Chapter 138

Lauren

She was heavy in my arms.

Not physically—Sophia was slight, delicate, too small to be carrying this much weight.

It was the stillness. The silence. The fact that someone who had never stopped talking, never stopped fighting, never stopped being difficult… wasn’t breathing anymore.

I stared at her face—her lips slightly parted, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth, those big, expressive eyes half-lidded and empty. The dagger stuck out from her chest like a cruel joke. It didn’t even look real.

“You were tired of being you?” I whispered, shaking. “You’re just gonna leave me with that? Really? After everything?”

But she didn’t answer.

Because she was gone.

The tent blurred around me, the walls of smoke and fire and blood closing in. My ears rang. My heart pounded. Somewhere in the distance, someone was screaming. It was mourning, low. Someone I recognized.

And then—I heard him.

The Rogue King.

Laughing.

A deep, echoing sound that felt like it came from the forest itself. It rattled my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Wow, I mean, no, really. Wow,” he sneered. “That little froo froo weakling did that? Ha! Did she think that was heroic? That it would save her from her shitty life? That doing that for you meant something? That’s rich. What a waste. Ah well, one less traitor to deal with.” His eyes gleamed, blood dripping from his claws. “It just makes this easier. Now I can kill you without the distraction.”

He took one step forward.

I could hardly register his footsteps approaching.

I need to move!

But I couldn’t.

I need to get up!

I couldn’t.

A thunderclap split the air— both of us shielding our faces from the blast.

“What the—” GrimMaw barely got out before a streak moved past me like an avalanche. Mark came crashing through the smoke like rage made flesh.

Massive. Half-man, half-beast. His eyes burned red and wild, his body nothing but muscle and raw fury. His roar tore the sky open as he tackled the Rogue King mid-sentence, the two of them smashing into the earth with a deafening boom. The wood floor shattered into spinters. They hit like a meteor into the river beyond the camp, water shooting up like a gyster on impact.

It shook the ground, the ashe and wood raining back down around me.

I choked on a sob and struggled to scrambled bakc, still cradling Sophia’s limp body in my arms.

Mark and Sophia knew eachother.

My vision swam.

She didn’t betray him by bringing him here. They were clearly close… now she was dead and Mark…

My knees threatened to give as I stood under her weight.

I had to get her out. Had to get her away from here. She deserved something—a grave, a goodbye, anything.

But just as I started my sprint to find Alexander, anyone, something flew over me. I yelped as I hit the deck, Mark slamming into the earth infort of me in a heap.

His body was thrown across the clearing like a ragdoll, plowing through tents, rogue wolves, and stone. Bodies scattered in every direction. He hit the ground with a sickening crack that shook the dirt beneath me, Grimmaw smirking from the river, walking back with a smile.

Sophia’s body rolled from my arms.

And before I could even breathe—

A random rogue wolf was on me.

Snarling. Eyes wild. Fangs flashing. His paws slammed into my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, claws pressing into my neck.

I kicked. Scratched. Bit. But he was too strong.

My vision began to blur at the edges.

This was it.

This was it.

And then—he was gone.

Ripped away like paper in a storm.

I gasped and rolled onto my side, coughing, just in time to see Alexander standing over me, his entire body covered in blood and dirt, his wrists dripping in crimson.

The rogue’s body landed halfway across the clearing with a sickening thud.

Alexander had escaped, somehow. Then I saw it, one hand broken. He’d smashed it to get out.

My gut twisted at the sight.

He dropped beside me, wrapping me in his arms before I could fully register it. His scent hit me—smoke and pine and blood—and I clung to him with everything I had.

“Lauren,” he breathed, holding my face in his hands. “Lauren. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

But my eyes darted past him.

To her.

To Sophia.

Lying motionless in the dirt.

I pulled away from him. “Sophia—”

“She’s gone,” Alexander said softly, trying to pull me away.

“No—she—” My voice broke. “She saved me.”

“What? Okay—.” His arms tightened around me again. “Doesn’t matte now. You can’t stay here. They’re after you. And I can’t fight at full strength with you in the middle of it.”

I was completely baffled.

“What!? I can’t just leave,” I snapped. “Not now! Not without Mark. She died for me! That can’t be for nothing!”

Alexander looked panicked, like he was about to argue again—but before he could speak, something massive crashed through the brush.

Mark’s body collided with Alexander’s mid-sentence, the two of them tumbling into the dirt in a heap of limbs and snarls.

I yelped, stumbled back as there limbs barely dodged me

My heads snapped up—and saw him.

The Rogue King. GrimMaw.

Huffing.

Bleeding.

Still standing.

How was he this strong?!

His face was torn. One eye swollen shut. His hair with blood. But he was upright, panting, glaring at us with a hatred so vast it felt like it could swallow the forest whole.

“I will not lose,” he growled in almost a sing song voice.

We didn’t wait.

I surged forward with a roar, claws out.

Alexander recovered and lunged with me.

Mark rose, shaking, and joined us, the three of us crashing into the King like a wave.

We fought as one.

I slashed his chest. Alexander bit into his shoulder. Mark wrapped massive arms around him and slammed him into a tree so hard the bark exploded.

But he kept fighting.

He twisted, transforming mid strike. Flung Alexander into a rock.

Bit into Mark’s arm and flipped him into a burning tent.

He changed human instantly, grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the ground, only for Alexander to drag him off and for Mark to grab him again. GrimMaw roared and threw all of us back in a shockwave of raw power.

Everything stung, hurt, coughing, barely able to see through the blood in my eyes.

It was too much.

He was too strong.

We couldn’t win.

“What a show of strength,” GrimMaw muttered, his blood-soaked hands clapping together once with slow, mocking precision. “And yet… I can’t help but feel disappointed. This is your best? Aren’t the Lycans supposed to be strong? Aren’t Alphas meant to be feared?”

He tilted his head, voice dripping with contempt. “This proves what I’ve always known—your way of life, your rigid little hierarchy… it’s broken. You measure strength in bloodlines and titles, and sure it helps, but you’ve forgotten what real power is.”

He stopped, his boots squelching into the mud as he turned to face us fully, eyes glowing like coals.

“We never needed a pack to be strong. The true strength,” he sneered, “was always in the lone wolf.”

I was huffing into the dirt—exhausted, beaten, barely holding on.

All around me, my pack was falling. Blood soaked the earth like spilled promises, and I knew—this was my fault. Every scream, every wound. It was all on me.

The fighting had lasted so long, I hadn’t noticed the moon until it hung directly overhead—blinding in its silver glow, painting everything in light that felt too holy for this carnage.

Then… warmth bloomed in my chest like wildfire. My veins burned. My limbs shook.

And from the hill beyond the camp—clear and fierce—a howl split the night.

The world went still.

Even the Rogue King turned, his head snapping toward the sound.

There, in the silver light, stood a line of wolves. Dozens. Strong. Proud.

At their front—Abigail. Eyes glowing, fists clenched.

Beside her—Owen. Armor on his shoulder, mouth twisted in a grin.

And Theo, leaning casually on Abigail, somehow still smirking.

And behind them—

The rest of the pack.

Dozens.

Including the Alpha King.

The Rogue King’s face changed.

His expression twisted—not with fury.

But fear.

“No…” he rasped.

And then—

They charged.

The sound of paws pounding earth. The roar of war.

The forest itself answering.

And I stood, trembling, bloodied—but tall.

Because we weren’t alone anymore.

The pack, the whole pack, had come for us.