Page 126 of The Drama King

The clinical precision with which they hunted me was almost as terrifying as the chase itself. This wasn't impulsive rage. This was coordinated strategy, three Alphas working in perfect synchronization to recapture their fleeing Omega.

The lobby was mostly empty, just a few students lounging in the common area, looking up with mild curiosity as I burst through the stairwell door at full speed. My breath was coming in desperate gasps, sweat beading on my forehead despite the air conditioning, and I could feel the first signs of separation sickness starting to manifest. Dizziness, nausea, the kind of bone-deep ache that suggested my body was beginning to rebel against the bond rejection.

"Help," I gasped to the nearest student, a junior I recognized from my Shakespeare class. "They're—"

But she looked confused, glancing between me and the stairwell door where heavy footsteps were rapidly approaching. To her, this probably looked like a domestic dispute, pack dynamics she had no business interfering with. And she was right. No one would intervene in a fated mate situation. Biology trumped ethics in situations like this.

The main doors were twenty feet away. Twenty feet between me and potential freedom, or at least the chance to run further before they caught me. I sprinted across the lobby just as the stairwell door slammed open behind me.

"There!" Dorian's voice, sharp with triumph and fury.

I hit the doors at full speed, bursting out into the afternoon sunshine that momentarily blinded me. The campus stretchedout before me in all directions, and for a moment, I was paralyzed by the sheer number of choices. Where could I go? How could I possibly escape three Alphas who knew this campus better than I did?

It didn't matter. Any direction was better than staying.

I ran toward the academic quad, hoping the more public area might provide some protection or at least witnesses who might question what they were seeing. Behind me, I heard the dormitory doors slam open, felt rather than heard Dorian's roar of Alpha rage echoing across the campus.

The separation sickness was getting worse, waves of nausea and dizziness making my coordination increasingly unreliable. Each step sent spikes of pain through the bond, as if my body was physically tearing itself apart in rebellion against the distance I was forcing between us.

But I kept running.

Students scattered out of my way, some calling out questions I couldn't spare breath to answer. I could hear the pack behind me, their footsteps steadily gaining ground despite my head start. They were stronger, faster, better coordinated. It was only a matter of time before they caught me.

The academic buildings provided temporary cover, allowing me to duck between structures and change direction unpredictably. But the bond was like a homing beacon, giving them a general sense of where I was even when they couldn't see me directly.

My vision was starting to blur, the separation sickness combining with physical exhaustion to make coherent thought increasingly difficult. I stumbled, catching myself against the side of the theater building, and for a moment considered giving up. Going back. Accepting that biology was stronger than will.

Then I heard Corvus's voice, calm and calculating as he coordinated their search: "She's weakening. The separationsymptoms are affecting her motor control. We'll have her within minutes."

The clinical way he discussed my suffering, as if I were a lab rat rather than a person, gave me the surge of anger I needed to keep going. I pushed off from the building and ran toward the campus perimeter, toward the city beyond where I might have a chance of truly disappearing.

The gates were in sight when I heard Oakley's voice, much closer than expected: "Vespera, please! You're hurting yourself. Let us help you."

I risked a glance back and saw all three of them about fifty yards behind me, Dorian's face a mask of cold fury, Corvus calculating angles and trajectories, Oakley looking genuinely distressed by my obvious physical deterioration.

Fifty yards. Not enough.

But the gates were right there, and beyond them lay the city, anonymous crowds, places to hide. I forced my legs to move faster, each step a monumental effort as the separation sickness made my body increasingly uncooperative.

I made it through the gates just as my knees gave out.

The sidewalk rose up to meet me, concrete scraping against my palms as I tried to break my fall. Pain shot through my body from multiple sources. The physical impact, the separation agony, the fever that was building as my biology rebelled against the bond rejection.

For a moment, I thought it was over. Thought they would be on me before I could get back up.

But a city bus was pulling up to the stop just twenty feet away, and desperation gave me the strength to crawl, then stumble, then run toward it. The doors opened with a hydraulic hiss just as I heard Dorian shout my name from the campus gates.

I collapsed into the first seat, fumbling for my wallet to pay the fare with hands that shook so badly I could barely gripthe bills. Through the window, I could see all three of them at the campus perimeter, Dorian pacing like a caged animal while Corvus appeared to be making phone calls.

The bus pulled away from the curb, and I watched them shrink in the distance until they were just three figures standing on a sidewalk, no longer the overwhelming presence that had dominated my life for the better part of a year.

I'd done it. I'd actually escaped.

But the victory felt hollow as the separation sickness hit me with full force. Fever spiked through my system, making me shiver despite the warm afternoon air. The bond in my chest felt like it was being stretched to the breaking point, each beat of my heart sending waves of agony through my entire body.

This was just the beginning. The first hour of what would likely be weeks or months of physical suffering as I fought to weaken a bond that biology insisted should be unbreakable.

As the bus carried me deeper into the city, farther from the campus that had been my home and closer to an uncertain future, one thought sustained me through the growing pain: