Chapter 134

Lauren

We reached the outskirts of the rogue encampment just before dawn, the sky streaked in shades of violet and bruised gray. The trees grew closer together here, gnarled and black, bark peeling like old wounds that had never healed. Wind whispered through the dead leaves, dragging the scent of rot and blood toward us.

The forest floor sloped downward into a hollow basin of shadow and firelight—the rogue camp. Hidden in the bushes, we crouched low, breath held tight, watching.

It was… and odd sight. A mix of old and new blurred together in a camp of what seemed to be more modern, with hutches or tents on the side. The mix of people and wolves were wild, clearly different groups, traitors, and ragtag gangs all pinched together to make this army of mitfits. Still, there were more then I thought.

My eyes sweeped over the lavished tents and camps with laughing men, some preparing breakfasts others leaving in trucks with suits. Odd. But can’t say I was surprised, existing in the two worlds, men and wolf, was a hard place to be.

Then, I froze, zeroing in between the shifting bodies.

There, in the center of the camp, surrounded by makeshift barricades, a steel cage, and smoldering torches, was Mark.

Caged like an animal.

My stomach twisted.

He was still huge, the biggest half-ling I have ever seen.

But his hair was longer, matted in places with dirt and dried blood—wolf ears twitching. His shirt hung in tatters off his shoulders, ribs showing, skin pale beneath the bruises. He sat slumped, eyes glassy, but alive. That was enough. He’s alive.

Alexander let out a slow, quiet breath beside me, jaw tight. Liam crouched on my other side, eyes scanning the perimeter, his usual snark buried beneath a layer of silent fury.

“We’re outnumbered,” Alexander muttered. “At least thirty that I can see. Probably more in the tents.”

“They haven’t posted lookouts high enough,” Liam said. “But they’re alert. Trained. That’s not a scattered group. That’s organized.”

“We should wait. Hit them quietly. Take out the outer edges and move inward,” Alexander offered, calculating as ever.

“We don’t have time,” I hissed. “They’ve got Mark caged in the middle of their damn camp like a trophy. We go loud. Fast. Straight through.”

Alexander gave me a sharp look. “That’s suicide.”

Liam grunted. “So is standing here arguing about it.”

“Then vote,” I snapped. “Stealth or chaos?”

“I say stealth,” Alexander said instantly.

“But that will take too long! They could take him away before we get close,” I bit back.

We both looked to Liam.

He smirked faintly. “Well, this is awkward.”

But before he could answer—

“HEY!”

A sharp voice rang through the trees.

Every breath vanished.

One of the rogues stood across the clearing, squinting toward our bush. His hand reached for the horn at his hip.

Shit.

Too late.

The horn sounded, a shrill, snarling cry that echoed off the trees like a death toll.

“All right then,” I muttered. “Chaos it is.”

Alexander burst forward, shifting back mid-stride—his bones cracked and fur exploded across his body in a rush of silver and black. A blur of claws and fury.

I followed him, feeling the shift grip my spine like fire.

Pain seared through me. My limbs stretched, bones breaking and reforming. Dawny fur surged over my skin. My eyes burned, my fangs descended, and when I hit the ground on four legs, the forest trembled beneath my paws.

Liam howled behind us, and the pack answered as one.

We stormed the camp like a storm front crashing through the trees—blades, claws, and teeth. The first wave of rogues barely had time to grab weapons or transform before we were on them.

I slammed into a brown-furred wolf, knocking him off his paws and driving my fangs into his shoulder. I was larger now, bigger then most wolves.

He shrieked, twisted, snapped at me, but I was already past him, leaping over his fallen body and into the heart of the chaos.

Alexander tore through a knot of three rogues, fangs flashing, fur bristling. He was a force—clean, brutal, merciless. They barely stood a chance.

I fought beside him, clawing and snapping, my body burning with unfamiliar strength. One wolf lunged for me and I met him midair, flipping him with my back paws and raking my claws across his side. He hit the dirt hard and didn’t get back up.

But more came.

And more.

Their eyes widened when they saw me—me, not Alexander. I saw the confusion flicker in their faces. Saw their fear.

“She’s Alpha-sized—!”

“That’s the Luna?!”

I didn’t give them time to be shocked. I took out the nearest rogue with a blow that split his chest and sent him sprawling.

But still—they kept coming.

And soon, it wasn’t a battle.

It was a flood.

I’m not sure how much time had past when I heard Liam’s growl twist into a yelp, and my head snapped toward the sound. He was pinned, a dark wolf looming over him, teeth bared, a long curved blade clutched in his jaws.

No.

I surged toward him—but I was too far.

Until Alexander moved.

He threw himself into the rogue, sending them both tumbling into the dirt. He didn’t stop to ask questions—he shifted back mid-roll, teeth bared, slamming a fist into the rogue’s jaw before they could recover. But the rogue didn’t attack back.

He twisted, fumbling with something—

Chains.

He wasn’t trying to kill Alexander.

He was trying to bind him.

I released it far to late as the wolves, way too many swarmed him.

“It’s a trap!” I shouted—my voice rough through my throat. We needed an out—fast.

I turned and sprinted through the camp toward the cage—Mark—dodging between tents, biting through ropes, clawing past enemies. If i could get him out, he could help me get Alexander, we could make it out.

I reached the cage, ducking under a flying body and slamming into the bars.

His eyes met mine—wide, panicked, wild, as if to say. “L-Lauren?”

“I’m here,” I gasped, shifting back into human form with a grimace. My hands shook as I reached for the lock. “I’m getting you out.”

He waved me away, eyes wide in fear.

“I know.” I ripped at the cage, blood on my hands from who-knows-what. “But you’re coming home, Mark. I promise.”

And then—

Pain.

A weight slammed into my back, knocking the breath from my lungs. I hit the ground hard, shoulder scraping stone. My vision whited out for a second. Something snarled above me.

I turned, kicking wildly, but it was too late.

A massive, stone painted paw slammed into my head, pinning me down.

Not just any wolf.

Him.

The Rogue King.

He towered above me, hulking like a mountain, colored like one too, his fur gleaming with battle sweat and blood. His amber eyes burned like fire, and when he opened his mouth, his fangs dripped with something darker than spit.

He pressed his weight down on my skull until my cheek scraped the dirt, claws curling slightly into my scalp.

And then he howled.

It wasn’t a battle cry.

It was a command.

Every rogue paused.

Even the ones mid-fight.

Silence fell across the camp.

I struggled, snarling, trying to shift again—but his claws pinned me hard.

I saw Mark still trapped in the cage, clutching the bars.

I saw Alexander, bloodied and clawed, surrounded by five wolves with chains in their jaws, men pulling them taught.

I saw Liam dragging himself across the dirt toward me, limping, blood pouring from his side.

I’d led them here.

And now…

We were losing.