Just as Jess decides to press forward toward whatever uncertain future lies beyond the trees, he hears voices. Faint at first, but growing louder, unmistakably coming from the path ahead.
Probably heading to the pack house.
He freezes.
The tone... so familiar it steals the breath from his lungs.
Panic kicks in, raw and sudden.
Instinctively, he dives into the thick brush, heart pounding like a war drum against his ribs.
His hands clutch at branches, thorns scratching his skin, but he doesn't care. He crouches low, praying the shadows will keep him hidden.
He has no wig. No heels. No disguise. Anyone would recognize him in a heartbeat.
The footsteps grow nearer. And in a second, he sees the owners of the voices.
His parents And Kyle's parents.
His blood turns to ice.
Part of him wants to bolt. Another part wants to burst from the bushes and throw himself into his mother's arms, to sob and plead for forgiveness, for acceptance, for anything.
But then his father speaks, his words strike like a blade to Jess's chest.
"I don't know why they keep calling me about something I've already disowned!" his father growls. "They couldn't control him, they let him run. Not my problem anymore. I have one child. Just one. And she's barely three. I don't know who else they think they're talking about, but it's not my concern."
Jess recoils.
The urge to cry evaporates.
One child. A daughter? He has a sister? The shock pierces through the numbness for a second, but it quickly drowns in the acid of rejection.
So that's it.
He really is nothing to them anymore. Erased. Replaced.
"I wonder the same," Kyle's mother adds with a scoff. "Why didn't they just end it instead of dragging it out to slavery? Those people are diseased in the mind, all of them. They've lost the meaning of who we are."
Their voices fade as they continue walking. But Jess remains frozen, body tight with disbelief, rage, and heartbreak.
He stares at nothing.
He had once hoped that despite everything, some small ember of love might remain in their hearts. That maybe, if they saw him again, they'd remember he was theirs.
But now it's clear.
They've buried him already. His claws twitch in the dirt, but it's not the fight that rattles him most.
It's the echo of his father's voice. Cold. Final.
"I only have one child."
"She's barely three."
"I don't know of any other disgrace they're calling me for."
He tries to convince himself he's used to it. That he's hardened.
But he hadn't expected this kind of severing. Not with such precision. Not with such ease.
He hunches lower, staring through the bramble where the dirt path winds and disappears. His father's back had never looked so distant. His mother's silence, once a soft ache, now howls like a wound.
Jess swallows hard. He can't afford to break not now.
Yet for a few seconds, he's just a boy again. The boy who used to braid his mother's hair while she hummed. The one who carved his name into the old oak out back because his father said men must leave their mark somewhere.
He had.
And now they'd buried it.
Suddenly, A noise drags him back to reality, cutting through the trees, a deep engine rumbling along the road.
Jess turns.
A dark truck barrels past, coming from the pack house. Through the tinted glass, he catches a glimpse of the passengers.
Jayson. Jaxon.
The two men Tanner condemned to slavery.
The ones they'd branded criminals, not because they were dangerous, but because they dared to exist outside the rules. Just like him.
The vehicle barrels down the road.
The sight of them_ chained, subdued, helpless... hits him differently.
It's not him in those shackles.
But it could have be.
Would have been if he hadn't run.
Would be, if they caught him again now.
Resolve shifts in his chest, louder than heartbreak. Deeper than rage.
He stands up fully, stepping out from the thorns. His fists clench, claws extending. He doesn't care if someone sees him now. Let them see. Let them chase him. He's done hiding, done begging for a place in a world that wants him gone.
His parents might not see him. But Jaxon and Jayson still could. Others still could.
And maybe, just maybe, he could still be something more than forgotten.
He tears off the dress, the fabric catching in his claws as he rips it apart, piece by piece, until it lies in ruins at his feet.
No more pretending.
He drops to all fours, breath heaving, he shifts fast.
Fur blooms across his skin like fire. Bones bend and stretch. Muscles coil with untapped strength. He feels like lightning_ alive, raw, and uncontrollable.
This is his true form.
Not a mistake.
Not a disgrace.
Power hums through him like a second heartbeat. He doesn't understand it fully, but he feels it.
He runs.
Not away this time.
Toward.
Through the underbrush. Past trees and stones. Wind against his fur, adrenaline screaming through his limbs.
He's faster than he's ever been.
Because this time, he's not just trying to escape.
He's trying to save someone.
And in saving them, maybe, just maybe he's saving the last piece of himself worth fighting for.
He won't let them go, Not when he's one of them.
He catches up to the vehicle easily, overtakes it, then darts ahead. There's a bend in the road coming, where the forest thickens and the path narrows.
Perfect.
Jess stops there, just out of sight, and waits. The vehicle growls closer. As it rounds the bend, Jess leaps.
His claws slice through the tires with surgical precision. Rubber screams. Metal shrieks. The vehicle jerks violently before skidding to a halt, tilted and wounded.
One of the guards steps out, confusion written all over his face.
He doesn't get time to make sense of anything.
Jess launches at him, teeth bared, claws extended. The man crumples beneath the assault, unconscious before he hits the ground.
The second guard, still in the car, fumbles for a weapon.
Too slow.
Jess slams into him through the open door, knocking him sideways, then turns his attention to the backseat.
Jaxon and Jayson, both chained at the wrists and ankles, stare at him in stunned silence.
Without hesitation, Jess slashes at the chains. The metal groans, then breaks.
Jaxon stumbles forward, blinking.
Jess doesn't shift. He just growls low in his throat, urgent. Run.
They don't need to be told twice.
They leap from the car, without knowing who they are really following. They shift mid-motion, fur rippling as their wolves take over. But the guards are stir, bruised, bloodied, and angry.
Jess spins, facing them, buying Jaxon and Jayson a few precious seconds.
Before they all run.
Three wolves, pounding through the forest like silver lightning. Trees blur past. Behind them, the guards give chase, but Jess doesn't look back.
He's done being fragile. Done watching without doing anything. Done waiting for someone else to do the right thing.
This is his pack too.
This is his fight now. He won't let anyone else suffer over something that poses no real threat to the pack, even though it's being portrayed as a poison capable of wiping out all the wolves in the world.