The wolves were closing in.
Aylin's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she dashed through the dense woods, her heart pounding against her ribs like a desperate bird slamming into its cage. Every step was a battle against the treacherous terrain—the jagged roots clawing at her ankles, the slick mud threatening to swallow her whole, the cruel branches lashing at her arms as if begging her to give up.
The dress was a death trap. The thick crimson silk, soaked in mud and blood, clung to her like a second skin, dragging her down with each agonizing step. It tangled around her legs, causing her to wrench and tear at the fabric in a desperate attempt to free herself. The corset bit into her ribs, crushing her lungs in an iron grip, and she took painful, shallow breaths. She could feel the bruises forming beneath the laces, deep and unforgiving.
She wasn't going to make it.
The thought slithered through her mind, insidious and cold. No matter how quickly she ran or how hard she fought, the inevitable loomed behind her, relentless as a tide.
The forest was too quiet. No chirping insects, no rustling creatures in the underbrush. Even the wind had stopped, as if it were holding its breath for what was to come.
Aylin swallowed down the rising scream clawing up her throat. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Valen.
His scent, thick with sweat, musk, and something sweetly rotten, coiled around her senses, choking her like an invisible hand. He was close. Too close.
Memories crashed into her like a tide. His hungry gaze swept over her, and the sick amusement in his eyes as she flinched under his scrutiny. His fingers had always lingered too long on her wrist as he escorted her through the halls, and his breath would creep over her ear when he spoke.
And now, he was hunting her.
She pushed forward, ignoring the excruciating pain in her legs. The dress caught on a jagged rock and yanked her back violently. Aylin choked on a sob, nearly pitching forward. She ripped at the fabric, tearing another strip from the once-pristine gown, the lace sleeves fraying like a forgotten relic of a life she no longer belonged to.
She had been untouchable once. But now?
Now, she was prey.
A snap of a twig.
Aylin froze.
The laughter followed, soft and cruel, curling around her like smoke, thick with malice. It sent a bolt of pure panic through her chest, wrapping around her ribs like a vice.
No. No, no, no.
She forced herself to move, her body sluggish with exhaustion, her muscles trembling from the strain. Her lungs burned, and her skin was drenched in sweat, but she kept running.
The trees blurred around her, and shadows moved in the periphery of her vision. Every breath she took felt like shards of glass scraping against her throat.
'Too slow. You're too slow.'
She pushed harder, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
Another snap of a branch—closer this time.
Her stomach lurched.
Then came the whisper of fabric and the distinct sound of boots crushing leaves. Steady. Unhurried.
He was playing with her.
The realization sent ice slithering down her spine.
She wasn't just running for her life. She was running for his amusement.
She clenched her teeth, swallowing down the bitter taste of helplessness. Her fingers wrapped around the silver pendant at her throat, gripping it so tightly that the edges dug into her skin. The cold metal was a lifeline, a whisper of something greater than her fear.
She wasn't ready to use it. Not yet.
Aylin's pulse roared in her ears as the trees ahead loomed taller, their gnarled trunks like prison bars, blocking her escape.
And then—
A shadow shifted before her.
Her breath hitched.
Moonlight pooled in the clearing, casting long, eerie silhouettes across the damp earth. And standing at the center of it, bathed in silver light, was him.
Valen.
The knowing smirk on his lips sent a wave of nausea rolling through her. His dark eyes drank in the sight of her, disheveled, bleeding, and shaking, but not broken.
Not yet.
"You look breathtaking," he murmured, his voice thick with mockery. "But I must say, misery suits you best."
Aylin's pulse thundered in her ears. She could taste the raw fear on her tongue, bitter and suffocating.
He took a slow step forward.
"You really made this difficult for yourself," he continued, as if they were engaged in idle conversation. "Running? Hiding? That's not like you, Aylin."
She said nothing.
He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And after all this time, you still don't know how this ends?"
Aylin's nails dug into her palm.
She knew exactly how this ended.
But not this time.
Her gaze flickered past him, scanning the clearing, searching for anything—a weapon, an escape, a distraction.
Nothing.
Only trees, towering and endless.
He took another step forward, his movements slow, deliberate.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, her spine rigid despite the exhaustion threatening to consume her.
"You should surrender," Valen said, his voice soft now, coaxing. "It would be easier. For you."
Her breath trembled, but she didn't let herself look away.
And then, finally, she spoke.
"Go to hell."
His smile widened.
"Still got some fight in you, then?" He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Good. I was hoping for that."
And just like that—he moved.
Faster than she could react, faster than her mind could register.
Aylin stumbled back, but his hand had already reached for her, fingers grazing her arm. She twisted, lunging to the side, but the weight of exhaustion dragged her down, slowing her just enough.
Valen's fingers closed around her wrist.
Aylin gasped, yanking back with all the strength she had left. The force of it sent her sprawling, her back slamming against the rough bark of a tree.
Pain exploded through her spine—a sharp, searing agony.
Valen loomed over her, his shadow swallowing the moonlight.
"You can't run forever," he murmured, leaning in, voice thick with satisfaction.
Aylin's breath came in shallow bursts, her heart a wild drum in her chest.
No. She couldn't run forever.
But she wouldn't die here.
Not like this.
Her fingers clenched around the pendant, her mind racing.
Not yet.