Her lungs were going to explode, her limbs begged for mercy - her treacherous mind whispered that a short break, just thirty seconds to catch her breath, couldn’t hurt. She knew better than to listen to it.

She already had zero chance of making it out of the forest. This was a last desperate attempt to grasp at her freedom, but she was running from the worse kind of predators, and they would catch her.

They always did.

Emily came to a sudden halt when a SUV entered her field of vision, its driver honking as hard as he could. Shit. It was heading right at her, headlight blinding her. She cursed as she did her best to run for cover. Who drove in the middle of a damn forest at dawn anyway? Her heart beat fast as she guessed the answer.

Them. It had to be one of them.

Her panic only lasted an instant; the car managed to avoid hitting her, swerving just in time, and then, the driver popped his head out of his window. Emily breathed in relief, because he definitely didn’t belong to the pack she was running from. She knew them all - their face, their voices, their stench. She doubted she’d ever forget them.

“What the hell are you…” he started, but he stopped short after getting a good look at her.

She’d definitely seen better days.

Emily was wearing a dirty pair of short and her blouse had been white once; now, under layers of swear, dirt and blood, it most definitely wasn’t. She didn’t have any shoes on, and her left ankle bore a angry wound - it had spent the last few weeks bound to a bed frame.

The stranger tone’s changed, and his anger was replaced by worry. “Are you alright?” he asked, pinning her under his intense gaze.

In other circumstances, she might have reacted very differently - this was incontestably the most handsome man she’d ever met. As things were, she noticed, but couldn’t have cared less. He could have been a hundred years old, have warts, claws, and a hunched back for all she cared. She was pretty certain she was done with men for the rest of her days, after her experience.

Emily bit her lip, considering her answer. She probably shouldn’t involve that poor guy, but what choice did she have?

She did the only thing she could: telling the truth.

“No. I was abducted. I need to get away from here, fast.”

The stranger nodded, and gestured her towards the passenger door of his car.

“To the police?” he offered, returning to his driver sea,t but she shook her head. She didn’t have the time for that, and they might very well wait for her there. It wasn’t like the human authorities could protect her in any case.

No one could.

Her best hope was using every single resources she had to try to disappear.

She’d try to run four times, but she’d never managed to make it out of the forest; as the truck past the wooden borders at high speed, she felt everything inside her tense. This was really it. Her one chance.

Her savior’s voice pulled her from her reveries when he said, “Ah. Shifter problem.”

Her head shot to him, as she wondered how he’d guessed. It wasn’t like shifters were the only criminals out there - there were demons, vampires, angels, and even plain old human who targeted the weak for kicks.

Weak. She’d never thought she was amongst those, but life had shown her just how wrong she was.

“Have you done this before?” the guy asked her.

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she shook her head. None of this craziness was familiar to her. A few months back, she’d been nothing but a normal woman - an accountant, for Heaven’s sake. Then, her entire world had crashed and burned after one phone call.

The driver turned to her and sniffed the air.

“I smell fur on you. Wolf. There’s something else underneath. Something wilder…is it water?”

Fuck. So that’s how he knew. And there was a very good chance that, to be able to tell, he was one of them - another shifter. She may very well have jumped right out of the pan, and into the damn fire.

The man didn’t pause long enough to give her the chance to answer.

“You’ll want to lay a false trail. Don’t contact anyone you’re familiar with, and never use anything that could lead them to you - phone, credit card. Don’t go anywhere predictable; nowhere you’ve seen before, not even a place that you’ve told your best friend you wanted to visit. Take various transports to get there, too. Wolves are the best trackers; they’ll find you if you let them.”

He sounded calm, almost matter of fact. With a secretive smile, he answered the question she didn’t ask, “My Pride has ran from wolves a time or two.”

Pride. That was what feline shifters called their packs; Emily hadn’t remembered that from what she’d read online.

“You’re a cat.”

The man flashed her a dashing smile, his eyes blazing gold before returning to amber.

“Panther. And it’s not exactly polite to ask, siren.”

A chill ran through her bones. He knew. The wolves who’d kidnapped her had spent months observing her, checking all the facts before being sure, but after a two minutes car journey, he just knew what she was.

“Don’t fret. It’s not written on your forehead; I’ve just met one of you before. You give off the same vibe.”

Their conversation had been pretty one sided until then, but that made her open her mouth.

“They said…” she croaked, her throat so dry she didn’t recognized her own voice. “The guys who were holding me said my kind was supposed to be extinct. That I’m the only one.”

The stranger chuckled low. “Here’s some news, puppet. Psychotic kidnappers tend to lie.”

He might have a point.

“I’m Daunte Cross, by the way.”

Keep your name to yourself, a part of her brain whispered, but she ignored it. She couldn’t place it, but she was pretty certain the guy wasn’t a threat. Still, she’d been gullible once; never again.

“Emily,” she replied.

Daunte nodded his approval.

“Very good; no last name. It would have been better if you’d given me a fake name altogether, though. Let’s see… Sophia. You look like a Sophia. Next time someone ask, you tell them that, got it?”

She frowned, asking, “How do you know I was telling you the truth? I could really be called Wendy, or something.”

Daunte smiled again, making her reassess her previous statement. He wasn’t handsome - the man was sex on legs. Yet Emily was completely, utterly indifferent to it.

“No one can bullshit me. Okay, Sophia. Let’s see about getting you some cash and a fake ID.”

She bit her lip, wondering why the hell the guy would help her, a random stranger. Was it a trap? A plot to get her to trust him?

“Chill. I’m helping so I can sleep at night. You don’t just run into a woman in trouble and ignore it. I’d tell you to come with me if I could, but we have cubs. We can’t afford another war.”

She nodded like she understood, but she didn’t; not really.

They passed a sign saying they’d arrived in Lakesides, population, fourteen thousand, five hundred.

“Stay in here, I won’t take more than five minutes,” Daunte told her, pulling up in front of the bank.

He left the keys in the ignition, and winked at her before getting out of the car. Was he insane? His shiny truck must have cost tens of thousands, and he didn’t know her. She could just take it and go.

Emily stared at the driver seat a little too long, but she just shook her head.

He’d done it on purpose to prove a point. He was showing her that she could trust him. And strangely, despite everything that had happened over the last three weeks, she wanted to.

Four minutes later, the stranger was back, carrying an envelop full of cash. A lot of it. And they weren’t one dollar bills either.

“I can’t take this.”

He just shrugged.

“You can and you will, if you want to live. Buy a burner phone, and call the first number on the note I left inside. His name is Knox. He’ll get you an ID within a couple of days. Second number goes to a guy called The Butcher. If you’re in trouble, he can find you within three to five days.”

She nodded, willing the information to stick: her memory had a tendency to be very selective - and it wasn’t the important things that she remembered.

“And the other numbers?”

The guy smiled again.

“The third one would be mine. Every Tuesday for the next three month, text me. If you don’t, I’ll send The Butcher after you. The last one, though, that’s a little more complicated. It goes straight to the Paranormal Investigation Agency, and they are supposed to help.”

A shiver ran through her spine. Emily shad heard about the PIA - of course she had. None of it was good, though.

“But they won’t,” she guessed.

Daunte shrugged.

“They’ll get you out of trouble. Then, they’ll probably lock you up for the rest of your days. So, only call if it’s a matter of life or death.”

He’d already more or less answered, but she had to ask.

“Why?”

He’d said it himself - getting involved in her mess would only end up causing him some trouble.

“Because not all of us are monsters.”