This time, though, luck was on my side... kind of. Instead of hitting the cold, hard ground like a pancake, I crashed into something soft. Way softer than the ground.
I froze.
I was lying on top of a guy.
Great. Just... freakin' great. Of all the places, of all the times to land, I had to land on some poor sap who, by the look of it, wasn't expecting to get tackled by a rogue she-wolf (well, if I was a she-wolf).
I should've said something. Should've apologized. But as I lifted my head to apologize, I froze. Because the moment my eyes met his—dark, cold, and shockingly familiar—my stomach twisted.
Oh. Crap.
It was him.
That face.
Those eyes.
Desmond.
Of course it was him. Why wouldn't it be? He was the one wolf I didn't need to land on. And yet, here I was, staring up at the last person I ever expected to see.
Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed.
I could feel my breath catch in my throat.
Why did it have to be him? Desmond? Out of all the wolves in the world, I crash into him?
I should've scrambled off him, should've bolted away as fast as I could—but I didn't. Because in that moment, my brain didn't even know what to do.
What the hell was going on?
Before I could think, before I could react, I felt a sharp, freezing cold presence delow me. His eyes were locked onto mine, filled with so many emotions I couldn't quite decipher. The man—the wolf—was a mix of fury, amusement, and some strange level of... understanding?
What did he want? Why wasn't he dragging me back to the other four Alphas, throwing me back into whatever twisted game they had planned for me?
And then the tension hit me like a bolt of lightning. He wasn't even trying to grab me. Wasn't trying to hurt me. He was just staring.
"Weren't you supposed to be running away?" His voice was low, so much lower than I remembered. It sent a shiver down my spine.
I could feel my heart pounding, thumping in my chest as I scrambled to get away from him. But there was no escape.
Not with those dark, cold eyes locked on me, like he could see straight through every lie I'd told myself.
Oh, hell.
I stared up at him, and for a moment, everything froze. His cold eyes, that black hair, the way his lips were twisted in that perfect little sneer. Yeah, he was pissed. Of course he was pissed. I'd made a fool of him the first time, hadn't I? Let's just say, if looks could kill, I'd already be six feet under.
But here's the thing: I wasn't dead. And that's where the fun started.
He looked at me like I'd just kicked his puppy. His eyes narrowed, jaw tight, fists clenched. Yeah, he was furious. And if I knew anything about alphas, it was that they don't take kindly to being outsmarted.
"Are you serious right now?" His voice was low, dangerous. The kind of voice that promised he was about to make my life hell. But I had a plan. I always have a plan.
This time, I wasn't going to let him drag me back without at least having a little fun.
You see, Desmond might've been a brilliant strategist in his own right, but when it came to me? Well, he was falling short.
Oh, and don't get me started on the window trick. He'd clearly thought I'd be too dumb to pull that stunt off, but I had outsmart him before, one more time wouldn't hurt right? And this time, I wasn't just gonna run away. I wasn't gonna make it easy for him. No, I had to make it interesting.
So what do I do?
I hold onto him, my hands gripping his jacket like I was trying to strangle the life out of it. And I shout.
"I've caught the thief!" I yell, with all the drama I can muster. "Quick! He's trying to get away!"
Yeah. That's right. I just did that.
The look of pure confusion on Desmond's face was priceless. I mean, who wouldn't be confused when the person who's supposed to be your prisoner—your prey—suddenly starts yelling at you like you're the one doing something wrong?
It's almost like he didn't expect me to be this resourceful. I could almost see the cogs in his brain grinding to a halt as he processed what I just did.
And while he was busy working through that—getting increasingly frustrated, I might add—I was quietly planting the evidence. Oh, yeah. You didn't think I'd just be hanging on to him like some damsel in distress, did you? No, I was slipping something into his pocket. A nice little coins I took from the porch I stole because I brought it in my hasty escape.
I smiled to myself. Desmond was about to become a prime suspect in a thief chase. And once the other idiots outside heard my little performance, they'd be too busy thinking he was the criminal to notice me sneaking off into the shadows.
Desmond stood there, still holding me in place, clearly flabbergasted by what just went down. His hand had frozen mid-grip, and he hadn't even made a move to throw me off him. Instead, his face twisted into a frustrated scowl as the noise from outside grew louder.
"Thief? What the hell are you talking about?" Desmond muttered, his voice turning venomous. "Let go of me, you little—"
But before he could finish, the exit door burst open. The idiots from in my room were now outside, and they weren't looking for a runaway pettite-wolf. They were looking for the thief—and it was my perfect opportunity to finish what I started.
"Here!" I pointed, almost too dramatically, and Desmond shot me a glare that could melt ice. "He's the one! He's the thief! I've caught him trying to get away!"
I could see the gears turning in the minds of the crowd. The confused whispers and murmurs started. People began pointing at him, asking questions, making accusations. Desmond was frozen. Completely paralyzed by the sudden wave of chaos. They were surrounding him now, trying to take him down, trying to get the truth or try to beat the truth off him. He was too stunned to do anything about it.
And that? That was my cue.
I gave him a quick smile—a very smug smile—and slid off him, right into the confusion of the crowd. The moment he was surrounded by those people, they would focus on him. The thief.
I slipped into the shadows without a second thought.
I couldn't help but laugh under my breath as I bolted from the scene. I mean, seriously, Desmond was too easy to mess with. He was so sure of himself, so certain I couldn't pull off a second escape, that he forgot the one thing that made me dangerous: I was always good at improvising. Always.
The clamor from behind me was growing louder, but I wasn't slowing down. The sounds of shouts, angry accusations, and Desmond's roaring frustration were music to my ears. I could practically hear him banging on the walls, trying to free himself, and it was glorious.
But did I feel bad for him? Oh, hell no. Desmond had it coming. He thought he could catch me. He thought I'd be some easy little wolf to capture.
Well, here's a newsflash: I'm not.
And now, as he stood there, surrounded by a mob of angry people, I was free.
Or at least, I was for the moment.
I wasn't naïve enough to think Desmond wouldn't catch on eventually. He was a smart one—too smart for his own good, honestly. But by the time he got through this mess, I'd have more time. And time was something I desperately needed.
But for now, I let the world think Desmond was the one who'd been stealing. I let him deal with that mess while I slinked back into the shadows, taking deep breaths of freedom.
Because here's the thing: running might be exhausting, but it's the only thing keeping me alive.
So, I ran. Again.