Page 3 of Ours
The moon hung directly overhead, massive and silver, casting the clearing in harsh light while the surrounding forest remained a wall of impenetrable darkness. Deep, endless, waiting.
Was he really doing this? Offering himself up like some sacrifice to creatures that could tear him apart?
What would Marcus think if he could see him now? Probably laugh. Or worse, feel validated.See? Too desperate. So desperate you're literally throwing yourself at monsters.
Too late now.
The sharp blare of a horn shattered the stillness.
Birds erupted from the trees.
Cole flinched—and then everyone was running.
His body moved before his brain could catch up, instinct launching him toward the tree line. The ground blurred beneath his feet, dead leaves slick under his boots. Branches clawed at his arms and face, but he barely felt the sting. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own harsh breathing.
The forest swallowed him whole, shadows and moonlight playing tricks on his eyes. He had no plan, no direction—just the primal urge to run, to make them work for their prize.
Then—the first howl.
It came from somewhere behind him, deep and resonant, a sound that bypassed rational thought and struck straight atsomething primitive in his core. His cock went half-hard in pure, fucked-up response.
Jesus. What kind of person got turned on by being hunted?
The lonely kind, apparently.
A second howl joined the first. Then a third. Until they surrounded him, echoing through the trees, filling the night with dark promise.
Cole's heart slammed against his ribs as reality crashed over him.
This wasn't a game. This wasn't a fantasy. This was real.
He was being hunted by creatures that could track him by scent alone, that could move faster and see better in darkness than he ever could. Creatures that wanted to claim him, mark him, take him.
His stomach twisted, fear sinking its claws deep. But beneath the fear, something else unfurled—a dark, hungry excitement he barely recognized in himself.
Because there was no hesitation in those howls. No doubt, no restraint. They weren't asking. They were coming for him.
And no matter how fast he ran?—
They would catch him.
That certainty sent heat rushing through him. For once, he didn't have to question if he was worthy of being chosen. For once, he was simply prey. And something out there in the darkness wanted him badly enough to hunt.
So Cole ran.
Not because he hoped to escape—that was never the point—but because every pounding step, every gasping breath, every scratch of branch against skin made him feel more alive than he had in years.
He wasn't just running from werewolves. He was running from Marcus's ghost, from empty rooms and cold beds, from the suffocating safety of a life half-lived.
With each stride, the howls grew closer. More urgent. More hungry.
And as Cole pushed deeper into the forest, heart racing and blood singing with adrenaline, he realized he was smiling.
2
Cole ran,lungs burning, heart slamming against his ribs, but his mind raced just as fast.
He'd grown up around werewolves. Everyone had, ever since the world had changed, since humans and wolves had learned to coexist. In the city, they blended in—looked just like anyone else. No claws, no fangs, no wildness bleeding into polite society. But even in their human skin, they were different.
