Chapter Two

Willow

Nothing red is good for eating. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Instead, I gather everything in shades of black and brown. Prunes. Berries. Mushrooms, if I’m feeling adventurous. Thankfully, one of my fathers gave me a crash course in foraging when I was young.

Well, he gave my alpha siblings a crash course.

“ See? ” Randall pinches a berry between his fingers. “It’s too firm. You’re better off leaving it on the branch and waiting for spring .”

Jarred, Titus, and Lara nod attentively.

I peek my head around the bush. Randall stops.

“Willow,” he says, sternly, “aren’t you meant to be in a lesson?”

Today’s ‘lesson’ is on nesting. I’m too young to care about that—my omega instincts only just presenting—whereas my brother, Alfie, is enraptured. So enraptured he and Mother didn’t notice me slip away.

Randall kneels down, handing me a berry. “Try this.”

Tentatively, I put the berry in my mouth, only to grimace at its tart flavor.

“Just as I thought.” He laughs, tucking back one of my curls. “You’re meant for sweeter things.”

I glare down at the small, pebbly berries in my palm. My stomach grumbles. I grit my teeth, plucking the stem off the bush.

I check my traps on the way to the river, hoping some creature has been stupid enough to get caught. So far, I haven’t had much luck. Or any luck, actually.

My fishnets tend to fare a bit better. I’m not sure I’ll see anything now it’s so cold, and all the schools are migrating south, but it doesn’t hurt to check.

The river is graciously slow-moving today. There’s only a little resistance as I grab the net.

Not one, but two fish flop about helplessly in the line. Already I’m imagining how best to cook them. It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper meal that even the limited options are dizzying. I wait for my catch to stop flopping around before readying the knife.

That’s when I sense it. Movement—across the river.

My head snaps up

A glimpse of white-blond hair. A tattered, bloodied cloak.

Crimson eyes lock onto mine.

His expression narrows, sizing me up, as I do the same. He’s tall. Lean, but broad, with muscles carved out across his half-exposed chest.

An alpha.

Adrenaline shoots through my veins. I’m suddenly grateful for the rushing water, drowning out my pounding heart.

The alpha tilts his head at me. His posture, predatory and poised, makes me worry he’s about to leap across the river’s width. I know it’s ridiculous—nothing could make that jump—but it doesn’t mean he can’t catch me.

He just has to find the nearest crossing.

I’m too scared to even snarl, or ward him off. All I can do is fumble to my feet.

And run.

Forgetting the fish, forgetting my basket, I take off into the forest. The pine trees loom above me, bearing down. I pick up speed, only to trip on my hem. The heels of my palms graze rock. I’m not aware of the blood, or the pain.

I just keep running.

This is bad. This is worse than bad. The whole point of running away from Southside was making sure no-one could ever find me. If even one blond-haired, crimson-eyed alpha brings word back to the village … I’m as good as dead.

They won’t kill you, my inner omega reminds me. They’d never kill you.

She’s right.

What they’ll do is worse than death.

I will never be a dam for those monsters. No—not a dam. Breeding stock . My mother and fathers and brothers and sister can put as pretty a spin on it as they like. I know what I am now.

And what I refuse to be.

I burst into the cabin. All that adrenaline must’ve burned up the last of my energy reserves, as I sink to my hands and knees and try to stop my vision swimming.

You can’t stay here, my omega says. He might track you down. Judging on that old cloak, and those sharp eyes, he’s been out here a long time. Probably knows his way around the wilds a lot better than me.

He’s a hunter. A rogue.

I’m just a runaway omega foraging unripe fruit.

With all the strength I can muster, I get to work barricading the cabin. I even set a couple traps—broken glass, mostly—so I can hear if anyone approaches the perimeter. If that alpha wants to get into my cabin, he’s going to have to work for it.

And then what ? my omega demands. He drags you back home ?

Maybe. Or, maybe, he claims me for himself.

I sit upright on the bed, knife clutched in both hands, as daylight leaves the sky and the cabin fills with dark.

Waiting, not for the first time, for an alpha to ruin my life.