The Claimed

They said the Hunt was sacred. That if I was chosen, it meant fate.

But fate didn't feel like a mouth on my skin or claws at my back.

It felt like blood. Mine.

For years, I stayed hidden. Quiet. Unclaimed. I stole seeds from the state fields, grew food in secret, fed my family from soil and silence. I did everything right - stayed beneath their radar, beneath their noses. I didn't make waves. I didn't ask for more.

But monsters never forget a scent.

And when the Hunt came, I was scented. Tracked. Taken.

I stabbed him.

I buried the blade in his shoulder and watched him bleed.

It didn't matter.

Because he still bit me.

And the world saw.

Now my face is on every screen. The girl who didn't run. The girl who fought back. Some call me a rebel. Some call me a mate. But they all forget one thing.

I wasn't made to be claimed.

I was made to survive.

And if they want to collar me, cage me, crown me - they'll have to reckon with everything I've kept buried beneath the roots.

Because I am not the flower.

I'm the fire beneath it.

Rewrite version of formerly known book Escaping the monsters Embrace