Running on Empty

RUNNING ON EMPTY SAM HALL Running on Empty Running on Empty © Sam Hall 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except for in the case of brief quotations for the use in critical articles or reviews. Cover art and design by Damoro Designs Edited by Steph Tashkoff The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Created with Vellum Contents Stalk me! Author Note Trigger Warning Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 What comes next? Acknowledgments Stalk me! Stalk me! Facebook author group: Sam’s Hall of Heroines Facebook page here Newsletter sign up here Instagram here Book Bub here Tiktok here Author Note This book is written in Australian English, which is a weird lovechild of British and American English. We tend to spell things the way the Brits do (expect a lot more u’s), yet also use American slang and swear more than both combined. While many people have gone over this book, trying to find all the typos and other mistakes, they just keep on popping up like bloody rabbits. If you spot one, don’t report it to Amazon, drop me an email at the below address so I can fix the issue. [email protected] Trigger Warning This book was a little hard to classify. The guys are not the pricks from Forbidden Fruit, but the content is dark, so please read closely. This book deals with: A FMC that grows up in an abusive home. I have kept the flashbacks to the bare minimum and mostly deal with running away from fights between her mum and her mother’s boyfriend, not including the FMC. But she demonstrates a lot of the minimising and trauma of someone who has grown up with this. The FMC goes out on a date with a pack who are not her fated mates and a non consensual incident happens. I have tried to include the least amount of detail possible, but this might be triggering for people. The book is largely a revenge trip, like a female led John Wick, so there is a lot of violence. The dog does not get hurt! One of the male leads self harms for the thrill of it. I would suggest that if you are someone who has a history of this or it’s a trigger, you might want to avoid this book. Chapter 1 15 years later. The minute an alpha pack catches my attention, a countdown starts in my head. I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring, reaching for my phone blindly. Tap, tap, tap, there! Gotcha. I grabbed my phone then turned the alarm off without even looking at the damn thing, the movements automatic as I groaned. When I finally did crack my eyes open, I saw it was 2 pm and half the day was gone. Maybe for most people. Mine was just about to start. I didn’t want to go to work. I’d revealed as an omega in high school so my bed was my nest. The softest minky blankets I could find and pure cotton sheets that got softer with each wash. Pillows surrounded me, more pillows than any one woman could possibly need, falling against me as I sat up in bed, and singing their siren song. My wolf wanted me to just dive back into their depths, feel the way they’d cradle my body, lull me back to sleep and— Nope. Jonesy, my manager at the local pub, would fucking kill me if I was late. It was Friday and the pub would be packed with all the fuckers who could look forward to a long relaxing weekend while I pulled beers and poured shots until my hands ached. I shoved the blankets away and stepped free of my bed. A quick cold shower had me waking right the fuck up, and when I stepped out, grabbing at my towel and shivering a little, I was glad to dry off and get into my uniform. Skinny jeans that looked like they were sprayed on, because Jonesy liked his girls to look fuckable. Apparently, it helped sell more beer. A tight t-shirt with the pub logo went on over that, the neckline scooped so damn low that there was no need to worry whether I was giving the fellas at the bar a show, because I was, always. But this was all normal shit to me. I was an omega. Alphas wanted me just for my scent and for the fact I could take their knots and be panting with pleasure, rather than screaming it wouldn’t fit. Betas fetishised me, thinking I was some kind of sex-crazed nympho that would be gagging for their pathetic cocks the minute I went into heat. And other omegas? I didn’t see many of them. But when I did come across one, we’d be like two feral cats meeting in an alley. Lots of hissing and snarling went down, stupid instincts kicking in. But right now all I was concerned with was one particular group of