The Alpha's Runaway Queen

Chapter 9

Jasmine POV

My eighteenth birthday was approaching, and I could feel the changes in me as my wold, Bridget, had come forward. Unlike some stories I had heard, Bridget didn’t talk much, but when she did, she was kind, helpful, and supportive. She was also fun, but there was no attitude, no pushiness, just a steady presence I could lean on. That was a relief! The last thing I needed was a wolf constantly doubting my every move.

Despite the improvement I had made with all the training, the monotony of pack life still suffocated me. The rigid structure, the unending responsibilities, and the constant scrutiny–it all felt like a prison. I longed for freedom, a chance to experience life beyond the pack’s borders. The responsibilities of being the future beta felt like chains binding me to a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.

If Reagan heard me, I was sure he would be sad but would offer me great advice and lift my spirits. But where was he when I needed him? I hadn’t heard from him for a long time! It was as if he had become a different person. I could no longer reach him whenever I tried to call him.

A few nights before my birthday, as I was heading home after a grueling patrol duty, a car sped past me, its tires screeching on the pavement. It was racing toward the hospital, and my instincts told me something was terribly wrong. Ignoring the fatigue weighing down my limbs, I sprinted towards the hospital, hoping to offer any help I could.

As I approached, my dad intercepted me. His expression was stern, a clear indication that my presence was not welcome. “Jasmine, go home. It’s late, and you have early training tomorrow,” he ordered.

“But Dad, I–”

“Now, Jasmine. We’ll handle this.”

Reluctantly, I turned and walked back home, my mind swirling with worry and frustration. The next morning, I discovered that a female pack member had been brought in, covered in bite marks on her arms and legs. She had encountered rogues on her way home, and despite the efforts of those who found her, she succumbed to her injuries due to severe blood loss and multiple organ failure.

The news hit me like a punch to the gut the following day, even though I did not know the pack member personally. I sat in the kitchen, unable to move. I was supposed to bring the chicken out from the freezer and defrost it to make it ready to be cooked for lunch. My mom noticed my distress and came to sit beside me.

“Is there anything wrong, Jasmine?” she asked softly.

“The woman from last night…she died, didn’t she?” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mom nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Yes, sweetheart. It was a tragic loss.”

“If only I had been there…maybe I could have helped,” I said, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

Mom placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you could have done, Jasmine. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, things happen that are beyond our control.”

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I hate this! I hate the constant danger, the never-ending responsibilities.”

“What is this all about?” Mom looked confused then suddenly stern. “Jasmine, this is our life. It’s what you were born into. You need to understand that.”

But I didn’t want to understand. I wanted to escape, to find a life beyond the borders of the pack. That night, I tossed and turned in bed, Bridget’s soothing presence doing little to calm my restless thoughts. I needed a way out, a chance to experience the world beyond the pack, even for only a short period of time.

The following day, with my resolved hardened, I approached my parents with a request that had been brewing in my mind for weeks. I found them in the living room, discussing pack matters.

“Dad, Mom, can I talk to you?” I began. Anxiety started to churn in my stomach.

Dad looked up, his eyes curious. “Of course, Jasmin. What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking…I want to study in the city,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm and reasonable.

Their reactions were immediate and exactly as I feared. Mom’s eyes widened in shock, and Dad’s expression turned sour. “Jasmine, you know that’s not possible,” he said firmly. “You have responsibilities here.”

“But—”

Mom reached out. “You can study at the nearby college. There’s no need to go so far.”

“But I would like to try for the best universities,” I reasoned. I didn’t want to voice out how I didn’t want to be trapped in the pack forever and how I needed to see the world, to find out who I was outside of being the future beta.

Dad’s expression hardened further. “Jasmine, you have a duty to this pack. Not everyone gets the opportunity you have. You need to learn to see the beauty in it and cherish it.”

His words stung, but my resolve was unshaken. “I don’t see it as a gift. I see it as a prison,’ I said as my voice cracked with emotion.

“Jasmine, what's wrong with you?” Dad’s voice boomed, causing me to flinch. “You need to accept your role. Don’t run from it.”

Hurt and anger surged through me. “I’m not running from it. I just want to study and I’ll come back. You don’t understand!” I shouted, turning on my heel and running out of the house.

I ran blindly, my vision blurred by tears, until I found myself at the hill where Reagan and I used to spend time together. The memories flooded back, intensifying my anguish. I dropped to my knees sobbing uncontrollably, the weight of my unfulfilled desires and the pressures of pack life crushing me.

Bridget’s voice echoed softly in my mind. “It’s okay, Jasmine. Let it out.”

Eventually, my sobs subsided, leaving me drained and hollow. I sat there for hours, staring out at the horizon, grappling with my thoughts and emotions.

When I finally made my way back home, it was late. The house was quiet, my parents likely asleep. I slipped into my room and collapsed onto my bed, exhaustion pulling me into a fitful sleep.

The next few days were tense. My parents and I barely spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. I threw myself into training, trying to channel my frustration and anger into something productive.

The night before the eve of my birthday, I made a decision. I couldn’t keep living this way, trapped in a life that didn’t feel like my own. I needed to break free, to find my own path, even if it meant leaving everything behind, especially Reagan.

Under the cover of darkness, I packed a small bag with essentials and slipped out of the house. I made my way to the edge of the pack’s territory, my heart pounding in fear and excitement.

As I crossed the boundary, I felt a strange sense of liberation. The journey ahead was uncertain, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I also knew that I couldn’t keep living a life that wasn’t mine. I had to find my own way, even if it meant facing the unknown alone.

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Reagan POV

I stepped off the plane, my heart pounding with excitement. It was the eve of Jasmine’s eighteenth birthday, and I was finally fulfilling the promise I had made to her many months ago. The thought of surprising her filled me with anticipation, a smile tugging at my lips as I imagined the look on her face.

As the car pulled up to the house, something felt off. The atmosphere was tense. I frowned, stepping out, the excitement draining away, replaced by a growing unease.

I entered the palace and was immediately hit by a wave of chaos. Voices were raised, and people were rushing around, their faces etched with worry. My heart sank, a sense of dread settling in.

“What’s going on?” I called out.

Mom came running towards me, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. She grabbed my arm, her grip tight.

“Reagan. It’s Jasmine…she ran away.”