Irina’s POV
The pale, silver moonlight stretched across the cold stone floor, illuminating the single sheet of paper in my trembling hands.
It was my face.
It was .
The photograph was crystal clear. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t soone who just happened to share my hair color or my build. It was a high-resolution, undeniable image of . I was wearing the faded, oversized sweater I had worn to my anatomy lecture yesterday. I was sitting on the dirty brick pathway of the campus quad. My hair was falling out of its ssy knot. I was clutching my baby carrier tightly to my chest.
My brain completely stopped working.
The logic entirely short-circuited. A massive, deafening wave of static roared in my ears, drowning out the faint rustling of the autumn wind outside.
Why was my picture here?
Why was a photograph from my university campus hidden inside a highly classified, sealed corporate folder? Why was it brought to this terrifying, pitch-black, fortress-like manor deep in the woods of a billionaire’s private estate?
I couldn’t process it. I absolutely refused to process it.
If I stopped for even a single second to actually think about what this ant, I would completely shatter. If I connected the dots—the dark SUVs at my school, the missing executive security team, the terrifying billionaire CEO who lived in a house that looked exactly like Greystone—I would lose my mind.
I couldn’t afford to lose my mind. Luka was waiting for .
My heart didn’t just beat. It slamd against my ribs with the violent, terrifying force of a sledgehamr. It hurt. My chest physically ached from the rapid, frantic pounding.
My hands shook uncontrollably. The thick, glossy paper vibrated between my fingertips, the sound echoing far too loudly in the dead, silent foyer of the manor.
*Run,* my wolf whispered.
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a desperate, panicked command.
*Run now!*
I dropped the piece of paper.
I didn’t try to slide it back into the manila folder. I didn’t care about the confidential corporate docunts. I didn’t care if Mrs. Gable fired the second I walked back into the staff kitchen. I didn’t care about the paycheck or the uniform or the rules. I only cared about surviving.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees.
The freezing stone floor scraped painfully against my palms, but I didn’t feel it. I scrambled backward like a hunted prey animal, my wide, terrified eyes fixed on the darkness of the hallway, half-expecting a monster to step out of the shadows and grab by the throat.
I hit the heavy oak doors with my back.
I scrambled to my feet. My legs felt like they were made of absolute jelly. They were weak, trembling, and barely able to support my own body weight.
I turned around and threw my entire body against the heavy wooden doors.
They were so massive. They resisted my frantic pushing. I shoved with my shoulders, my hands, my entire body. A pathetic, ragged sob tore its way out of my throat.
With a loud, agonizing groan, the heavy wood finally gave way.
The door swung outward.
I stumbled over the threshold and plunged headfirst into the freezing night air.
The deep, twisted pine forest lood ahead of . The massive trees looked like dark, jagged teeth biting into the bruised, purple sky. The shadows between the trunks were absolute and impenetrable.
I practically threw myself down the wide stone steps of the manor.
My scuffed sneakers hit the paved pathway. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder at the terrifying gothic mansion. I just needed to get away. I needed to put as much distance as physically possible between myself and that photograph.
But my body suddenly betrayed .
The deep, inescapable, biological conditioning of an abused oga flared up with terrifying violence.
It wasn’t just human panic. It was a physiological breakdown. When a wolf senses a lethal, overwhelming predator in their imdiate territory, the body reacts before the brain even fully comprehends the danger.
My heart fluttered dangerously, skipping entirely out of rhythm.
A sharp, agonizing cramp seized my calves. My muscles violently contracted. They tightened so fast and so hard that I actually stumbled forward, barely catching myself before my face hit the rough pavent.
My lungs completely locked up.
I gasped for air, but my throat felt like it was swelling shut. The sheer terror was suffocating . I felt the overwhelming, crushing weight of an invisible danger pressing down on my spine, forcing toward the ground. It was the exact sa sickening, paralyzing feeling I used to get when Maxim was standing right behind , raising his heavy fists.
*Get up!* I scread at myself in my head. *Get up! Luka needs you!*
The thought of my son was a sharp, electric shock to my system.
If I collapsed here in the dark woods, who would go back for him? Who would protect him?
I forced my burning, cramped legs to move. I pushed through the violent muscle contractions. I ignored the excruciating pain in my chest.
I started to run.
I ran frantically, wildly, completely abandoning any sense of stealth. My worn sneakers slapped loudly against the pavent. My breathing was ragged and loud, a harsh, tearing sound in the quiet autumn night. The cold wind whipped my blonde hair across my face, stinging my eyes, but I didn’t stop to brush it away.
I just ran. I ran like the devil himself had clawed his way out of hell and was breathing directly down my neck.
I sprinted past the thick, clustered pine trees. The darkness swallowed whole.
Then, the dead silence of the estate was violently ripped apart.
A massive, terrifying sound echoed from the dark manor behind . It wasn’t a human voice. It was a deep, chest-rattling roar. It was a sound vibrating with pure, explosive, unhinged fury.
The sheer force of the voice made the ground beneath my feet actually tremble.
"Who’s there?!"
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