Chapter 6 Run, Little Witch
Ysara POV
The number on my screen refused to change no matter how many times I blinked at it.
567 messages.
I sat frozen in my desk chair, with my Mexican takeout cooling beside me, and my churro untouched, which was a legit crime against humanity.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Calm down. You’re not famous. You just… posted your entire soul on the internet and then made a sugar baby account. This is fine. Chaos is expected.”
It was not fine. I took a breath and did what any logical person would do: Deleted everything from unverified accounts. Boom. Gone.
That left around 140 messages.
“Okay, cool, manageable,” I lied.
Next filter: distance, within fifteen miles only. Because I had no intention of entertaining sugar daddies who lived in New Zealand or whatever.
The inbox recalculated. 6 messages. Six. Six men. Six possibilities. Six “your life is about to get interesting” notifications.
I clicked the first one, and my fucking soul flew out of my body. The profile was verified. Close. Simple message.
Ysara,
It’s us.
Wylde and Rafe.
Yes, your Wylde and Rafe.
You don’t have to respond if you’re overwhelmed.
We only wanted to say this once, privately:
We can cover every penny of your mother’s medical bills. No conditions. No expectations.
Just let us help.
My face combusted. Literally combusted.
“Oh my GOD,” I shrieked into my empty loft, burying my face in my hands. “My HOT BILLIONAIRE BOSSES are STALKERS?!”
My brain began to spiral at record-breaking speeds. They’d found me. Immediately. WHY were they even LOOKING? I pictured them at their giant desks, reading my profile like it was a forbidden romance novel. Heat bloomed in my cheeks.
God, they were so attractive. And so rich. And so intense. And so...Wrong! This was WRONG. I clicked out before my ovaries unionized.
Message #2 was from a man offering 20k a month.
Delete.
Message #3 was someone who thought “baby girl” was an acceptable greeting.
Block.
Message #4 contained a photo of a yacht and a promise to “change my life.”
No thanks, Poseidon.
Message #5 hadn’t loaded yet.
Message #6 had a subject line that made my stomach flip:
You are my heart-track, and I am already on my way.
“Um. Excuse me?” I muttered. “Sir?”
I clicked. The message opened.
Little witch,
Your energy burns brighter than the moon.
I knew the moment I saw your profile — it’s you.
You are my heart-track.
My fated soul.
I am coming.
And you need to know something important:
You are no longer safe.
Others will scent you too.
Run if you must.
But I will find you.
—K.
My entire nervous system went offline.
“What the actual... NOPE. NO. BLOCK. BURN IT. DELETE THIS WEBSITE FROM EARTH.”
Before I could click anything, a typing bubble appeared. I froze. The new message dropped in like a blade:
You saw that.
Good.
Run, little witch.
You have a ten-minute head start.
My scream died inside my chest. I stared at the screen, pulse exploding in my ears. Ten-minute...Run…? HEAD START???
Absolutely the fuck NOT. I launched out of my chair so fast I nearly slammed into the bookshelf. Thoughts scrambled everywhere, tripping over panic and adrenaline.
Okay...okay...okay think THINK...I paced the room in wild circles. “Do I call 911? Evander? Marley? Batman? What the FUCK do I do?!”
I checked my windows. I checked my hallway. I checked my locks. My breath came in sharp gasps, the panic rising like floodwater. Three minutes passed.
Then I made my decision.
“Fuck this. I am not staying here waiting to be murdered.”
I bolted to the door, yanked it open, and fucking ran.
And only when I reached the stairwell did I realize something horrifying.
I had: No shoes. No house keys. No car keys. No phone (still on my desk). I was wearing a slinky leather cosplay outfit that looked like I was on my way to a demon-themed rave
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I hissed at the universe.
I sprinted back to the apartment door and grabbed the handle...Locked. Locked. LOCKED.
I slammed both palms against it. “NO NO NO NO...”
That’s when I heard it. A low, amused chuckle from the parking lot below. A shadow stood at the edge of the streetlights. Tall. Broad. Wrong. A voice drifted up the stairwell, smooth as venom:
“You’re still here, little witch.”
My blood froze.
“I thought you’d be more of a challenge. I suppose I was wrong.”
My fight or flight kicked in so hard my bones vibrated. I chose flight. I tore down the stairs barefoot, with my legs pumping, my heart slamming, and my lungs burning. Behind me, laughter followed.
Cold, hungry, and certain.
“There we go,” he called. “Run, baby. I’ll catch you.”
And I did...I ran faster than I ever had in my life, straight off the pavement and into the dark woods behind my apartment. With no phone, no help, no weapons, and no fucking idea what hunted me.
Only fear, instinct, and the desperate knowledge that someone dangerous had found me, and he might not be the only one.
\~~~~~
Kalesh POV
She ran like a creature born of moonlight and panic. Fast, wild, barefoot and bleeding but refusing to fall. Every instinct in my body roared with savage joy. A Heart-Track who fights the ritual? Perfection. A feast. A promise of a powerful mate.
Humans had stories about fae chases, but they never understood the truth. The hunt was not cruelty, nor sport. It was recognition. It was fate cracking open the world and saying: Here. This one is yours.
Her fear scent laced the air, like copper and starlight.
It slid over my tongue like honey touched with fire. My eyes hooded. My pulse thickened. My markings glowed along my arms and chest, reacting to her magic.
Yes...magic. Raw, untamed, and unclaimed. No “human” held that kind of power in their bones unless they were born of courts long forgotten.
She stumbled over a root, caught herself, and launched forward with a guttural curse. Brave little witch. Even in terror she swore at the forest like she swore at the world.
The woods adored her. Branches lifted away from her face. Wind shoved at her back. The ground softened where her feet struck, protecting her. The land was choosing sides. It chose her.
My lips curved. So did I.
“Keep going,” I murmured under my breath, pacing her easily from the shadows. “Show me what strength sleeps in your bones.”
She ducked under a fallen tree, scraped her shoulder, and kept moving. Her breath came in sharp gasps. I could feel the tremble of her muscles through the air, and the frantic drum of her heartbeat matching the rhythm of mine.
I could catch her anytime. A flicker-step. A breath of magic. A whisper of shadow. But that would break the ritual. The chase must end when she can no longer run. Not before.
Behind her, I let just enough sound slip, a broken twig, and a brush of my fingertips along bark, music meant to terrify and exhilarate. Her head jerked. She sprinted harder.
Good girl.
“Faster, little witch,” I called softly, letting my voice drift like smoke between the trees.
She nearly tripped at the sound. Delicious. I vaulted silently into the branches, leaping from limb to limb overhead. She never looked up. Humans rarely remembered that predators came from above.
From here I could see everything: The way her hair streamed behind her in pastel ribbons.The way her shoulders shook.The way determination cut through her fear like a blade. Her magic flared again.
A pulse, soft but real, rolled through the clearing as she darted across it. My markings flared bright gold in response. Awakening. She didn’t know it yet, but tonight was her first step into the world she belonged in.
I followed her into another thicket, stepping from shadow to shadow without leaving a footprint. She reached a narrow ravine and hesitated only half a second before she jumped across it.
Clever. Instinctive. She was a survivor.
“Seven minutes,” I murmured, not because she understood the rules, but because hearing her panic sharpen was intoxicating. Her breath hitched. She ran faster. I slowed my pace deliberately. A push. A tease. A whisper of danger behind her spine rather than on it.
Let her think she was winning. Let her feel hope bloom, fragile and bright. Hope makes the inevitable surrender sweeter. Her route curved sharply toward denser woods. Smart, she sought deeper cover. But the deeper the wild, the more it favored my senses.
The trees told me everything. She’s shaking. Her ankle is weakening. Her magic is pulsing unevenly, newborn, frightened, and brilliant.
Her body lit up to my vision like a comet streaking through the night. And gods, she was beautiful.
My heart pounded once, twice, harder than it had in a century. The Heart-Track bond was igniting under my sternum, and spreading like roots through soil.
She is mine. I tasted the thought like wine. But she does not know yet. Ahead of her, a fallen branch blocked the path. She vaulted it clumsily, her breath sobbing, with sweat glittering down her spine. Her leather straps creaked.
She was close to breaking. Close to collapsing. Close to the moment the ritual ended and fate sealed itself.
But not yet. Not yet. I let the forest murmur warnings, faint rustles, shifting shadows, and the low groan of trees bending under unseen pressure. Her head whipped around at every sound, wild-eyed, and terrified.
Then she veered left, crashing through tall brush. Sharp twigs tore at her thighs and calves. Blood welled in small beads, warm and bright in the moonlight. I inhaled sharply.
Her blood carried magic. Old magic. My steps faltered. What are you, little witch? Not human. Not mundane. Not simple flesh. A secret wrapped in fear and leather and stubborn survival.
“You shine like fire,” I whispered reverently. “No wonder the others smell you.”
Her pace staggered. She felt it. Not me exactly, but the energy gathering behind her. The old magic waking. The ritual tightening.
She pushed harder, sobbing with frustration, fury, and terror. My heart clenched. She ran with such desperate life. Such refusal. A queen who did not yet know her crown.
I dropped from the branches again, landing silently on soft earth. Close now. Only thirty paces behind her. Her heartbeat pounded against the trees. Still she ran.
Still she fought. Still she lived.
“Incredible,” I breathed.
I sped up, closing the last of the distance slowly, savoring every second. Not touching. Not claiming. Not ending the chase.
Just following. Her spirit demanded it. Her magic vibrated the ground beneath her. Her breath was an anthem. I let my voice drift again, closer this time, a whisper directly against the back of her neck carried on the wind:
“One minute.”
She screamed. And sprinted deeper into the dark. My grin widened, feral and tender and full of ancient certainty.
Run, heart-track. Run until you break. Run until the world forces you into my arms. I followed, stepping into her shadow as the forest swallowed us both.
The ritual was far from over.
And the night had only just begun.
\~~~~~
Ysara POV
My lungs seized. My legs trembled. I didn’t know where I was anymore. I didn’t know which way was home, which way was danger, and which way was him.
I only knew I couldn’t run anymore. My ankle buckled and I crashed to my knees, and my palms slammed into cold dirt. A choked sob ripped out of me.
“Somebody...please...”
Something inside me cracked. Not physically. Something deeper. Like a pressure valve blowing open in my chest. Heat burst from beneath my sternum. Terror spiked through my bloodstream. And then....the world shook.
A shockwave exploded out of me in every direction. I had sent a beacon.
A raw, instinctive, magical cry for help.