The Fox Wife

WREN

My breath came in short, sharp gasps as I ran through the endless forest. My feet were bare, my dress torn. Shadows moved in the corners of my vision, and my ears twitched, catching the faint sound of footsteps behind me.

They were hunting me.

They always hunted me—all my life.

Wolves.

My entire life had been one long chase. I could feel their hunger in the air, the sharp tang of it like copper on my tongue. The thought of being caught again twisted my stomach.

I stumbled, my legs trembling, my lungs burning for air. A howl pierced the silence, low and guttural. My heart seized.

I tried to push forward, but my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the ground, my face buried in the damp earth.

A splash of cold water jolted me awake.

"Wren!" Titus's voice cut through my daze.

I sat up, blinking as the blurry room came into focus. The dream was gone, but my reality was no better. The cramped backroom of the bar smelled of sweat and spilled beer, the walls yellowed with grime. Titus loomed over me, holding an empty glass.

"You passed out again," he growled. "Can't afford to have my girls looking like corpses out there."

"I'm fine," I said, brushing my damp hair out of my face.

"Yeah, sure you are," Titus muttered, tossing the glass onto a nearby table. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You're on in ten. Don't screw it up."

I bit my lip as Titus stomped out. He always made it sound like I had a choice.

Standing, I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. My raven black hair hung limp around my pale face, and my fox-brown eyes stared at me with exhaustion. I looked as worn as I felt. Tired and bruised.

My fingers brushed the scar along my collarbone—a reminder of the last time I had been caught by a werewolf. Being a fox shifter wasn't a gift; it was a curse. People always said a dead fox is better than a fox alive. People only wanted me for what I could give, ever since I had the misfortune of being born. My tails especially.

And Titus was no different. The first time I had met him, he had demanded a tail, and I had no choice but to give it to him, just so he wouldn't reveal my identity.

The bar was alive with noise. Smoke curled through the air, laughter echoed off the walls, and the heavy bass of the music thudded in my chest.

I moved across the stage, my body swaying to the beat. I hated every second of it but kept my face blank, my steps calculated. The men watching didn't care about me. They only cared about the fantasy I sold.

A rare fantasy indeed. The men in the bar liked exotic women—women far from the average women they saw every day and I was unlucky enough to fall into the category. With my slanted eyes, cheekbones and porcelain doll-like skin, I attracted attention, but not the good kind.

As my set ended, I grabbed my robe and slipped off the stage, ignoring the drunken cheers behind me.

"Wren!" Titus's voice barked from across the room.

She rolled her eyes but made her way to the back, where he stood waiting.

"What is it?" I asked, pulling the robe tighter around myself.

"Come with me," he said, his tone clipped.

Something in his expression made me uneasy. "Why?"

"You'll see," Titus said, pushing open the door to his office.

Inside, a man stood waiting.

I froze. He wasn't like the usual scum that wandered into Titus's office. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his black suit immaculate and out of place in this dingy bar. His eyes were dark and sharp, like they could peel back my layers and see everything I tried to hide.

"Is this her?" the man asked, his voice smooth and low.

"Yeah," Titus said, a greedy smirk curling his lips. "That's her. Told you she's a fox, didn't I?"

My stomach twisted. I knew exactly what was happening. This had been my life ever since I had been discovered, being sold to the highest bidder. All day, all the time. If Titus had revealed who I was, then he was about to sell me again.

Not again.

I muttered.

"No," I said firmly, backing away. "I'm not doing this again."

Even though the bar was a dump and Titus gave me little to no money, it was far better than the options available for me outside, being hunted to death.

At least I had a roof over my head and food to eat.

Titus turned to me, his smirk vanishing. "You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm done covering for you. Do you know how many people want you? How much they're willing to pay? Business is slow and I could use a buck or two."

"You can't sell me, Titus," I spat.

"Oh, I think I can," Titus said, leaning back against his desk. "And you should be thanking me. At least this guy's paying top dollar. The last one wanted a discount."

The man stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me. "She knows what she is," he said, more a statement than a question.

"Of course she does," Titus said, waving a hand. "Very interesting little thing isn't she? Doesn't stop her from causing trouble, though."

The man ignored Titus, his focus entirely on me. "How long do you think you can keep running?"

My breath caught. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to stop running," he said simply. "Come with me, and I'll make sure you're safe. I'll give you a better life."

I laughed bitterly. "Safe? With a werewolf? I wasn't born yesterday."

I had only needed to take a whiff of his scent to realise that I was dealing with a werewolf. And if a werewolf was buying me, then my fate was about to be much worse.

"True," he said, tilting his head. "But if you stay here, you won't live to see tomorrow. If word gets out that you're a fox hiding in this shady bar, who knows what would happen to you?"

I glared at him, her fingers curling into fists. "I've dealt with your kind before. You're all the same. You think you own the world."

didn’t think it. I knew it. My pulse raced, a frantic drumbeat in my chest. There was something dangerous about him, something that made me want to run, even though I knew it was pointless.

Titus cleared his throat. “So, we have a deal?”

The man nodded, pulling a thick envelope from his coat and tossing it onto the desk. My stomach churned as Titus began counting the money with a satisfied grin.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Titus said.

The man turned his attention to me, extending a hand. “My name is Lucky,” he said, his voice smooth and deceptively calm. “And whether you believe me or not, I’m the only one standing between you and the people who want you dead. You’re very lucky you met me.”

I didn’t move. “Why should I trust you? Every werewolf I’ve ever met only wants me dead.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “But you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”

Titus waved me off, not even bothering to look up from his precious pile of money. “Go on, Wren. You’ll be fine. He probably won’t bite... much.”

I glared at him, though it was pointless. This was my life now: being bought, sold, and hunted. Over and over again. Until there was nothing left of me to sell.

Lucky grabbed my wrist, his touch firm but not painful. “Let’s go.”

The room I was dragged into was massive, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and burning cedar. I kept my head low, my hair falling like a curtain to hide my face. It was safer that way. People couldn’t hurt you if they didn’t see you.

“This,” Lucky said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “is Wren Velyssia. A fox shifter.”

I braced myself, every muscle in my body tensing. They always reacted the same way. Fear. Greed. Hatred. It didn’t matter which emotion came first; they all ended the same: with me running for my life.

“A fox?” The voice was deep, commanding. It sent a shiver down my spine.

“Not just any fox,” Lucky continued, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. “A rare one. A nine-tailed fox.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and I felt the room shift. I didn’t need to look up to know the man in front of me—Alpha Cassian Knight, I’d overheard his name—was staring at me. His gaze was sharp enough to cut through steel.

“You expect me to believe you’ve just stumbled across a fox shifter with nine tails after I’ve been searching for one my whole life?!”

“I don’t stumble, Alpha,” Lucky said, his grin practically audible. “I deliver. You told me you wouldn’t leave my borders unless I made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Here I am with my offer. Now, maybe you’ll finally consider the alliance I proposed between our packs.”

Cassian’s voice dropped, cold and dangerous. “What kind of deal?”

I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be part of whatever game they were playing. But it didn’t matter what I wanted. It never had. I kept my head down, my heart pounding in my chest, and prayed to whatever gods might be listening that I’d survive another day.

"An alliance," Lucky said. "Between your pack and my pack. We are tired of the fight. No more bloodshed, no more border disputes. In exchange, you take the fox. Free of charge."