Chapter 135

Lauren

The Rogue King’s laugh boomed over the battlefield like a war drum, sharp and guttural, dripping with triumph. I’d heard a lot of cruel sounds in my life—snarls, screams, the wet snap of bone—but this laugh was different.

The paw, his paw, pressed harder against my skull.

The earth beneath my cheek was wet, warm with blood—mine, maybe. Or someone else’s. I couldn’t tell anymore. I could hear the way my breathing rasped, the choke in my throat from dirt and pain, the terrified pounding of my heart.

But louder than all of it—was that laugh.

The Rogue King, GrimMaw, stood above me like a mountain cloaked in shadow, towering, monstrous, and victorious. The sound of a man who believed he had already won.

Across the square, Alexander was fighting like a man possessed, his roars shaking the trees—but the chains around him were glowing, biting into his skin with every move. His claws sparked against the metal as he tried to rip them off, his voice ragged as he bellowed—

“LET GO OF MY WIFE!”

But the Rogue King only grinned wider.

“Wife?” he repeated, his voice smooth and thick with mockery. “Right, I almost forgot you two were, like, what? A thing once? Thought you got divorced?”

“Grimmaw!” Alexander snarled, his teeth scraping the mud. “If you hurt her I SWEAR—”

“Wow,” GrimMaw chuckled, tilting his head. “Alexander, my boy, how far you have fallen. I remember the promise you held in your teachings. Always almost strong enough, but never quit enough to finish the job. Shame.”

I clawed at his ankles with a wheeze, gaining his attention.

“Right, almost forgot about you. Sorry, but was this was your plan?,” he purred. “All this chaos… for what? A halfling? Little Mark” He gave a mocking sniff. “Hardly worth the bruises, and death, don’t you think?”

“Don’t say his name,” I hissed, trying to rise, but he slammed me back down again, cheek scraping stone.

“Oh, but why not? Isn’t this all for him?” he mused, voice syrup-smooth and maddeningly calm. “Mark, the little brother. The cage rat. The one who ran from his own reality.” He leaned down, muzzle inches from my face. “And you, the big sister with fire in her veins. The Luna they call an Alpha. The darling of the Moon even if your mother was a beast fucking whore.”

My nails raked into his paws, drawing blood, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was an artifact. “You know… I didn’t believe the rumors. A woman with the power of an Alpha from the Moon Goddess herself? It sounded ridiculous. But here you are. Big, bad, glowing little miracle.”

I stayed still, eyes locked on the ground. If I looked up, I’d see Alexander’s face. I didn’t want to see it. Couldn’t bear to.

The Rogue King chuckled low in his throat. “You know, it’s a shame. That power would be so much more useful in a son. Too bad it didn’t work out with Mark, but you two, well you seemed to have cracked it.”

My blood ran cold.

“Excuse me?” I whispered.

He shifted his gaze toward Alexander, the amusement never leaving his voice. “Oh yes. Mating with an Alpha offsets the Moon goddess’s curse, doesn’t it? Passes strength to the child, a male child. That’s the trick. That’s how you breed Lycan power in men. Isn’t that right… Alexander?”

The world froze.

Alexander’s entire body jerked like someone had punched him in the chest. He looked at the Rogue King—then at me—then back again.

And then the Rogue King dropped the name like poison into water:

“How is Owen?”

I forgot how to breathe.

My heart turned to stone in my chest, crushing everything inside it.

He knew.

He knew about Owen. About the curse. About how we broke it.

Alexander’s mouth opened, but no words came. His eyes locked onto mine across the space, wide with horror, confusion, helplessness.

I felt sick.

But the Rogue King wasn’t finished.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he drawled. “You think you’re the only ones with secrets? With scientists?”

I twisted my neck just enough to look up—past the edge of the King’s paw, past the firelight, past the line of stunned rogues—and saw them. Standing just outside the biggest tent in the camp. One with hair as red as the a morning sun.

Sophia

One in a gray coat, arms crossed, calm as ever.

Gingi.

No. No, that—that couldn’t be right.

My lungs locked up. I stared so long my vision blurred. Gingi, arms crossed, looking bored. Sophia, unreadable.

No. No, no, no—

Everything snapped together. Why GrimMaw knew everything he did.

“Gingi…?” My voice cracked. “Gingi?!”

She didn’t react.

No flinch. No guilt. Just that same dispassionate expression she wore during surgeries. That same detached interest. The clinical gaze.

“You’re a traitor!” I screamed, suddenly thrashing under the paw. “You BITCH— I’ll kill you! I SWEAR I’ll—”

The Rogue King pressed harder.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“You were family!” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I trusted you! I—we trusted you!”

Gingi finally moved. She rolled her eyes like I’d spilled wine on her rug.

“That was always your problem,” she said, like I was being dramatic at a dinner party. “You had too much heart for your patients. For others.”

Something in me cracked. She didnt think I could hear her, but my ears were far more sensitive now.

I sobbed harder, scraping at the dirt, at the paw pinning me, nails breaking as I tried to crawl forward.

“You liar—please—” I begged. “We went to school together! Cried together! I— I was there when you miscarried!”

But Gingi just stared. Cold. Empty.

Next to her, Sophia’s lips curled into a slow, venomous smirk.

“You’re getting everything you deserve,” she whispered. “Imposter.”

The words sliced through me like blades.

“Take her to my tent,” GrimMaw said, still grinning. “We begin tonight. She’ll be a fun one to break, besides, I always wanted another son. Well, a better one. We’ll keep trying until she bears one.”

No.

I thrashed, screaming, kicking, shifting in bursts as they grabbed me—three rogues dragging me by the arms, claws ripping into my skin as I fought like a cornered animal.

“Let me go!” I shrieked.

Alexander roared so loud it cracked the air.

He tore against the chains again, blood dripping down his wrists, claws sparking violently. “DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!” he bellowed, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU!”

The Rogue King only chuckled.

“Special chains, Alpha,” he said lazily, as if explaining to a child. “Made just for you. You won’t get out. At least, not in time.”

Alexander dropped to his knees, breathing hard, sweat and blood mixing on his skin. His eyes locked on mine across the firelight.

And I knew.

I knew what he was feeling because I felt it too—helplessness.

Failure.

Had they known we were coming?

The rogues pulled me toward the tent. I dug my heels into the ground, snarling, weeping, biting at hands that dragged me. The pain was distant. Unimportant.

I passed them, the two women with near matching red hair.

Gingi didn’t even glance at me, like I was simply an uninteresting subject.

But Sophia—

I spat at her, aiming for them both but finding only her. Full force. All the fury, all the betrayal, all the pain. It hit her cheek.

She wiped it away with slow, elegant fingers, never breaking eye contact.

Like she was swatting a fly. And smiled.

It wasn’t victory.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It was pity.

I let out a broken, wordless scream when I saw the approaching bed—it already laid with chains.