Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 110

Betrayed by Blood

The room was small, damp, and reeked of old wood and stale ale. Xander stirred awake, a faint sound pricking at his senses. At first, it was distant—an indistinct murmur carried by the wind, the soft creak of floorboards. But then he heard it, footsteps.

His breath hitched.

Not just footsteps—too many of them. A whisper, hushed but urgent. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

They had been found.

Xander shot up, instantly alert. He reached for the knife under his pillow, his instincts sharp from years of training. His pulse was steady, but his body was already moving. He turned sharply, shaking the old man beside him.

"Ezek," he hissed.

Ezek groaned, shifting under the thin blanket. "The hell do you want?"

"Get up. Now."

Ezek cracked an eye open, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Boy, I need my—"

Xander slapped a hand over the man’s mouth. "Shut up," he breathed. "They’re here."

Ezek tensed beneath his touch. A second later, he was wide awake, his body stiffening. He nodded.

No words were needed.

They moved in sync, Xander grabbed their bags, shoving Ezek’s into his chest before slinging his own over his shoulder. They moved toward the door, careful, silent. Every creak of the wooden floor felt like a gunshot in the suffocating silence.

Xander pressed his ear against the door, heart hammering.

The voices outside were closer now.

"They’re in here. I saw them enter," a low voice whispered.

"Orders?"

"Surround the exits. No mistakes."

Xander exhaled slowly through his nose. His mind raced. There was no way out through the front. If they went through the back, they had a slim chance. Damn it!

He glanced at Ezek. The old man gave him a knowing look.

They moved.

Xander eased the door open just enough to slip through, Ezek following right behind. The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the flickering lantern at the far end. They kept to their heels, moving carefully and slowly.

Then—

"Hey!"

A warrior stood at the other end of the hall, eyes locking onto them in an instant.

"Shit," Xander cursed under his breath.

The warrior’s shout was loud, slicing into the silence of the night.

"They’re here!"

Chaos erupted.

Xander grabbed Ezek’s arm and ran.

The sound of boots rushing against the wooden floorboards thundered behind them. Shouts rang out, commands barked. Xander knew they had seconds before the entire inn was swarmed.

They bolted down the stairs, bursting through the back door into the open night. The cold air slapped against Xander’s skin, but there was no time to feel it.

Then—the first gunshot rang out.

The bullet whizzed past his ear, so close he felt the shift in the air.

Another shot.

Another miss.

They ran.

They ran into the streets, running like their lives depended on it. Which they really did. It was way early in the morning, which meant the people were still in their homes and the road was free. Xander cursed lowly, he had a feeling that the scrawny-looking wolf at the reception recognized him. He should’ve been more careful. He was certain the boy called Callum and the warriors were on him.

They had to lose them fast, but it didn’t look like it was ever happening with how fast the warriors were running after them. There was just one escape. The woods.

The woods loomed ahead, dark and yet it was their only escape.

"Move!" Xander barked, shoving Ezek forward.

The warriors weren’t far behind, almost catching up at this point. Xander ran, the cold wind slicing through his skin.

Gunfire cracked through the air.

Xander heard the sharp whistle of a bullet, then—The first bullet struck the ground near Xander’s foot, sending dirt and gravel flying. The second whizzed past his shoulder, close, too damn close.

"Faster!" he barked at Ezek, shoving the old man ahead as they veered off the road and into the woods.

The moment they crossed into the woods, the air changed. The sounds of the town faded behind them, swallowed by the thick trees, but the warriors didn’t stop. Their heavy boots pounded against the ground unrelentingly.

Branches whipped against Xander’s face as he ran, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His body was already protesting the abuse it had endured, the long days without proper rest were quickly catching up to him. But there was no stopping. Stopping meant death.

A gunshot rang out—sharp, deafening.

Then— There was Pain.

A searing, white-hot agony tore through his leg.

Xander stumbled, his knee nearly buckling beneath him. "Fucking hell." A strangled curse ripped from his throat, but he forced himself forward, his instincts screaming at him to move.

"Boy!" Ezek’s voice was thick with alarm.

"I’m fine," Xander managed to say through gritted teeth. His leg burned, every step sending fresh waves of pain through his body. Blood soaked through his pants, sticky and warm, but he kept running.

The warriors were gaining on them.

They crashed through the undergrowth, weaving their ways between thick trunks, and leaping over fallen logs. The darkness of the forest was both their shield and their enemy.

Xander’s vision blurred from pain, but he refused to stop. He could hear the warriors’ shouts behind them, orders being given.

"Fan out! They’re injured, they won’t get far!" Someone yelled.

Damn it.

Xander gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on his bag. If they didn’t lose them soon, he’d be bleeding out before morning.

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His eyes scanned the forest, searching for something, anything. Then he saw a thick patch of brambles to their left.

"This way!" he hissed to Ezek, moving quickly. The old man hesitated for a second before following.

They dove into the brambles, ignoring the way the thorns tore at their clothes and skin. Xander bit back a groan as pain flared in his leg. They crouched low, bodies pressed against the damp floor, their breath shallow. It was thick enough to hide them.

Footsteps ran past.

One of the warriors cursed. "Where the hell did they go?"

"Search the area! They’re injured. They can’t have gotten far."

Xander stayed deathly still, ignoring the sweat trickling down his brow.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

And Finally, silence.

Ezek exhaled slowly. "You still with me, boy?"

"Yeah," Xander muttered, though his head was spinning.

His leg was a mess. Blood pooled around the wound, soaking into the dirt beneath him. His body screamed for rest, for relief, but rest was far from him.

He reached into his bag, his hands trembling and took out a small, half-empty bottle of cheap alcohol he had gotten from the inn. Ezek’s eyes widened.

"Oh, hell no—"

Xander didn’t hesitate. He opened the bottle and poured.

The burn was instant, brutal. His back arched as a sharp groan tore from his throat. The alcohol ate at the wound, taking away any lingering hesitation. His vision went black for a second, but he forced himself to stay upright.

"Crazy bastard," Ezek muttered, shaking his head. But there was something almost approving in his tone. The old man stood up and sneaked out, Xander couldn’t find it in him to stop him. He was barely catching his breath.

The man came back with some leaves and passed them to Xander, who stared at him, perplexed. Ezek rolled his eyes. "It’ll help numb the pain for a while." He mumbled.

Xander nodded, taking the leaves, crushing them in his palm. The bitter scent filled his nose, he pressed the leaves to the wound, and tore off a part of his shirt, wrapping the torn fabric of his shirt around it in a makeshift bandage. It wasn’t much, but it would hold.

For now.

Ezek studied him, his tired face unreadable. Then he sighed. "We need to move."

Xander exhaled sharply, nodding. He clenched his fists, pushing past the pain.

They weren’t safe yet.

They had to get to Vehiron first.