The air in the dungeon was a stagnant soup of mold and rot, but the metallic tang of blood cut through everything else. It was heavy, settling on my tongue until I could practically taste the copper. I scrunched my nose, moving deeper into the shadows. As I neared the cell, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The rogue's scent wasn't just feral; it was an assault on the senses. It was a rank, musky sourness saturated with the stench of rotting garbage and the cloying, sickly sweet odor of burnt flesh. It was the smell of a man who is the living embodiment of filth. I stopped just outside the heavy iron door, closing my eyes and taking a single, steadying breath. I had to bury the rage. I forced my expression into a mask of cold, unshakeable authority—the look of a leader, not a beast. With a sharp click of the lock, I stepped inside.
The rogue was a complete wreck. Chained to a heavy wooden chair, he was a map of half-healed lacerations and drying gore, his body struggling to knit itself back together under the weight of silver-poisoned wounds. But it wasn't the prisoner who caught my attention—it was Mia. She stood off to the side, looking more like a CEO than an interrogator. She was dressed in a sharp black blazer with a crimson silk blouse that looked like a splash of fresh blood against the dark fabric. Her black dress pants were crisp, and her red stiletto heels clicked rhythmically against the stone floor. Her hair was pinned back in a perfect, clinical bun, not a single strand out of place.
I watched as she meticulously lined up silver instruments on a side table, treating the torture tools with the same care one might use for expensive fountain pens. As our eyes locked, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Dressed for the occasion, I see," I remarked, my voice sounding strangely steady despite the rank scent of the room. Mia didn't even look up from her task, her hands moving with fluid grace. "No reason to look like a slob just because the work is dirty. Besides, we still have to attend the council meeting after this, so I'm just preparing for the transition. Efficiency is key." She picked up a silver-threaded whip, checking the tension before laying it back down. The rogue's eyes tracked her movements with a hollow, wide-eyed terror. He knew that beneath the polished exterior, Mia was far more dangerous than any snarling wolf.
I had grown used to her eccentricities and her strange way of looking at the world, so her antics rarely surprised me anymore. But there was one thing I still couldn't wrap my head around: the ice in her gaze. Growing up, Mia had been the sun—a bright, smiling child with a constant sparkle in her eyes. She was so sweet that I'd originally agonized over her assisting with pack duties; it was why I had initially tasked Luca with overseeing the prisoners. I didn't want the darkness of our world to touch her.
But Mia had proven me wrong. She had become far more efficient at the job than Luca ever was, and seeing her now was unsettling. With her prisoners, the light in her eyes was extinguished like a blown-out candle. She had become a professional of the dark arts—someone whose clinical, detached calm was far more terrifying than any rogue's rage. It sent a chill down my spine to realize that the girl who still laughed at Artemis's jokes was the same woman who could dismantle a man's mind without breaking a sweat.
I'll never forget the first time I saw her in the interrogation room. She was covered in blood, the crimson splatters stark against her skin, yet she was bone-chillingly calm. She stood there as if she'd spent a lifetime doing this kind of dirty work, even though I knew for a fact she was a novice to the darkness. It was her efficiency that truly concerned me. There was no hesitation, no flicker of remorse—just a terrifyingly precise focus. She was so naturally gifted at breaking a soul that it made me wonder what else lay dormant beneath her bright smiles. Mia wasn't just doing a job; she was a natural-born predator who had found her favorite way to hunt.
I shook my head, forcing the memories of Mia's past back into the shadows. I had a job to do. I rolled up my sleeves, the fabric catching on my forearms as I stepped deeper into the rogue's cell. The rogue looked up, his lips pulling back to reveal blood-stained teeth. "Where's the pretty one?" he rasped, his voice a low crawl of filth. "I was looking forward to some fun today. I'd even be kind enough to let you watch while I had her panting and begging for more."
The words hadn't even fully left his mouth before my fist connected. I put the full weight of my rage behind the punch, cracking it square against his jaw. His head jerked violently to the left, the sound of the impact echoing off the stone walls, a spray of crimson hitting the stone floor. Beside me, Mia raised a silent eyebrow, her expression unreadable, but she didn't move to stop me. The rogue spat a glob of blood onto the floor before slowly twisting his head back to face me. That mocking smirk was still there; he was baiting me, and we both knew it.
"Did I hit a nerve there, Mr. Alpha?" I ignored his taunt, keeping my voice level as I looked over at Mia. "I thought you said he wouldn't talk." She shrugged, her expression as flat and cold as the stone walls around us. "He hasn't. Not about anything useful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe you just bring out the best in him." I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I can certainly see that." I turned back to the rogue, my lips curling into a slow, predatory smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I'm going to enjoy every second of this."
The rogue glared back, his smirk widening despite the blood coating his teeth. "There's nothing you can do to make me talk, wolf. I've been through worse than you." I didn't answer him. Instead, I held out my hand. Mia didn't hesitate; she reached for the tray of instruments and placed a heavy, cold tool into my palm with practiced ease. "We'll see," I murmured, my thumb tracing the edge of the steel.
*
I had lost track of time the moment the first drop of blood hit the floor. It wasn't until the rogue's breathing became a wet, shallow rattle that I felt Mia's firm hand on my shoulder. I stopped instantly, the red haze in my vision beginning to clear. I let out a jagged sigh, dropping the stained tool back onto the tray with a hollow clink. As I stepped back, Mia signaled the waiting guards and handed me a clean towel. I took it without a word, scrubbing the cooling blood from my hands and arms, trying to erase the evidence of the last hour before I had to face Artemis again.
I watched in silence as the pack doctor stepped into the cell. He didn't look at me; he simply knelt and administered a heavy dose from a syringe. Almost instantly, the rogue's mangled flesh began to knit back together. The silver cuffs suppressed his wolf, stripping away his natural recovery, but the serum bypassed his biology. It was a mercy and a curse—it kept him from the sweet release of death, ensuring he would be whole and conscious for the next round. We weren't done with him. Not until we had the truth.
Once the rogue's breathing leveled out into a steady, rhythmic rasp, the doctor offered me a curt bow and slipped out of the cell. Mia was already in motion, her voice crisp as she directed the guards to scrub the stone floors and clear the mess. She stepped over to me, her boots clicking against the damp floor. "The doctor recommends a few hours for the serum to fully take hold before we go again." I stayed silent, staring at the healed skin of the prisoner, the adrenaline still humming under my skin.
Mia raised an eyebrow at my silence. "You're going to need more than a damp towel, Kayden. Come on—let's hit the washrooms so you can scrub the rest of this off." I finally looked at her, really seeing her for the first time since we'd entered the room. "I'm not the only one who needs to wash away the blood," I noted, gesturing to the crimson splatters on her own clothes. She looked down at her ruined shirt and let out a dry, dark chuckle. "It appears you're right." She tilted her head toward the heavy iron door, a small, tired smile returning to her face. "Come on. Let's go get clean."
As I stepped out of the washroom, the scent of antiseptic soap clinging to my skin, I found Mia leaning against the far wall. She looked me up and down, offering a sharp nod of approval. "Much better. You look like an Alpha again instead of a butcher." I chuckled, adjusting my cuffs. "Is that really why you waited out here? To give me a fashion critique?" She shook her head, the playfulness vanishing from her eyes. "No, of course not."
I crossed my arms, my patience wearing thin as the adrenaline from the cell began to ebb. "Then go ahead and say it, Mia. Stop beating around the bush." She sighed, pushing off the wall. "Always so direct. I suppose it's one of your more endearing qualities." She paused, her expression turning uncharacteristically grave. "I want to know what your plan is, Kayden. How exactly do you intend to convince Artemis to stay?" The question caught me off guard, a prickle of defensiveness rising in my chest. "I'm handling it," I said, my voice clipped. "It's under control."
Mia mirrored my stance, crossing her arms and pinning me with a look that suggested she saw right through me. "I hope by 'handling it' you don't mean relying solely on the shared pleasure of the bond. Chemistry isn't a cage, Kayden." My jaw tightened. I knew exactly what she was referring to—the heat she'd practically walked into in my office. "I don't see how my private life concerns you," I snapped, my tone turning dangerously defensive. "Mind your own business, Mia." I turned to walk away, the conversation finished in my mind, but her next words hit me like a physical blow.
"If you're intending to drive her away, then by all means, keep doing exactly what you're doing." I froze, my back stiffening before I slowly turned to face her. "What is that supposed to mean?" Mia let out a heavy, weary sigh. "If you want her to stay, you have to make her realize she has genuine feelings for you—the man. If you only try to tempt her with the heat of the bond, she'll see it as a trap. She'll leave even sooner just to escape that 'tempting embrace' before it swallows her whole." My chest tightened, a cold knot of anxiety forming where my pride used to be. I dug my heels in, clinging to my stubbornness. "There's no way you could know that for sure."
"Trust me, I know," she said, stepping closer. Her voice softened, losing its sharp edge. "I'm a woman, Kayden. I've spent enough time with her to read the subtext. Think about it—she always snaps or pulls back sharply the moment things get too intimate, doesn't she? That's not lack of desire; that's fear of losing control." I crossed my arms, the silence between us confirming her point more than any words could. Before I could find a way to deny it, she placed a light, grounding hand on my shoulder.
"I'm only trying to give you some friendly advice," she murmured. "Keep my words in mind. I would hate to see you get hurt because you were too busy hunting her to actually woo her." She squeezed my shoulder once and walked past me, her footsteps echoing toward the exit. I stood there for a long moment, the antiseptic smell of the hallway suddenly feeling very cold. I replayed every interaction with Artemis in my head, seeing them now through Mia's eyes, before finally following her out into the light.
*
*
I watched from the safety of the trees as Amelia stepped out of the building, with Kayden following a few paces behind. He looked lost in thought, his dark hair still damp from a recent wash, the droplets glistening like diamonds in the morning sun. Even in his distraction, he moved with a lethal, regal grace that made my chest ache. My heart betrayed me then, thudding against my ribs in a frantic, longing rhythm. His presence was a physical pull, a siren song urging me to abandon the shadows and run to him. I could almost feel the phantom heat of his embrace, the ghost of his fingers against my skin, and the demanding pressure of his kiss. I bit my lip, shaking my head violently to clear the fog of the bond. I hadn't come this far to surrender now.
I had tracked them here early this morning, fueled by the breadcrumbs Amelia had unintentionally dropped during her rambling yesterday. I knew they were coming for the prisoner, and I had no intention of being caught in a crossfire of emotions while I had my own questions to ask. I remained perfectly still, a wraith in the darkness, waiting with practiced patience for the Alpha and his Beta to clear the way. The air was finally still. It was my turn.
I waited until the sound of their footsteps faded completely, ensuring the coast was truly clear before I slipped out from the treeline. The building was heavily fortified; I counted four guards at the perimeter and two more visible through the glass of the main entrance. I paused, weighing my options. I could spend an hour picking a lock or scaling a vent, but time was a luxury I didn't have. A risky, bolder idea took root in my mind. It was the fastest way in—even if it meant playing a role I wasn't ready to accept. I stepped into the light, walking toward the entrance with deliberate, steady strides.
"Halt!" the lead guard barked, his body tensing as he dropped into a defensive stance. "This area is off-limits. Identify yourself this instant!" I didn't slow down. I walked until I was less than a foot from him, close enough to see the sweat on his brow. Only then did I stop. Without a word, I reached up and swept the hood from my head. My silver hair, tied back in a high, sharp ponytail, spilled out, shimmering under the overhead lights. The guard's mouth fell open, his aggression vanishing into a look of pure shock. Beside him, the second guard's eyes went wide with recognition. He snapped to attention, his spine straightening instantly before he dropped into a deep, respectful bow. "I greet our one and only Luna," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence.
The second guard snapped into a bow as quickly as the first. A wave of awkwardness washed over me—I hadn't accepted the title, and I certainly didn't plan on staying—but for this to work, I had to keep my mouth shut and play the part. In this pack, the Luna wasn't just the Alpha's mate; she was his equal in every sense. Her word was law, and to question her was to question the Alpha himself. I was banking on that reverence to act as my skeleton key.
"What brings you here today, Luna?" the first guard asked, his voice hushed and respectful. I didn't blink. I kept my expression cold, mirroring the regal mask I'd seen Kayden wear a thousand times. "I am here to see the prisoner. Open the doors."
"As you wish," he murmured. As he reached for the heavy iron handle, the younger guard leaned in, his voice a frantic whisper. "But the Alpha's orders—"
The first guard cut him off with a look of pure steel. "She is our Luna," he hissed back. "Do I really need to remind you what that means? Do you want to be the one to tell the Alpha you blocked his mate's path?" The younger man paled and stepped back, his protest dying in his throat. Together, they pulled the heavy doors open with a synchronized groan of metal. As I stepped into the dim, cool air of the facility, a third guard—another face I recognized from the training grounds—approached me with a bow. "Do let us know if we can do anything else for you, Luna," the guard behind me called out as the doors began to swing shut, sealing me inside the lion's den.
I looked back at the guards, a sharp pang of guilt twisting in my chest. The raw respect in their eyes—the unwavering belief that I belonged here—felt like a betrayal of a trust I hadn't even asked for. I'd heard stories of the legend-like loyalty packs held for their Lunas, but being on the receiving end was a heavy, strange burden. I pushed the feeling down, hardening my heart. I couldn't afford to be "sweet" right now. I turned to the guard in front of me, who remained in a respectful bow. "Hello, Luna. How can we assist you today?" "I'm here to see the prisoner," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Take me to the cells."
The guard nodded. "Certainly." He hadn't even turned around before the friction started. "Didn't the Alpha say no one was to be let in?" one of the guards at the monitor station muttered. Smack. "Don't say anything stupid," another hissed. "That's our Luna."
"But still," a female voice joined in, sounding hesitant but dutiful. "Shouldn't we check with the Alpha? He did say 'under no circumstances.' We should verify if—" I saw the shoulders of the guard in front of me tense. He froze mid-step, caught between the ancient law of the Mate and the direct orders of his Commander. The air grew thick with a sudden, suffocating uncertainty. If they reached for that radio, my window of opportunity wouldn't just close—it would slam shut.
I turned toward the voices, finding two men—one towering, the other stocky—standing beside a woman who looked ready to bolt. I offered them a slow, sweet smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Last I checked," I said, my voice smooth and dangerously even, "as your Luna, I am equal to your Alpha. There isn't a single inch of this pack's territory that is off-limits to me. But, if you're still feeling uncertain..." I pulled my phone from my pocket, waving it casually so the screen caught the light. "I can call Kayden right now so you can hear it from his own mouth. Shall I?" The blood drained from their faces instantly. They snapped to attention, their posture rigid with a newfound fear of God—or worse, an angry Alpha. I tucked the phone back into my pocket, the ghost of a smirk playing on my lips. "Good. I'm glad we've cleared that up."
The lead guard, who had watched the exchange with a mixture of awe and amusement, offered me a small smile. "Right this way, Luna." As we crossed the threshold into the cell block where I had spent my first night, the air changed. The moldy, damp stench I remembered had been replaced by the thick, coppery iron of fresh blood. It was so heavy it felt like a physical weight against my lungs. I took a slow, measured breath, schooling my features into a mask of indifference. Beneath the blood, the sharp, chemical sting of bleach fought for dominance—a futile attempt to scrub away whatever brutality Kayden had unleashed here earlier. I felt a cold familiarity. If they thought this was "dark," they had no idea what I'd seen. Their methods were likely tamer than anything the tiger shifter elders had perfected.
The guard led me deeper into the block, stopping at a small, isolated cell in the very center. He produced a heavy ring of keys, the metal clinking with a finality that echoed off the stone. Through the bars, the scene was grim. The rogue was lashed to a wooden chair, his head lolling against his chest, eyes closed in a forced, trauma-induced sleep. He had been stripped of his dignity and his clothing, left exposed and broken. Bruises mottled his skin in shades of deep purple and sickly yellow, and cuts—some deep enough to show bone—were in the slow, agonizing process of knitting back together. My gaze flickered to his hand, where several fingers hung at unnatural angles, halfway severed and struggling to reattach under the influence of the pack's healing serum.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long, weary sigh. This was messy. There were dozens of ways to extract secrets that didn't involve such clumsy, blunt-force trauma. I opened my eyes to find the guard watching me, his face a mask of concern and expectancy. He was waiting for me to gasp, to faint, or perhaps to turn away in horror. When I remained stone-faced, his eyes widened in shock before he quickly schooled his features and turned to the lock. The heavy door swung open with a piercing, metallic squeal. The sound acted like a physical jolt to the rogue; his eyes flickered open sluggishly, his head lifting by inches. But before I could lock eyes with him, the guard stepped firmly into my line of sight, shielding me from his view for a moment.
The guard stepped toward the rogue, pulling a small white towel from his pocket. He draped it over the prisoner's lap with careful, respectful movements before finally stepping aside. Realizing he had done it to spare me the sight of the rogue's nakedness, I felt a flicker of genuine affection for this stranger. It was a kind gesture, even if it was unnecessary. The moment the rogue's eyes landed on me, his grin returned, bloody and predatory. "Finally grew tired of that pathetic little Alpha?" he rasped, his voice a low crawl of filth. "Don't worry, honey. I know how to show you a much better time."
Anger exploded across the guard's face. He tensed, his arm recoiling as he prepared to smash the rogue's teeth in. I stepped into the cell, my hand slicing through the air in a silent command to stop. He froze instantly, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. I ignored the rogue entirely, focusing my gaze on the guard. "Thank you for bringing me here. I appreciate the courtesy, but I need to speak with him alone."
"But madam—" he started, his expression clouded with doubt. I cut him off with a firm shake of my head. "There is no need for worry. As you've seen on the training grounds, I am more than capable of handling myself. Please. Go." He let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders dropping. "If that is what you wish, Luna." He began to walk past me, but stopped at the threshold, turning back with a final warning. "The pack doctor recommended no excessive injuries—internal or external—for at least eight hours to let the serum work. But... if you'd like, I can have him on standby. Just in case."
A faint, knowing smile pulled at the corners of my lips. "That won't be necessary. I only plan to talk with him today." The guard's skepticism was written across his face, but he didn't argue further. "Very well, then." He retreated toward the heavy iron door, his hand lingering on the latch. Just before stepping out, he paused, looking back with a fierce, protective intensity. "I will be right outside. If you need anything—if he even breathes in a way you don't like—just yell. I'll be back in the room in an instant." I nodded, touched by his loyalty to a title I hadn't even earned. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."
Satisfied, he stepped out and pulled the door shut. The heavy thud of the bolt sliding home echoed through the cell block, leaving us in a heavy, weighted silence. I turned back to the rogue. He was watching me with that same predatory grin, his eyes raking over me as if he were already imagining my surrender. It took every ounce of my willpower not to roll my eyes. He was so incredibly smug, so certain that he had the upper hand because I wasn't a seven-foot-tall Alpha. He was about to learn the hard way that while the Alpha might be the predator of the forest, I was the monster in the dark. He didn't realize that in this room, he wasn't the hunter. He was the prey.
*
I leaned back in my office chair, the familiar throb of a headache beginning to pulse behind my eyes as Mia and Luca's voices bounced off the walls. Every hour the rogue remained silent, the tension in the pack tightened like a bowstring. I was desperate for a lead—not just for the safety of my people, but because I needed to prove to Artemis that we were capable of protecting her. I wanted her to feel secure enough to stop looking for exits and start looking at me. I was lost in thought, trying to devise a way to win her over, when Mia's report pierced through the fog. "I've checked in with all the surrounding packs. No one has spotted any rogue activity, but everyone is shifting to high alert."
Luca leaned back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head with a smug tilt of his chin. "As I said, this is likely just a lone wolf. Your mate's theory was just that, Kayden—a theory. And a paranoid one at that." I pinched the bridge of my nose, a sigh escaping me, but Mia didn't let it slide. "It's a better theory than anything you've brought to the table," she chimed in, her voice sharp.
Luca's jaw dropped, his hands falling from his head as he stared at her in disbelief. "Mia! How can you side with her? I'm your mate." She rolled her eyes, unimpressed by his appeal to their bond. "I'm siding with the truth, Luca. And before you start talking nonsense, have you actually heard back from the scout you sent to the gap? Unless you have facts to back up your claim, I'd keep your mouth shut."
Luca opened his mouth to retort, but the words were killed by the sound of my office door slamming against the wall. Darren burst in, his chest heaving as if he'd run the entire distance from the comms tower. "We lost contact," he managed, his voice strained. The air in the room turned to ice. "What do you mean by 'lost contact'?" I demanded, standing so abruptly my chair skidded back. "Which pack, Darren?"
He stepped further into the room, the flickering fluorescent light overhead casting shadows across his panicked face. "The Red River pack to the east. We haven't been able to reach them since the early hours. We've pinged their frequencies a dozen times with zero response." Dread, cold, and heavy, settled in the pit of my stomach. "When exactly did they go dark?" Darren swallowed hard. "Sometime after midnight."
"And I am only being told this now?!" My voice dropped into a growl, my wolf surging beneath my skin, claws itching to break through. Darren recoiled, shifting uncomfortably. "It's... it's not uncommon for them to have comms issues during storms, Alpha. We didn't think anything of it at first."
"You didn't think it was important while we are under a state of lockdown?" I slammed my fist onto the mahogany desk, the wood groaning under the impact. "They aren't a small pack, Kayden," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "We didn't think they could be taken down that easily." I closed my eyes, taking a long, jagged breath to keep my temper from shattering the room. I pointed toward the door, my finger trembling with restrained fury. "Go. Keep trying every frequency, including the emergency flares. And tell every sentry on the eastern border: if so much as a bird flies over that line, I want to know about it." Darren didn't wait for a second command. He vanished out the door, clearly fearing the Alpha's wrath more than the silence from the east.
I turned to speak to Luca, but the words died in my throat. His eyes were glossed over, that vacant stare signaling he was deep in a mind-link. When his focus snapped back, the color didn't just fade from his face—it vanished. He looked at me with a gravity that made the air in the room feel thin. I sank back into my chair, my heart hammering a warning against my ribs. "What is it?" "Artemis was right," he whispered, the words sounding like a confession.
I locked eyes with him, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave. "How many?" He looked at the floor, then back at me, his jaw tight. "That's the problem. We don't know for certain." My hands curled into white-knuckled fists on the desk. "What do you mean you don't know?" I enunciated every syllable, the threat of my mounting frustration causing the muscles in Luca's face to twitch. "The scouts reached the campsite. It was exactly where she predicted—right in the northern gap," Luca explained, his voice shaking slightly. "But it's empty. Based on the size of the clearing and the remains of the fires, they're estimating forty. Maybe more. They didn't see a single soul on the trek in, which means the rogues moved out hours ago. They've vanished."
I closed my eyes, forcing a breath into my lungs to keep the red haze of my wolf at bay. "We have to assume they headed east," Mia said, her voice clinical but strained. She stepped toward the wall map, her finger tracing the path from the northern gap to the silent Red River pack. "If they invaded under the cover of the comms blackout, then the battle is either still raging, or..." She trailed off. She didn't have to finish. The silence from the east was a scream of its own.
I opened my eyes after a few seconds of heavy silence. Mia and Luca were staring at the floor, their faces a grim map of worry and pity. "I think the best course of action is to send scouts to the East immediately," Mia said, looking up with renewed focus. "They can observe the situation while we mobilize a troop of warriors to reinforce them. We can't go in blind."
I opened my mouth to agree, but the sharp ping of a notification on my desk cut me off. I glanced at my phone, and the moment I read the text, I vaulted out of my chair. My heart hammered against my ribs—not from the threat of war, but from pure, unadulterated shock. The message was from a sentry at the prison: Alpha, just thought I would inform you that your mate is currently talking with the prisoner. Don't worry, though; she is fine.
My grip tightened so hard on the phone that I thought the screen might shatter. I let out a low, guttural growl and shoved a hand through my hair, pacing the small space behind my desk. "What's wrong?" Mia asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she swiveled in her seat to follow my frantic movement. "What the hell are those guards doing?" I hissed, my teeth bared.
"Kayden, what happened?" I didn't answer. I stormed around my desk, my eyes fixed on the door. I didn't care about the war room or the scouts at that moment; I needed to get to Artemis. I needed to pull her out of that blood-soaked cell before she got herself killed—or before she did something that would haunt her. But just as my fingers curled around the door handle, a sharp, static-like buzzing exploded in the back of my mind. It was a high-priority mind-link, raw and frantic.
"Alpha, we have a situation." The voice in my head was strained, punctuated by the heavy thud of bone hitting earth. My entire body locked. "Report. What's going on?" A ragged grunt echoed through the link. "The rogues... they're at the borders. They didn't just go East, Alpha. They're here." I felt my claws prick at my palms as my hands curled into white-knuckled fists. "Are you certain?" "Yes, sir," he rasped, the sound of a snarl ripping through the connection. "I'm engaging them now. There's... there's so many of them."
"Hold your ground," I commanded, my voice like forged steel. "I'm taking over from here." I cut the link and snapped my gaze to Luca and Mia. They were already on their feet, their eyes wide as they read the shift in my scent—from frustration to lethal intent. They opened their mouths to ask the question, but I didn't give them the chance. I threw my mental energy into the pack-wide link, my voice booming into the mind of every member of our pack.
"Attention. This is your Alpha. We are under immediate attack. This is a State of Emergency." I felt the collective jolt of fear and adrenaline ripple through the pack."All warriors, mobilize to the northern and eastern perimeters immediately. Non-combatants, execute Code Silver: evacuate to the sub-level safe houses now. This is not a drill. Follow your commanders, keep your heads, and we will end this quickly. Move!"
As soon as I finished the message, I cut the connection and looked at Mia and Luca; they both had determined looks on their faces. "Mia, go help protect the women and children," I commanded. "Luca, let's go take care of the rogue threat."
They both nodded, and without another word, they followed behind me as we rushed out of the office and practically flew down the stairs. The air was filled with the metallic tang of adrenaline and the distant, harrowing sounds of shifting bone and snarls. As we burst out the door, Mia veered left toward the bunkers, her silhouette disappearing into the crowd of fleeing families.
Luca and I didn't just run; we moved with the predatory speed of high-ranking wolves. We could see our other pack members rushing to join us, while the warriors guarding the borders were being driven back. They were falling toward our location, their fur matted with blood as they fought to regroup with the main force. Then, they emerged. They spilled out of the treeline like a dark infection—dozens of them, far more than forty. They were ragged, scarred, and smelled of rot, but they moved with a chilling synchronization. In the dead center of their formation stood a man in human form. He stood with arms crossed over a barrel-chested frame, a smug, satisfied grin stretching across his face as he surveyed my land. He didn't look like a rogue; he looked like a conqueror.
A low, vibrating growl started in the base of my chest, rumbled through my throat, and erupted into the air. My wolf was scratching at the surface, desperate to tear the throat out of the man who dared to threaten my home—and more importantly, the man who stood in the way of me getting back to Artemis. I couldn't help but think that, if nothing else, I could take out my frustrations on this filth. I wouldn't just defeat them; I would annihilate them. I refused to let even a shadow of this threat reach the prison where my mate was currently vulnerable. I had only just found her, and I refused to lose her to anyone.