Escaping from the pack

Father’s voice followed Torin’s like an echo dragged through gravel—low, reluctant, and cracking under strain.

“There’s no need to rush, Torin. Lily is only sixteen.”

But Torin’s response came sharp, slicing the air like a blade. “There’s no reason to wait until she’s eighteen.”

I felt the words like claws sinking into my spine. My back straightened instinctively, though I remained hidden in the shadows beyond the study door.

“The ceremony should take place in three months. Before the winter moon,” he continued, his voice smooth as oil. Cold and slick. “Before the winter moon.”

A knot twisted in my stomach, hard and icy.

Silence hung like a blade between them. Then I heard it, my father’s jaw tightening, a low crack echoing in his mouth.

“Three months is… soon,” he said finally, hesitation leaking into his tone like a crack in a dam.

Torin didn’t speak.

But I could feel the shift in the air tense. He was angry. Furious. And Father knew it.

“Three months is soon, but with the increasing rogue attacks—”

“The rogue attacks have increased,” Torin interrupted. “Our borders are vulnerable. We need this alliance solidified. The sooner, the better.”

I swallowed hard. Helplessness rose in my throat like bile. Their words weren’t just plans—they were chains, closing tighter around me with every syllable.

They had decided. Without me. Again.

Torin didn’t even glance in my direction as he set the terms of my fate. The alliance. The wedding. My body. My life. All bargained between them like livestock at market.

My fists curled until my nails bit into my palms. I backed away from the door, each step careful and quiet. Like retreating from a predator who hadn’t quite seen me yet. Then, the moment I turned the corner, I ran. I didn’t stop until I reached the woods behind the house, where the air was colder, freer. My chest heaved with ragged breaths as I stumbled into the clearing, the moon slicing silver through the canopy.

Three months.

Three moons.

That’s all I had left.

I dropped to my knees and dug my fingers into the earth, grounding myself in something real. Something that didn’t lie, or scheme, or sell daughters for power.

I had known this would come eventually. Every girl in the Moonshine Pack did. We were raised with the knowledge that our fates were tools in the hands of our fathers. I just thought I’d have more time. They promised I’d have until I was eighteen.

But Torin had always looked at me like I was his. Possessive. Watching. Like I was something he was waiting to consume. He never smiled. Never softened. His presence filled a room with cold. Handsome, yes, but carved from stone. And dangerous.

I sat there until the chill seeped into my bones, until I couldn’t cry even if I wanted to.

Then I stood.

I wasn’t going to let them drag me to the altar like a lamb. If they saw me as a pawn in their war, then I’d play the game they didn’t expect.

I would run.

I would fight.

I would survive.

---

That night, while the house slept and the moon slipped through the clouds, I crept from my room. Every creak of the floorboard sent fear slicing through me, but I kept moving. Quiet. Focused.

I lifted the loose floorboard beneath my bed and pulled out the map I had hidden weeks ago. I’d taken it from the archives on a dare to myself, a silent rebellion. I didn’t know then that it would become my lifeline.

The map was faded and marked with old border lines, patrol rotations, forgotten trails. I spread it across the floor and traced the northwest edge of the territory with a shaking finger. There a gap. A shift in patrols that would leave a window of nearly three hours during the full moon. If I planned carefully, I could make it past the river before anyone noticed I was gone.

Food. Water. Money. Clothes.

I made the list in my head as I folded the map and stuffed it into the lining of my old training cloak. I grabbed the satchel I’d packed days earlier, before I even knew why I was doing it. I just knew I needed to be ready.

Books lined my window ledge, combat strategy, forbidden texts from the Academy, notes stolen from my cousin’s room. I skimmed a few of the pages one last time, absorbing the words like a final breath before drowning.

Girls weren’t allowed in the Academy. Not in Moonshine Pack. Not in any pack, really. Girls weren’t supposed to know how to fight. Just how to bear children. Keep the house. Look pretty beside their Alpha mates.

But I had read everything. Practiced alone in the woods. Taught myself how to aim, how to strike, how to endure pain.

They called us delicate.

But they had no idea how sharp we could be when forged in fire.

---

The forest was pitch-black by the time I reached the outer edges of the pack grounds. My cloak hugged my frame, hiding my scent as much as it could. I crept past the last of the markers, moving carefully through the trees.

One wrong step, one broken twig, and a patrol could be on me in seconds.

But I knew this place. Every stone. Every branch. Every whisper of wind that changed when a wolf moved too close.

When I reached the edge of the river, I stopped. The current was fast. Cold. Treacherous.

But so was the life I was leaving behind.

I clutched the strap of my satchel tighter and stepped into the freezing water. The shock stole my breath. My boots sank into the mud, pulling at me like claws trying to drag me back.

I forced myself forward.

One step.

Then another.

Until the water was up to my chest and the current tried to rip me off my feet.

I gritted my teeth, my muscles screaming from the cold. My fingers clawed at rocks, branches, anything that would keep me from slipping. My cloak tangled around my legs, heavy with water, but I pushed on.

When I finally dragged myself onto the opposite bank, I collapsed. Soaked. Shivering. But alive.

Free.

I looked back once. Just once. The trees of Moonshine Pack stood like silent sentries on the other side of the river. My home. My prison.

And I turned my back on it.