, of her plans she might still be able to salvage. Her mind racing as the last throat was ripped from its body.