By the time they finally burst out of the villa and into the forest—

Ashley was already ahead.

Not far, not safe, but far enough.

She stumbled forward through the dark, breath ragged, each step sending pain lancing through her body. Still, she bit down hard on her lip, forcing every sound back, refusing to let even a single groan escape as she pushed herself to keep going.

Worse, Ashley’s fever kept climbing.

Heat burned beneath her skin, her head pounding in relentless waves while pain tore through the rest of her body. Her knee should have forced her into a limp, but she refused to give in. Gritting her teeth, she pushed past it, forcing her legs to move, to run, to keep going no matter how her body screamed in protest.

Adrenaline carried her, but even that had its limits.

There were moments when her vision blurred, when darkness crept in at the edges, and she nearly collapsed. Each time, she staggered to a stop, dragging in ragged breaths, whispering harsh words to herself, anything to stay conscious, anything to keep moving. Then, with sheer will, she pushed forward again.

She repeated it over and over.

Run. Stumble. Breathe. Endure.

By the time the warriors wasted fifteen minutes in the cellar, Ashley had already cleared the hidden passage and made it another hundred meters into the forest beyond.

"Ha... ha... Ashley, you can’t stop..." she rasped to herself, forcing one foot in front of the other.

Her lungs burned like they were tearing apart, every breath sharp and shallow, her vision threatening to blur as if she might collapse at any second. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs while her body screamed for her to stop, just for a moment, just long enough to rest, but she refused. She knew better. If she stopped for too long, she might not get back up again.

So she rationed it. Two quick breaths, then move. Slow steps to steady herself, forcing her breathing into rhythm, then run again.

It wasn’t unfamiliar. Back at the camp, they had pushed her through brutal endurance drills, marathons, and combat gear marches, miles of running under the weight of heavy packs. Fail, and you’ll pay for it. That training carved endurance as much as stubbornness deep into her bones.

Even now, with her injury dragging her down, she clenched her jaw and pushed forward.

She could do this.

No... she had to.

As her pace faltered and her body grew heavy, Ashley failed to notice the tree root jutting from the ground. Her foot caught, and she lurched forward, crashing hard. Pain exploded through her already injured knee, drawing a sharp grimace as her teeth clenched tight. A groan clawed up her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to make a sound.

She didn’t know how close her pursuers were.

In her condition, she couldn’t even erase her tracks anymore. That meant one mistake, one loud noise, one pause too long, and they would find her. The thought tightened around her chest, but she forced it down. Panic wouldn’t save her. Movement would.

At least she had one advantage. She had planned this route carefully — the hidden passage, the exit point. If she could just hold on a little longer, she might gain enough distance to disappear before they closed in.

Ashley forced the pain in her knee down and braced herself against a tree, using it to slowly push herself upright. The moment she put weight on her leg, a sharp throb shot through her, reminding her just how badly it would slow her down.

Her gaze swept the ground until she spotted a thick fallen branch. She grabbed it, then untied the blood-soaked cloth around her knee. The fabric peeled away, revealing the gauze underneath, which was drenched through. She couldn’t even make out the wound anymore beneath all that blood.

Gritting her teeth, she worked quickly. She positioned two sturdy branches along her leg to brace it, then tightened the cloth back around them, securing the makeshift splint. After that, she found a longer stick and tested her weight against it to make a crude crutch that would be enough to keep her moving.

She exhaled slowly.

Ashley pushed forward, leaning on the stick, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any herbs that might help, but luck wasn’t on her side this time. Nothing. Not a single plant she could use.

So she kept going, step by step, forcing her body to obey.

Ashley had been walking for nearly half an hour when the terrain began to rise, the path narrowing as she approached the edge of a mid to high, jagged cliff beside the lake. Beyond it lay the boundary of Nathan’s territory, and past that, unclaimed land.

That had always been her plan.

If she could cross the ridge and push through, she would slip beyond the pack’s range, vanish from their radar, and carve her own way out from there.

She knew this place too well.

Years ago, when she and Nathan were still children, they had stumbled upon this lakeside by accident while playing. Back then, it had felt like their own secret world. They’d even dreamed of turning it into a hideout, something that, over time, became the lakeside villa.

Nathan had let her decide everything. Every layout, every detail. He wanted her to feel like his Luna, to have a say in something that would be theirs.

And Ashley had taken that seriously.

She had surveyed every inch of the land, memorized its edges, its blind spots, and everything. That was how she discovered the small mountain and what lay beyond it. The lake was vast enough that humans had long tried to claim parts of it, and eventually, they succeeded. Sections of the lake had opened to them, turning into seasonal hotspots.

But because it remained unclaimed, anyone could wander into that stretch of land, especially humans. They came and went often enough to assume it already belonged to them, and in a way, they weren’t entirely wrong. But assumption didn’t equal ownership. If any supernatural race decided it was worth taking, that illusion would shatter instantly.

And werewolves would be the first to stake a claim.

If another force or race moved in, it wouldn’t stay a quiet dispute; it would ignite into open conflict with Nathan’s territory.

His lands sat at the very edge of werewolf-controlled regions, which was exactly why he had been able to expand so aggressively. No neighboring packs to negotiate with, and no need to seek approval from the Elders’ Council.

If unclaimed land lay within reach, it was his for the taking, so long as he had the strength to seize it and the power to hold it.

And that was the real challenge.

Territory wasn’t just about conquest; it was about control. The larger the land, the greater the strain, because it meant that they needed more warriors, more resources, constant vigilance against rivals and rogue attacks. For most packs, expansion was a gamble, even a burden. Land could just as easily become a liability as it could be an opportunity.

But Nathan wasn’t like most.

Where others hesitated, he advanced — fast, relentless, and unafraid of the weight that came with it. For weaker packs, land was a risk. For him, it was leverage... a chance to rise even higher.