Page 2 of Lost Wolf (Exiled Omegas #2)

The space between the cage door and the latch is nothing more than a tiny sliver of air, just enough to hint at the possibility of freedom, and the sight pulls up an emotion I thought entirely lost to me.

Hope.

In all the time I've been here, not once has anyone made a mistake like this. Have they gotten complacent or do they truly not care what happens to me anymore?

Does it really matter either way?

No. However it came about, this is my chance to escape.

I force myself to my feet, head spinning and legs shaking with the exertion. My spine presses against the top of the cage and lingering aches stab at my joints. The green liquid's painful effects will last a while longer, but there's no time to waste.

I might never again get an opportunity like this one.

Nudging the cage door with my nose, I push it open wide enough for me to slip out of the cage and down to the floor. The landing sends a jolt through my bones and another wave of agony crashes over me. Between that and the dizziness, it's all I can do to stay on my feet.

I force myself to breathe through the pain, knowing full well that if I lie down now, I might not get back up again. Concentrating solely on inhaling and exhaling, I gradually gather enough strength to slowly make my way across the floor, my claws clicking against the cold tile as I approach the door.

There’s no latch, but the door is heavy enough—and I’m weak enough—that pushing it open is a struggle. Thankfully, I don’t have to open it very far. My already small frame has shrunk even further with malnutrition and the side effects of the humans’ injections and I’m able to slip through before I completely exhaust myself.

On the other side, I find myself in a narrow hallway, fluorescent lights flickering above and the floor a continuation of the same cold tile as the room behind me. There are two doors at either end and one more on the opposite side of the hall, but nothing to tell me which one leads out.

A surge of dizziness has the world doing a quick spin around me and I stagger to the side, my shoulder crashing into the wall. I pause there until the floor feels steady again, my tongue lolling out as I pant with anxiety and pain. Then, still leaning against the wall to brace myself and conserve my quickly dwindling strength, I slink toward the door to my right, my ears perked forward and straining to make out any sounds.

Faint voices come from the other side of the door, too far away for me to make out the actual words, but enough to tell me that this is probably not the way to go if I want to avoid the humans. Quickly backtracking, I head to the door on the opposite end of the hall. I can’t hear any voices behind this door, but there’s a black square with a red light on the wall next to it, probably some sort of key card access and not something I'd be able to thwart even if I remembered how to shift into a form with opposable thumbs.

Behind me, the voices on the other side of the door grow louder as if someone is approaching. With no other choice, I shove my shoulder against the last unknown door, thankful it swings open easily without me having to do anything else. The room on the other side is similar to the one I was kept in, except this one seems empty and unused. The bank of cages on the wall are empty, though that doesn't mean much. I was the only occupant in my room after all.

A door opens in the hallway and the sound of voices grows louder again. The voices pass by outside, and my lungs unfreeze enough for me to release a slow breath. There’s a soft beep, then the sound of another door opening and, a few seconds later, clicking closed. Whoever it was must have passed through the secured door which means I’ll have to take the risk of going through the one they entered the hallway through.

The edges of my vision go blurry—well, blurri er —and I give my head a brisk shake to clear it. My strength is fading fast and there's only so much time before they realize I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I don’t have time to be dizzy. I need to get moving. Now .

I shakily nose my way back into the thankfully still empty hallway, then return to the first door I checked. There’s no point in listening for voices this time. The other two rooms in this hallway clearly don't have exits and the door opposite this one is impossible for me to open.

I take a deep breath and shove my shoulder against the door. It swings inward, and I slink through to the other side, finding myself in what looks like a small reception area—or maybe security checkpoint. The lights are off and my nose is still blinded by the smell of chemicals, but as far as my blunted senses can tell, there's no one at the desk and the room is currently empty.

Even better, this room has an obvious exit: a set of glass doors directly across from me with what looks like a parking lot visible on the other side.

But… despite the fact that I’m panting with exertion and am only keeping my feet through sheer stubbornness at this point, I can’t help but feel like this whole thing seems a little too easy.

I can’t waste time worrying about that, though. I can’t afford to.

Instead, I creep across the room, ears perked and staying low to the floor in case there's anyone watching who I haven't noticed yet. With almost zero fanfare, I arrive at the glass doors and use my shoulder to push one side open, stepping outside into the humid night air for the first time in… I have no idea.

Years, at least.

I might not remember much about the outside world, but the humans often acted like I couldn't hear them or couldn't understand. Somehow, they seemed to forget that I have a mostly human mind even in wolf form. I was nothing more than a dumb animal to them.

They'd recite information back and forth as they reviewed their test results and each time a new one would come in, they'd be briefed on the history of “subject RO-1.” The most recent human to join my tormentors was told I was approximately nineteen years old and had been in this form for almost three of those years, a length of time my instincts tell me isn’t normal.

But none of that matters at the moment.

I'm free , though that thought terrifies me more than a little. I’ve escaped the humans, but I don’t remember how to shift forms, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a wild animal. If I’m stuck as a wolf, does that mean I’m supposed to go live in the woods?

How would I even survive?

Instinctively, I know there are others like me, wolves who can be human and who would know what to do and how to help—the word pack echoes through my mind—but I have no idea where I’d find them. Or how.

A sudden blare splits the air, the noise a jagged spike assaulting my ears and jolting me into motion. An alarm. And there’s really only one thing that it could mean: they’ve discovered my escape.

Anxiety and adrenaline vibrate my limbs and clear some of the fog in my head as I glance around, my heart rate rising. There’s a high chain link fence surrounding the area I’m in with rolls of some kind of wire on top. Directly ahead, there’s a break in the fence, but it’s right next to a small building where I can just make out a couple humans are moving around inside.

Whoever they are, the area around the gap is too brightly lit for me to get past them without being noticed. Finding a way over, or maybe under, the fence is my best bet. I dash around the back of the larger building where I was held, heading directly toward the fence on that side.

I crash into the chain link. The fence shudders with the impact, but doesn’t budge. Humans could easily climb it, but my paws can’t grip and grasp the way I’d need to scale the fence. I scrape at the ground, but the fence is anchored in concrete and my claws do nothing but leave shallow, useless scratch marks.

Somewhere behind me, a person yells about search areas and asks for a status report. Two more people respond from farther away, but they speak too low for me to make out their words from where I am.

My instincts scream for me to run, but there’s nowhere for me to go. My eyes dart from side to side, searching for another possible exit, but there’s nothing.

I’m trapped, my escape completely foiled by a stupid fence.

The breeze picks up, carrying an intriguing scent to my nose and dragging my attention to the source of the smell. In the corner where the two sides of the fence meet, there’s a squirrel sitting in a tree making a soft chittering noise. Unfortunately, I’m no more capable of climbing a tree than I am of climbing the fence itself.

But a tree can’t grow in concrete.

I run to the corner, ecstatic to find not only is the ground here dirt, the bottom part of the chain link is loose on one side where the roots of the tree extend above ground. I dig frantically at the dirt, my paws scraping against stones and sticks, not caring how much noise I might be making.

Someone shouts, the sound distressingly close by, but I keep my attention on the slowly expanding space under the bottom of the fence. The person draws closer, their voice growing louder as they call out my location to the other searchers.

I pause my digging, eying the opening. It will have to do. I force my body through the small space, the jagged edges of the broken chain link scratching furrows down my back. Something hits me in my haunches, a biting pain, but it doesn’t matter.

I run and run and run.

And run some more, the world nothing but a blur around me.

Eventually, the sparse woods give way to a more industrial area and then wide streets lined with houses. The adrenaline that kept me moving is gone, and I’m forced to pause, my sides heaving and the edges of my vision going dark with every gasping breath.

Maybe I could just sit for a minute…

I stumble, my paws tripping off the curb and into the street as I fall onto my stomach. A bright light comes from my left, then the blare of a horn precedes the sound of screeching tires as a vehicle slams into me.

The impact tosses me to the side, leaving me crumpled in the street as everything goes dark.