The Mating Run

Chapter 46

Safe So, here | am, watching Victor scratch his head in confusion, wondering out loud why his claiming bite didn’t work. “Something's not right.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

And honestly, | can’t help but laugh. It’s like watching a magician who messed up a trick, and now everyone is left wondering what went wrong. But in this case, the trick was supposed to be some mystical bond, and all | got was a painful reminder of my naivety.

He mutters something about it not working as expected, and Zeke, always the voice of reason, asks if Victor even bothered to read the pamphlet. | can’t contain my laughter at this point. The pamphlet, the one that probably no one reads until things go south.

Classic.

But then Zeke drops a bombshell. The trackers inside us aren’t just trackers- they're pheromone inducers. And apparently, every single thing in the field was a pheromone inducer. | try to wrap my head around it.

| can’t decide whether to be relieved that there’s no mystical bond or irritated that Victor literally took a bite out of me. It’s absurd, and | find myself laughing again. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the situation or the fact that life has a way of turning expectations into a chaotic mess.

Victor looks like he’s about to say something, but Zeke beats him to it.

“You're a f**king idiot, that’s what you are.”

Zeke declares, and for a moment, | appreciate the simplicity of his words.

No sugarcoating, just a straightforward assessment of the situation.

Safe

| look at Zeke, and we share a moment of understanding. The absurdity of it all hangs in the air like a punchline to an inside joke. Victor finally speaks, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“But the claiming bite is supposed to create a bond!”

He protests, as if the universe owes him an explanation. | roll my eyes. The universe doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially not an explanation for failed magical bonds.

Zeke shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face. “Did you even read the pamphlet?”

He asks, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. It’s a rhetorical question at this point. Who reads the pamphlet until everything falls apart?

Zeke explains the intricacies of Hunters and Hiders, and how Victor’s claim was nothing more than a physical act with no mystical repercussions. | feel a strange mix of relief and irritation.

Victor looks at me, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.

“But | bit her!” he protests again, as if the act of biting should have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. | can’t help but shake my head. The simplicity of his logic is almost endearing, in a comically clueless way. “This isn’t fair!”

Zeke doesn’t hold back. “You bit a huge chunk of her flesh, Victor. That's all you did. Congratulations, you played yourself.”

| burst into laughter. It’s a laughter that comes from the depths of my being, a release of pent-up tension and absurdity. Victor’s face contorts with a mix of embarrassment and anger. It’s a priceless reaction, and | revel in the absurdity of the situation.

| wipe away tears of laughter, realizing that in this moment, I’ve found a strange

kind of liberation. Liberated from the expectations of cosmic bonds and magical connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor's failed attempt at claiming. It’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders, replaced by the lightness of laughter.

Still bleeding. The pain throbs in my neck, and | feel a bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie, and without a word, he covers my wound.

“Keep pressing on it,” he says, his voice steady. “But not too hard.” | glance at him, confusion etched on my face. Why?

The world seems hazy, the edges blurred by the persistent pain and the growing sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands up, his expression hardened, and grabs Victor by the collar.

| watch in a daze as Zeke delivers two swift punches to Victor’s face. The sounds of impact echo in the air, sharp and jarring. Victor stumbles backward, his hand flying to his nose, blood trickling between his fingers. | blink, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before me. Zeke, the usually calm and composed one, is unleashing his fury on Victor.

“You're lucky,” Zeke growls, his voice low and menacing. “Lucky that | have to

take care of her first.”

The words hang in the air, a palpable threat that adds another layer of tension. to the already charged atmosphere.

| feel a strange mix of gratitude and confusion.

Zeke turns back to me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression. “I’m here, Alina. What do you need?”

The piece of torn hoodie feels rough against my skin as | press it onto the bleeding wound. The pain intensifies, but Zeke’s presence is a reassuring constant. | steal a glance at Victor, who’s still recovering from Zeke’s punches. He’s groaning in pain, crawling away from us. | don’t know where he’s going, and frankly, | don’t

care. Safe

Zeke stands up, leaving me momentarily, and | feel a twinge of vulnerability. But then he returns with a water bottle, offering it to me. “Drink.” he instructs, and | obey, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

take a few sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get you out of here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Losing blood, the world around me blurs, edges fading into a fog of confusion. Zeke’s voice cuts through the haze, urgent and commanding.

“Alina, keep your eyes open.” he says, his words a lifeline in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on, | need you to do this for me.”

| try to comply, but everything feels heavy, like I’m sinking into a dark pool. The pain in my neck throbs, a persistent reminder of Victor's reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. | want to ask him what's happening, why there are growls and sirens echoing in the distance, but my words get lost in the fog.

“Stay with me, Alina,” Zeke’s voice is firm, a lifeline in the growing storm. | blink, struggling to keep my eyes open. “Please.” The sirens wail, a mournful symphony, and the growls intensify. It's a cacophony that mirrors the chaos within me.

| hear Victor scoff, his voice a grating interruption.

“No time for dramatics,” he declares, dismissive and callous. “Just f**k off and leave me alone this time, you f**kers hear me?”

Zeke’s grip on my shoulder tightens, his eyes locking onto mine. “Ignore him, Alina. Focus on staying awake.” His words guide me through the disorientation. | try to nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor’s dismissive words—they all swirl around me, a chaotic dance that threatens to pull me under.

| hear Zeke mutter something, a low growl that matches the ominous sounds in the distance. The world is dimming, the edges of consciousness slipping away like

sand through my fingers. But i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me from sinking too deep.

The growls grow louder, more menacing, and the sirens intensify. It’s like a symphony of chaos, each note playing a part in the disorienting melody that surrounds us. | want to ask Zeke what’s happening, why everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control, but the words remain trapped in the fog that envelops my mind.

Blood. It’s like a scent, a signal that cuts through the air and travels far. I’ve heard about certain animals being attracted to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs in the wind. And now, as | feel the warmth trickling down my neck, | can’t help but wonder if I've become a beacon in the forest.

Zeke’s growing agitated, | can sense it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his eyes scan the surroundings like a hunter on high alert. We're not alone. | know it. The forest seems to hold its breath, and | can’t shake the feeling of being watched. The scent of my blood, a vulnerable invitation to unseen eyes.

I've heard stories, whispered tales of creatures lurking in the shadows, drawn to the scent of blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to bleed, not to become prey to the unseen dangers that roam the wilderness. And here | am, bleeding, the warmth of it a stark reminder of my vulnerability.

Zeke mutters something under his breath, a low growl that mirrors the ominous sounds of the forest. He’s on edge, senses heightened, and | can’t blame him. The scent of blood, my blood, lingers in the air like a haunting melody. It’s a beacon that

calls to those who prowl in the darkness.

| close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. The forest, once a sanctuary, now feels like a labyrinth of hidden threats. The growls, the distant sirens -it's a symphony of danger that echoes in the stillness. | can feel Zeke’s gaze on me, a silent reassurance that we're in this together.

| open my eyes, meeting Zeke’s gaze. There’s a flicker of concern in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the—danger that lurks around us. The forest seems to close in, shadows becoming more than just shadows. | press the makeshift bandage

4§ against my neck, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it’s like trying to hold back a river with my bare hands. “Don't worry,” he says, the warmth of his voice a balm. “I'll protect you. Just stay with me.”

Stay with me. The words echo in the fog, a promise that cuts through the confusion. | watch as Zeke crouches down beside me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I'm going to carry you,” he says, his words sinking in like a gentle caress, “Okay?”

Zeke’s arms wrap around me, lifting me with a strength that feels both comforting and surprising. Bridal style. | never thought I'd find myself in this position, cradled in someone's arms like a fragile whisper in the wind. But here | am, the world still spinning, and Zeke carrying me like I’m something precious.

| catch a glimpse of his eyes, a mixture of concern and determination. “You're safe with me, Alina,” he murmurs, his voice like a melody in the chaos. Safe. The word resonates within me, a longing for stability amid the swirling tempest. | close my eyes, the motion feeling like a surrender to the unknown.

As Zeke carries me, | can feel the rhythmic beat of his heart against my back. It’s a steady rhythm, a lullaby that soothes the edges of my consciousness. The fog is thick, but | catch fragments of Zeke’s voice, reassuring and gentle. “We're running somewhere safe,” he says, the words like a lifeline in the disorienting darkness.

I'm not sure where safe is. I’m not sure where we're going. But Zeke’s presence, the warmth of his arms around me, becomes a beacon in the fog.

“Don't worry, Alina,” he repeats, his voice a constant reassurance. “I’ve got you. We're getting out of here.” The words echo, and surprisingly, a sense of trust blooms within me.

I can feel Zeke’s steady footsteps, the world outside his embrace a distant blur. The growls, the sirens—they’re like distant echoes, reminders of the chaos we're leaving behind. | want to ask questions, to understand the details, but the fog

within me refuses to lift. Instead, | focus on the rise and fall of Zeke’s chest, the comforting rhythm that carries me through the unknown.

“We're almost there,” Zeke murmurs, his voice cutting through the fog. Almost where? | wonder, but the question lingers unspoken. Zeke’s arms tighten around me, as if he senses my silent inquiry.

“Somewhere safe,” he adds, his words a whispered promise. “I promise.”