The Mating Run by Leeka

In His Eyes: Desperation

Zeke’s POV

I’m in the thick of it now.

The woman, her eyes wide with madness and desperation, swings the knife with an unhinged fervor. My instincts kick in, and I move around her with the grace of a shadow in the night. Her scream pierced the air, a guttural sound that reverberated throughout the cramped cabin. The scene is pure chaos, a whirlwind of violence, and I find myself desperately needing to restore order.

Despite the woman’s desperate bucking and thrashing, I manage to maintain my grip.

With a glinting menace, she wields the knife, cutting through the air. With quick reflexes, I duck and weave, narrowly escaping the deadly arc of its swing. I tightened the rope around her neck, knowing that I now had the advantage. With a swift kick, the knife goes soaring through the air, creating a metallic clatter that breaks the silence.

It’s just her and me now, the sound of our heavy breathing echoing in the room as we fight desperately. Despite her petite stature, she moves with remarkable speed and fights with the ferocity of a cornered animal. As the woman claws at the rope, her desperate gasps for air fill the room, but I refuse to let go.

I can’t help but steal glances at Alina, my heart pounding with a conflicting surge of fear and frustration. Helpless and bound, she writhes in agony, her body convulsing in ways beyond my understanding. Drool spills from her gagged mouth, and she convulses, trapped in the clutches of an unseen menace.

We scuffle, a frenzied clash of limbs and wills. With sheer desperation driving her, the woman unleashes a relentless assault of blows. With precision, I block her strikes and swiftly counter, skillfully utilizing the rope to restrict her mobility.

S

But she’s persistent, never giving up. As the rope tightens around her neck, the

woman’s fierce resistance takes me by surprise. A knee to the gut, a punch to the jaw – she’s not going down without a fight.

I tighten the rope, struggling to restrain her, but she wriggles free, slipping through my grasp like a slippery fish. In the dim light, our movements merge into a blur of tangled bodies. The woman’s breaths are strained and uneven, filling the air with a sense of urgency. I manage to get her to the ground, her gasping breaths mingling with the scent of the rough rope. But she’s not done. The woman wriggles and squirms, her body contorting in a desperate attempt to free herself from the tight grip of the rope.

I struggle to concentrate, torn between the insistent woman standing in front of me and the heartbreaking image of Alina, huddled on the floor. She’s not well, that much is clear, and confusion gnaws at me as I grapple with the woman.

With precision, the woman seizes the opportunity and delivers a powerful punch to my jaw. The throbbing pain in my face threatens to distract me, but I push through. After being struck, I shake off the blow and redirect my attention back to the fight. I manage to gain the upper hand for a moment, feeling the adrenaline surge through my veins as I grapple with the woman and push her toward the corner of the cabin.

The sense of urgency grips me tightly, as if time itself is slipping away with every passing second, bringing Alina closer to an unknown danger.

The woman turns to look at me, and for the first time since we fought, I see a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes. She’s scared, tears streaming down her face, and the desperation in her eyes tugs at something within me.

But I can’t afford to be swayed.

slam her head against the unyielding wall, the sound of impact echoing through the room. She lets

pleads for mercy, a cacophony of desperate words spilling from

go, please! I was scared, I didn’t mean to-”

her sobs is accompanied by a mixture of tears, blood, sweat, and drool cascading down her face. On her forehead, a large wound burst open, gushing

her words, as the line between survival and cruelty blurs. She cries the same way as Alina when she’s scared, but I can’t show mercy. The stakes are too high, and I find myself paralyzed by the weight of this agonizing decision.

touch is different this time; instead of scratching, she grips my wrist with a tender squeeze. “Please, please. I don’t want to die.

The woman sobs uncontrollably, her body shaking with each heart–wrenching cry. As my frustration mounts, it feels like a storm brewing inside me, and I let out a heavy sigh, loosening my grip on the rope.

the air. Colliding with the cabin’s wooden walls, she lets out

shattered. The forest outside echoes with her tearful sobs and haunting cries. I watch her, the soft glow of

with defeated resignation. “He was mine, the love of my life, and you ripped him away from me. Why? We never caused you any harm, our only wish was

my head, feeling the weariness seep into my

to become the Alpha in this pack. If she had been offered the same chance to follow her dreams, I have no doubt she would have taken it. She wouldn’t be telling the truth if she said. anything else. Nothing else matters except

her body barely distinguishable. The room is filled with an unsettling stillness, only interrupted by the occasional whimper that slips from

recent struggle. The cabin is suffocatingly quiet, save for the sound of her uneven breathing. With each step, my chest tightens as worry constricts its

lap, reveling in the comforting touch of her warmth against me. With urgency, I quickly untie the blindfold and remove the gag, my hands moving swiftly and desperately. With

her eyes meet mine, wide and glassy, reflecting a

“Alina?”

name escapes my lips, tinged with

no immediate response, her distant gaze suggesting her mind is elsewhere. Taking in the full extent of her condition, my heart quickens in response to the gravity of the situation. She’s not simply tired or worn out; she’s physically and

with

gently gliding over her body, seeking any signs of injury.

side. Yet, the stillness that follows is overwhelming. Alina’s lips stay tightly closed, her eyes locked

emanating from her body. The fever, like an unwelcome visitor, has

please, say something!”

voice trembling with the weight

that shake her fragile frame. I reach out and

her eyes is a striking contrast to the usually vibrant spirit that lights them up. I feel a sharp sting in my eye, but I fight back the urge to cry, keeping my forehead pressed against hers. I whisper,

here.”

remains silent, her eyes hollow and piercing, resisting my every attempt to connect with her. As fear takes hold, my heart feels constricted, squeezed with