Dangerous Alpha

The Run

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." John 3:16
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Hunter's POV:

Running. It's all I've been doing for hours. I don't have the nearest clue where I'm going, or what my exact plan is, but all I know is that I had to get out of there.

Abuse. It's what I've dealt with for years. When my parents died, I was left to my deadbeat uncle who wanted nothing to do with me. So, he sold me to a pack of vile rogues. I've lived with them for most of my life. The only thing they've ever done for me was allow me to receive an education. And with that education, I'm going to create a new life.

It wasn't difficult to get away. Over the years, the rogues and my "adoptive parents" have grown too cocky. They figured they'd broken me already. Wrong. I'm stronger than ever. So when everyone but the old, senile werewolves went to crash a nearby hunting festival, I took my chance.

I packed a small backpack of food, water, and gloves. I said goodbye to the pet dog, Stevie, and the devil cat Merna. I said goodbye to the rotting dump of a farmhouse I called home, and walked out the front door. Never looking back. Once I was out of the other houses view, I made my run for it.

I've decided not to shift during my escape. My wolf is too weak. My adoptive parents never let me use my werewolf abilities. They always wanted to make sure I was weaker than them. But I worked out my human body behind their back, making it so I don't even need my wolf unless it's an emergency. So jokes on them.

I'm running, running, and running, until the sleeve of my jacket gets caught on a branch and sends me flying backwards, landing me flat on my ass. Yet another hole is made. Good thing this is the style now.

I can't sense any pack lines so who knows how long it'll be until I reach some form of civilization. I hope it's not too long. I'd really prefer to not gain my freedom to only starve to death from it. Or be eternally lost in the woods.

My legs are growing tired but I don't want to stop. The rogues won't be back until tomorrow, but I'd much rather be as far as possible from them as I can. I'm pretty good as persevering through tough times, so I keep running. And running. And running.

Time keeps passing, and the sun is now starting to set. I button up my jacket and put on my warm, wool gloves. I use my backpack as a pillow and try to cover myself in leaves, partly for warmth, but mostly to take away from my scent. There's no way in hell I'm letting myself get caught.

I dream. Which is particularly odd, because I rarely dream. I don't bother with living in a fantasy land. But this night, out on the cold forest floor, I dream. I dream of a werewolf that my adoptive mother, Pam, would use to frighten me into obedience as a young child. His name is Declan. He is the alpha of the Bloodnight pack. He's practically the definition of a big, bad wolf. Pam would always threaten to send me off to him when I wouldn't obey her ridiculous commands. She always assured me that he was far worse than she was.

I believed her when I was younger. I really did. It would keep me up at night, thinking about a life that could be even worse than mine already was. But now I'm not so sure what to think. With all the terrible stories she would tell me, I'm not even sure if he's real. I don't even know where his pack is located. I have absolutely no reason to trust her, anyways.

- - -

After two days of running through the deep woods, I come across a gas station. Thank the Lord. It sure is dingy, but I'm used to that kind of thing.