02. Run

Nuri ran until the burn in her legs turned into a steady throb and every breath clawed at her throat like sandpaper. Branches snagged at her clothes, scraping her arms and legs, but she barely felt them. Her heartbeat drowned out everything—everything except the raw panic surging through her veins. She didn’t stop until the dizziness became unbearable and her steps faltered.

She collapsed against a tree, hands braced against the rough bark, trying to catch her breath. The world tilted for a moment, her vision tunneling as she closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop shaking.

And then—she felt it. A presence. Her eyes flew open. He was there. Just behind her.

Leisurely, as if he'd never been chasing her at all, the alpha stepped out from the shadows, a wicked smirk curving at the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes gleamed with something far more dangerous than amusement. It was the hunger of a predator—not for blood, but for the thrill. For her.

He hadn't run after her. No, he’d stalked her. Silently. Intentionally.

Her breath hitched, lungs refusing to work properly. 'Oh my god, has he been following me? I must have run about five miles!’ Her mind reeled. She hadn’t heard him. Not once. 'No. I would have heard him! You must be seeing things, Nuri.'

"You thought you could run from me?" he asked, his voice curling low and sharp, like velvet over steel. He took a step closer, his eyes roaming her figure with deliberate intent, drinking in her disheveled state like a man starved. She stood at 5'7, her long blonde hair tangled from the wind, her skin glowing under the soft golden light breaking through the trees. Her baby blue eyes—so wide now, so fierce—shone like clear summer skies against the flush of exertion on her cheeks. She was wild. And breathtaking.

Kalmin hated that. 'She’s beautiful. I hate that. Why does she have to be beautiful? If she wasn't one of those disgusting hybrids, I might be happy to have found my mate in her.'

"Why did you follow me? We both know you would rather kill me than to have me as your mate." Nuri gasped, her voice shaking, but her eyes didn’t drop. His voice—deep, thunderous—had stolen whatever breath she'd managed to reclaim.

'Stop it, Nuri. He's the alpha! It doesn't matter if you're meant to be mates or not. He doesn't want you, and you don't want him.' She tried to steel herself, refusing to let fear take over.

But then her wolf stirred. ‘Please, Nuri, don’t be so hostile. Maybe he isn’t so bad. You’ll never know if you don’t give him the chance.’

‘Give him the chance to what? Murder me?’ she snapped back. ‘We are a hybrid. Don’t let some silly notion of a soul mate cloud our judgment.’

"Who are you?" the alpha asked, but Nuri barely registered it, too focused on escape. Her gaze darted past him, trying to gauge how fast she’d need to be.

"Who are you?" he repeated, stepping closer. The space between them tightened. She could feel the heat coming off him now. His scent—pine, smoke, and something raw—curled around her senses and made her stomach flip. His eyes locked on hers, intense, unreadable, and so dark they looked like they could swallow the sun.

'She really is… so beautiful.' His wolf howled in his chest, yearning for more. ‘Please, closer! Closer!’

"I'm Nuri, daughter of the Williamsons." Her voice was calm, but her body betrayed her—every muscle locked and coiled as she tried to back away, only to find the tree pressing into her spine. No escape. Her wolf whimpered softly, delighted.

"Kalmin, alpha of the Blue River Pack," he answered, though he already knew she knew. Her scent told him everything he needed to know. And the fury that simmered in him only grew hotter. 'Those worthless Williamsons made this girl? That's more unbelievable than her being my mate.'

He placed one hand on the tree beside her head, leaning down until their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel his breath brush her lips.

"How old are you, Nuri?"

She forced herself not to flinch. "I'm eighteen, soon to be nineteen," she said, her voice steady even as her heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it—and she knew he could.

"How old are you?" she snapped back, trying to claw back even a shred of control.

"Twenty-one, hybrid," he bit out, as if the word itself tasted foul. But his eyes didn’t waver. They roved over her face—her lips, her jaw, the delicate curve of her throat.

He wanted her. She saw it.

And he hated that more than anything.

"Just because our wolves say we’re mates, doesn't mean we need to be mates, Kalmin." The words came low, almost a whisper. Then she shoved him with both hands. She didn’t expect to move him—but he stepped back, startled.

For a second, he just stared at her. Then the disbelief twisted into rage.

'Did this little hybrid just put her hands on me?’

Without warning, his hand closed around her throat, and he slammed her back into the tree. The bark dug into her spine, stealing her breath. "You'll pay for putting your hands on me, hybrid."

"Kill me, please. I'd rather be dead than be your mate." Her voice was clear, unwavering, even as his grip tightened. Her blue eyes burned into his.

And he saw it. She meant it.

‘Better dead than living a life of torment under his boot, subject to his every fleeting desire.’

"I'm the alpha of the Blue River Pack. There isn't a wolf around that wouldn't kill to be my mate!" Kalmin growled, shaking with fury. But inside—his wolf was howling in pain. Desperate. Begging.

He didn’t care.

"It's amazing you can find a shirt to fit over that engorged head of yours, alpha. Look into my eyes, listen to my heart. Tell me if I'm lying, then."

He scoffed but obeyed. He looked into her—deeply. He heard her heart, steady in its defiance.

"I would rather die than to be yours, alpha," she repeated.

His grip faltered.

"So, am I lying?" she gasped, her lips trembling now, her face flushing deep crimson as the lack of oxygen took its toll.

Kalmin stared at her for a long, still moment—then let her go.

She crumpled slightly, coughing as she gasped for air, clutching at her throat.

'Our mate is gorgeous, strong, and fearless! Who better to be our mate than Nuri?' his wolf cried out.

'I don't care what she is. She's a hybrid, and that makes her unworthy.'

"You aren't going to kill me?" she asked, her voice hoarse, but eyes just as sharp. ‘I thought he'd rather kill me than to take a chance anyone finds out that he's mated to a hybrid.'

She stepped sideways, just far enough that he wasn’t blocking her anymore. She bared her teeth. “I don't want you, and you don't want me. We don't need to talk about it anymore.” Then she turned and ran again—this time toward home.

Kalmin didn’t follow—not yet. He watched her go, her hair flying behind her like a banner of rebellion. The hollow echo in his chest grew louder the farther she ran.

'Our mate doesn't want us?' his wolf whimpered.

"No, she doesn't want us. Just as we do not want her," Kalmin murmured. But even as he spoke the words, he started to count down from ten.

‘You do not want her. I do,’ his wolf answered, low and fierce.

Kalmin grinned darkly. “When we are not hungry, but have the urge to hunt, what do we do?”

‘We hunt, of course.’

“And when we are not in the mood to hunt, but we see a nice juicy rabbit cross our path, one who looks like it would put up a particularly good fight for its life, what do we do?”

‘We allow it to think it has a chance… then we kill it.’

Kalmin’s grin widened as he reached zero—and ran after her.