Chapter 137

Lauren

I didn’t understand what I was seeing.

Let alone what just happened.

One second, GrimMaw was over me, claws in my arms on that bed. The next, Sophia was standing there, smirking like she’d just slapped a god and asked him what time it was.

Gold chains draped around her neck, rings glittering on every finger, her gown a little torn at the hem like it had been through hell—but she was smiling.

Smiling at him.

My wrists were still chained to the bedpost, the metal biting into my skin from how hard I’d fought it. But my entire body had gone still, frozen between panic and disbelief.

“What… the hell?” I rasped.

She blew a sharp whistle—the whistle—and everything around us erupted.

Outside the tent, the sound of metal snapping echoed like the sky had split in half. Roars followed. Not just wolves—something else. Something massive. Something angry.

And I recognized it. Mark. My brother.

“Sophia—” I gasped, yanking at the chains again, “what did you do?”

“I leveled the playing field,” she said breezily, sliding one of the Rogue King’s gaudy rings onto her thumb. “You’re welcome.”

“You traitorous snake,” the King roared, pushing of me and charging toward her with clawed hands raised.

She didn’t even flinch. Just calmly looked up, and—

CRACK.

He slapped her so hard I heard the snap of her lip splitting.

Sophia crumpled to the ground, cupping her cheek with one perfectly manicured hand.

And then she smiled up at him through bloodstained teeth.

“Oops,” she croaked. “Was I not supposed to do that? I thought he was just a stupid abomination, right? So what’s the harm in letting him loose?”

Before he could answer—BOOM.

The tent exploded.

Not from fire.

Not from magic.

But from Mark.

The roof was ripped clean off as a hulking, half-man, half-wolf beast tore through the structure like it was paper. His body was a mess of muscle and fur and raw rage, eyes glowing, jaws dripping. Blood splattered across his chest—rogue or pack, I couldn’t tell—and his claws were longer than my entire forearm.

He screamed, and the ground shook beneath him before he was tackled by four wolves.

Outside, the camp was chaos. Explosions. Howling. Screaming. Wolves leaping through the air, tearing at each other. Smoke rising, tents collapsing. I saw my pack.

Everything was fire and blood.

And in the center of it—Mark rampaged like a myth brought to life.

The Rogue King barely blinked.

He just growled, spun around—and grabbed me by the throat.

I gasped, legs kicking uselessly, the chain yanking tight behind me as he held me up by the neck.

“You think this changes anything?” he hissed.

Then he punched me—fist to face, stars exploding behind my eyes.

I collapsed back onto the bed, choking.

“Hey!” Sophia shrieked, lunging at him with her nails out.

He turned and yanked the chain around my neck and threw me into her. My chain snapped, but that was the only good thing.

We both went flying across the tent, slamming into a broken post and tumbling to the ground in a heap.

I groaned, half on top of her, my head spinning.

“Get off me!” she shouted, pushing at me.

“You get off me!”

“You weigh a damn ton, you know that?”

“Well maybe don’t catch me with your spine next time!”

“You're lucky I didn't let you hit the floor!”

Another snarl cut us off—the Rogue King charging again, transforming mid sprint.

We split in opposite directions, ducking behind overturned furniture and broken beams as he lunged, claws flashing. He was bigger than both of us. Stronger. And faster than he had any right to be.

“We need a plan!” I yelled.

“No kidding!” Sophia shouted, grabbing a dagger off the floor and chucking it at him. His tail swatted it away like a toy.

“Split his focus—one distracts, one strikes!”

“I can’t run in these shoes! They are designer!”

“Shut up and MOVE!”

We burst from cover, splitting left and right. I charged at him low, ducking under his snapping jaw and trying to swipe his legs. He dodged, catching my arm in his teeth and flinging me into the tent wall.

Again.

Everything hurt. My shoulder popped, blood smeared across my mouth. I rolled, scrambling to my feet. I wanted to transform but everything felt like it was flickering. What was wrong with me?! Was it this chain around my neck?!

Sophia leapt from behind him, slashing across his back with her claws.

He roared, turning to grab her—but she ducked, spun, and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled.

“We almost look like a team,” I panted sarcastically as she offered me a hand, yanking me to my feet.

“Don’t make me gag.”

But we moved together. I slid under him, slammed my heel into his knee. Sophia went for the eyes. He howled, his tail backhanding her hard enough to knock her sideways—but it gave me enough time to get behind him and kick with both legs, sending him staggering.

“You know what I’ve never liked about you?” Sophia called, limping as she pushed back onto her feet. “Besides that horrible kick? Everything!”

“Feeling’s mutual,” I coughed, tasting blood.

“You always acted like you were better than everyone!”

“Is now the time?!” I hissed, ducking under GrimMaw’s massive swipe. “You stole my child. My life! Are you kidding me right now!?”

Sophia darted low across the wooden floor, her heels clacking in overdrive. “Um, yeah! And I said I was sorry!”

I caught GrimMaw’s snapping teeth with my dagger, metal grinding against fang as I dropped to one knee with a grunt. “No, you didn’t!”

Sophia struck from the side, jamming a blade into his shoulder and forcing him back with a snarl. “Okay! I’m sorry, alright?! God, you're so needy about being right all the time!”

“Me?!” I snarled, getting in her face. “You centered your entire life around beating me! And for what?!”

“Um, actually,” she scoffed, arms flailing as she dodged a claw swipe. “It wasn’t just about you. Your brother and I made a really nice garden recently. That’s not nothing!”

I blinked, momentarily stunned by that answer while battle cries and literal fire exploded around us. “A garden? With Mark?! You did all this… for a garden?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “Not everyone ends up with an Alpha, Lauren. Sometimes a garden is worth living for. Like, get humbled, jeez.”

I stared at her, completely baffled, trying to remember if I’d been concussed at some point or if this was just… Sophia.

Before I could reply, GrimMaw let out a guttural roar and ripped the dagger from his shoulder, blood flying.

“ENOUGH!” he bellowed, rearing up over us like a demon born of smoke and shadow, blood-soaked and blazing with hatred.

And I knew—this next blow wouldn’t just be a problem.

His hand closed around the dagger.

Long. Silver. Wicked. It caught the light like it wanted to taste blood.

His eyes met mine, burning with something feral. Possessive. Final.

“If I can’t have you,” he hissed, voice like a curse spat through fangs, “then no one can.”

And then he threw it.

The dagger spun through the air like a promise.

Straight for my heart.

Time fractured.

I couldn’t move.

My breath caught mid-scream. My arms hung limp at my sides, too slow, too human.

I saw it coming.

I felt the air shift as the blade cut through it—sharp, slicing, cruel.

And then—

She moved.

Sophia.

Without hesitation.

She stepped between me and the blade like it was nothing. Like it was hers to take.

And it hit her.

Hard.

The dagger sank deep into her chest with a sickening, wet crack. The sound hit me harder than the blow ever could have.

Sophia gasped—a terrible, raw sound that didn’t sound like her at all. I’ve never even imagined what her pain filled scream could sound like.

Her body arched, then crumpled.

Her weight was sudden, heavy, wrong. I caught her by instinct, knees buckling beneath the shock, her blood already warm against my skin.

“No…” I whispered. “No, no, no, no—Wait! You—”

Her hand trembled as it clutched the dagger in her. Her eyes blinked up at me, wide and pained, but still somehow… still her.

Still sharp.

Still Sophia.

“Why did you—why would you—why?!” I cried, my voice breaking apart.

She coughed, a flicker of a smirk ghosting her lips even through the blood. “I don’t know,” she whispered hoarsely. “I always… hated you.”

Tears started to burn down my cheeks.

“Maybe that’s why,” she choked. “Because all I ever was… was hateful. And maybe…”

Her grip faltered.

“Maybe I was… tired of being that way… being me.”

Her eyes fluttered.

Her breath hitched.

“Tell Mark… he’s still…” A bubbled popped in her throat as her head tipped back. “The weirdest guy I know.”

Her breath hitched to nothing. Her chest froze.

My hands shook on her shoulders, her blood under my nails.

I… didn’t get it. I just, couldn’t… get it.