Chapter 54: Run
Vivian Grey’s POV
I was running.
Not for fun. Not for sport.
I was running for my life.
For my freedom.
For my very nature.
I was running from the last person I ever imagined I’d flee from.
My mate.
Zaliver.
My feet pounded against the forest floor, kicking up dry leaves and snapping brittle twigs that seemed unnaturally loud in the eerie silence around me. My heart beat furiously, like the frantic flutter of a trapped bird, roaring in my ears and drowning out everything else.
I couldn’t hear him, but I knew he was near. I could feel it. That deep, chilling awareness in my bones. It only made me push harder, faster. The wind whipped through my hair, stinging my cheeks as I searched the shadows for a miracle, any advantage, any place to hide or escape.
But I couldn’t keep this up forever.
My legs screamed. My chest heaved. My muscles begged me to stop.
But he could keep going. He wasn’t like me. He wasn’t like anyone.
And still, I ran.
Tears stung my eyes, blurring everything in front of me. Fear, confusion, betrayal, so many emotions battled for space in my chest. But one rose above them all.
Hatred.
For my own mate.
For Zaliver.
He was doing this. Forcing this. All because he couldn’t handle the idea of another male laying claim to me. As if my autonomy didn’t matter. As if his pride meant more than my will.
I should have seen this coming. I should have known his possessiveness had limits, and I’d just pushed him past them. I underestimated how deeply he distrusted the bond that tied us together.
Now he was out to prove something.
Something cruel.
Every time I thought I heard him behind me, I’d whip around only to find shadows. Nothing there. But each time, I swore I could feel him. The warmth of his breath ghosting across the back of my neck. The weight of his presence pressing into my spine.
And his breathing. Rough. Ragged. Cold.
I used to laugh at horror movies, those moments when the girl would run, glance back, and trip over nothing. Not so funny now. When you’re being hunted, every instinct screams to check behind you. Distance feels like safety, and tripping feels like death.
And sometimes, just when I thought I had a lead, he’d blow past me. Not with a sound, not with a growl, just a blur. A gust of wind so forceful I nearly toppled over. Every time, it made my heart crash against my ribs in panic. I’d fall, scrape my knees, slam my palms into the dirt, but I’d always scramble up again and run in a different direction.
I didn’t care where I ended up. Just away. Away from him.
My legs were bleeding. My skin scratched and raw. I couldn’t feel any of it through the haze of adrenaline. The sky had dimmed, my vision picked up what little light it could, but even my wolf-enhanced sight was useless in this tangle of thick trees and vines.
He must have planned this. Brought me far enough that no one would hear me scream. Far enough that no one would question my absence. He must have known I’d try to run. He’d wanted this chase.
This was never about punishment. It was a twisted game. A sick, calculated game.
Catch and release.
Only I wasn’t sure which part we were in anymore.
Suddenly, my foot caught something, a root, maybe. I tumbled hard, my body rolling until my back slammed against the base of a thick tree. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. I gasped, my ribs burning, but somehow I got back on my feet.
Barely.
My knees shook. My limbs trembled. But I still ran.
I had no direction. No plan. And no real hope.
Even if I escaped this forest, where would I go? He owned this island. Every wolf here followed his command. Every path led back to him.
He knew that.
So did I.
And that was the worst part, knowing I’d never win. That no matter how fast I ran, how hard I fought, I was already caught.
But I ran anyway.
Because I had to. For me.
The air had turned sharp, biting at my skin, but I didn’t slow. I couldn’t afford to. I didn’t know how long I’d been running. Minutes? Hours? It all blurred together now. My body felt like it had reached the brink, and still somehow I pushed past it.
Then it happened.
A sudden, searing burn lit up in my chest.
I staggered, clutching it, confused. My wolf howled inside me, a mix of warning and fear. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t know what to do either.
That’s when I felt it.
A shift in the air.
A presence.
He was here.
Before I could react, something massive launched at me from the dark.
Straight for my throat.
And I knew it was Zaliver.
Just then, I collapsed to the forest floor with a heavy thud, a sharp cry escaping my lips. My hands clawed at the dirt, but my limbs were trembling so badly they could barely hold my weight. I tried to push myself upright, but my strength had long since abandoned me. Gritting my teeth, I crawled, half dragging, half stumbling toward the massive tree a few feet ahead. My hands scraped through roots, damp grass, and jagged rocks, uncaring of the fresh cuts opening up along my palms and forearms. When I finally reached it, I forced myself up just enough to slump against the tree trunk, breath ragged and heart pounding. I curled in on myself, hugging my knees, trying to still the shaking in my bones.
And then I saw him.
Far off in the trees, his silhouette appeared, tall, dark, and still. And in that moment, pure terror flooded me.
Just a few minutes earlier...
He’d pulled the car off some remote stretch of road and stopped abruptly. No words, no explanation. He opened the door, left it hanging open, and grabbed me without warning, dragging me out. I stumbled as my feet hit the ground. The look in his eyes wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t tenderness or even frustration, it was something darker.
Zaliver yanked me along into the forest. Normally, I would’ve welcomed walking through the trees with him, even found comfort in it. But not this time.
This time, I was afraid.
He didn’t say a word as we plunged deeper into the woods. Branches grew thicker above us, casting shadows that swallowed up what little sunlight remained. The vines clawed at my legs, and the further we went, the more my chest tightened with dread.
"Zaliver?" I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
The silence was deafening, his grip unyielding.
Somewhere in the fog of my thoughts, I prayed the drug they’d given me would wear off soon. Not just for me, but for my wolf.
Eventually, her voice stirred, drowsy but furious.
What did you say to him to make him this angry?! she growled.
I told him... I said I’d reject him, I admitted, my guilt a crushing weight.
Are you insane?! Do you even understand what you’ve done?
I thought... if he believed it, he might tell me the truth. About everything.
Well, congratulations, Vivian. He believed you. And if we end up mateless tonight, I swear I’ll never forgive you, she snarled.
I don’t think he’ll actually leave us, I said weakly.
He better not, she muttered, still simmering with fear and exhaustion. She quieted down again, curling up in the back of my mind, but the unease lingered between us.
I waited until we were deeper in, until the oppressive weight of silence grew unbearable. Then I yanked my hand free from his grip. The sudden stop made him freeze. I bit my bottom lip as I saw his fists clench, then release, over and over.
"Zaliver?"
He turned to face me, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders shifted.
"I thought they were taking you away from me," he said, voice low and strained. "When you didn’t respond, all I could hear was you groaning in pain, and I couldn’t do anything. I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire existence. Uselessness, it’s a cruel thing, Vivian."
His eyes locked onto mine, the rawness in his voice making my throat tighten. I stayed silent, sensing he wasn’t done.
"They," he continued, stepping closer, "are the ones above the gods. Alstha, god of war and knowledge. Eccasto, god of intelligence. And others. But your kind, you only speak of two: Fate and Luna. Mother Luna, as you call her."
I flinched slightly as he reached out, gently twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. I didn’t pull away, though every nerve in me screamed for answers.
There were more gods?
Why hadn’t we ever been told?
And how did Zaliver know them?
Was he one of them?
No. Not one of them. But something made by them.
"My existence," he said, as if reading my thoughts, "was crafted by their hands. I was their executioner. Their living weapon. When rogue supernaturals threatened the balance, when the gods didn’t want to intervene directly, they sent me. I was their message to the world."
He chuckled bitterly. "I should hate them for it, but in some twisted way, I’m grateful. Look at me. Immortal. Unstoppable. Feared and revered. I have what any alpha would kill for, endless strength, command over armies, and a throne carved from power itself."
His words chilled me. Not because he sounded proud, but because he sounded resigned. Like all of it had been forced on him. Like power had come at the cost of peace.
Back to present...
I pressed my back harder against the tree, watching his silhouette in the distance. He hadn’t moved. Neither had I.
And now I had to ask myself what did that make me, the girl fated to be his mate?
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