The sweet lure of escape came with an expensive price, one that I just couldn't afford, and soon the consequence would sink in with teeth as sharp as knives.

Inevitable darkness had devoured me as soon as I stepped into it, engulfed every single piece of me as the cold air slithered up my bare skin and snuck underneath my loose clothing. As though it was an illusion, a detailed hallucination, mist wrapped around my short figure like it was a being with thousands of arms grabbing at me. And, what did I do? I ran straight into it's freezing embrace. Expecting to feel warmth, safety, and relief. Almost like I was being saved from Morpheus' grip.

Adrenaline moved quickly through my veins as I counted the seconds that I had spent flying in the air, zooming like a squirrel on crack. My legs pumped faster than I thought was possible once my feet landed on the invisible finish line, the exit, with a thud. My arms reached out until my hands just barely grasped the light of the shining moon, the blue and grey glow sparkling against the pale skin of my face. And then, my whole body was thrown out the front door by a nonexistent force. Relief exploded under my skin, sending shivers through my face, my back, and continued until they made it all the way down to my purple painted toes. There was no reason for me to slam the door shut behind me, no urge, but I secretly hoped that Morpheus would have the decency to.

Also, locking it would be appreciated.

I had no neighbors. No other house to run to. Nowhere to go to in case of a sugar or murder emergency. The town was my best shot at seeking help, as it was the closest route to other humans. But, that would have caused a whole other problem, and not one that could easily go away. I would have been filled with immense guilt for the rest of my life if I let an unpredictable hybrid follow me, especially knowingly. The thought alone made the organ in my chest constrict. I tried to shake it off, physically and mentally, but the images of what he was capable of doing stayed. The blood of the past was still splattered over the streets, buried and kept secret. The tangly hair that was originally stuck to the sides of my face with icky sweat started flicking around at my nuh-uh movement.

Viviana knew her stuff, she asked questions and studied often, but I had a couple tricks up my sleeve. My knowledge came in, well, waves, and the lessons I learned over the years, but sadly forgotten with time, were all coming back because of the storm that Morpheus was. There was no avoiding it, memories were digging their way up and becoming impossible to bury.

Years ago, during the great war between werewolves and humans, Morpheus stepped foot into that same non-supernatural town with the sole purpose of burning it down until there was nothing left but ash and bones. There was not a doubt in my mind, my family, my home, everything would have been gone with just a single command from him.

The hate I would feel for myself would suffocate me. To bring Morpheus back would be the equivalent of me spitting on my relatives graves, they fought to not be put under the control of werewolves, and for what? So that I could guide the very man that was behind it all right back to them?

My mother's voice spoke softly in the back of my head, 'They asked for equality for years, Emery. Violence was not their first choice, they begged and begged, but in the end they were no longer able to survive with our selfish decisions. They are not completely at fault, it was also us, don't you agree?' I did, once upon a time. I thought the world of my beautiful, history teacher for a mother, and I always agreed with her views. But, after the accident, everything changed.

She taught me to respect history and the information that came from it, but to not let old, ignorant ways make my decisions. To understand what happened, to know the truth. I was not supposed to listen to them, but as the days go on and the more I come into contact with others who do follow the ancient rules that controlled the interactions between humans and werewolves, the need to hate them lights up with a burning passion.

I could never hate Max or Johnny, but could I hate the ones who despise me for no reason other than not having a wolf? The ones who spit at me? Glare at me? Curse at me? Could I hate the one who killed my mother?

An overthinker, is what Viviana always called me.

My legs lead me towards the open forest, no mans land, the territory was unclaimed due to the closeness between the nearest werewolf pack and human-filled town. The pack had no say in what we did with our town, human laws protect us. Although some days it felt as though they owned us, mostly because some werewolves thought they were all that and more. The deeper I ventured, the worse things turned. The trees loomed over the land, tall and full, blocking out nearly all of the natural light. I was barefooted and tripping over fallen trunks, roots that stuck up, and just about anything that would pierce my bare feet.

A sob escaped my lips as my pace slowed down to a clumsy jog, a walk really. Terrified. Tricked. Betrayed.

It all hit me like a ton of bricks, each one smashing against my head until realization finally dawned on me. My lips turned downwards into a quivering frown, gasping for air as my lungs burned, and my legs seemed to quit. There was pain everywhere, from the top of my splitting headache to the bleeding bottoms of my feet. My body fell forward until I was a bundle on the forest floor, with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped tightly around them, my body shook in terror. For what had happened, for what was to come. I was nothing but a woman curled up in a fetal position, there was no saving me.

I was a mere moth flying towards a powerful flame, with success on my mind, but in the end I was badly burned. Morpheus was fire, bright, attractive flames that called me forward, and nothing could stop the temptation. He was a siren and I was a weak fisherman, falling for his tricks.

There is no choice, never was. The game of chase was not something I could have ever won, Morpheus looked so sure of himself because he knew the outcome. He used my weakness to his advantage, he fed my need for freedom and now I was going to lose it.

What did you think would happen? My inner self hissed out like a snake, something that was beginning to be frequent. Did you think that you would get away? That you could possibly beat the fate of mates? You thought wrong, so very, very wrong.

The sound of twigs snapping were not loud enough to take me out of my own little world, my mind was rotting slowly as I could think of nothing but my pathetic future. But, of course, that was not the end of it. A new voice of reason had to put in their two cents, Viviana is the same, mated.

Constantly, I was at war with myself. As though two little beings sat on my shoulders and I always seemed to pay more attention to the one with red, pointy horns, but this time I decided to listen to the one with a glowing halo, to at least hear it out. Viviana has a mate, and she doesn't fight the bond. She's happy with Max, ecstatic to just be in the same room with him. You do nothing but fight Morpheus and you're not happy. Can't you just try to be a good mate?

Always have to argue, even with myself.

I threw my head back and breathed in the fresh air of the forest, the coldness of the wind stuck to the skin of my cheeks and stained my nose a shade of light red. The weather felt oddly wet, like it had recently rained and the drops of water still clung to the trees, with each gust of wind they would fall flat against the ground. My moment of bliss was ruined as a foul smell drifted towards me, and I turned away in disgust. The only thing blocking me from getting the full knockout of the stench was the constant sniffling of my stuffed nose.

Suddenly suffering a coughing fit, I was able to break the eerie silence of the trees as I started to hack up what was left of my poor lungs that just couldn't catch a break, first it was all of that running and then it was the smell of literal death that was enough for me to completely break out in full-blown heaving, "What the hell is that?"

It's not that it was bad, but that it was overly strong. The overpowering smell of iron was indescribable, metallic, but it felt like it was burning my already raw throat.

Moving forward, I pulled my body over and around to place my hands along the ground to feel dirt, twigs, and then a puddle. A warm, thin puddle of liquid that was releasing an acidic scent, but there was so much more that was mixed in. My nose pointed up to the sky in hopes of catching a different scent.

My eyes, already wide with fear, quickly adjusted to the dark, whether it was because of time or because my senses were currently working on overdrive.

As I lifted up my trembling hand, holding it inches away from my face, my eyes started to water and my regular breathing ceased.

Blood.