Chapter 180

Lila

Wolves howled in the distance, low and searching. After the third night, I realized it wasn’t random. The howls repeated in a rhythm, answering one another like call and response, a pattern threading through the trees.

By the fourth night, I was certain they weren’t wild animals, they were shifters.

I crouched near the shuttered window of the shelter, the blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders. My breath fogged the crack in the wood as I strained to hear. The howls rose again from the east, and another to the south, another farther away.

They were marking territory, positioning themselves like soldiers on patrol.

My stomach knotted. Rogues didn’t behave this way; they fought for scraps and scattered the moment they scented danger. These circled and worked together.

Movement below the treeline caught my eye. In the faint light of the moon, shadows shifted together. I swore I saw one lift a paw, signaling, before melting back into the brush.

Ruby stirred faintly, a flutter deep in my chest, but she was still practically dormant. My wolf’s silence had become a familiar ache, but tonight it felt like a betrayal.

I needed her instincts, her teeth bared, but all I felt was a weak pulse that refused to break through.

I tightened the blanket around me and pressed a palm to my chest, feeling the rhythm of my own heartbeat. The stomach fluttered as if the baby also sensed the danger outside.

Behind me, the fire popped, but my eyes stayed locked on the tree line, on the careful paths the figures carved as they moved. One disappeared behind a boulder, and moments later another emerged farther left, as though they had been handed orders.

This was no coincidence.

A chill chased down my spine, colder than the draft sneaking through the cracks in the wall. This wasn’t a handful of Rogues sniffing after easy prey. This was a unit, a Pack without the honor of a name.

I thought back to the combat trials, to the wolves moving in perfect sync, each howl and movement a signal. That was what I heard now, echoing through the forest.

My throat tightened, the taste of copper biting my tongue as I bit down hard to keep silent. The realization settled like ice in my bones. We were surrounded.

I leaned forward, forehead nearly touching the wooden shutter, straining for the faintest sound. A twig close for my comfort. Another answering snap followed seconds later, closer to the door.

I jerked back, heart hammering against my ribs.

This was a hunt. A deliberate, organized hunt.

Ronan had told me not to watch the perimeter, said it would only feed my fear. But I couldn’t look away. Every instinct screamed that this wasn’t right.

I pressed my back to the wall, the blanket pooling at my waist as I wrapped both arms around my stomach. My breaths came shallow and fast, and though I tried to will Ruby forward again, she remained faint, distant, unreachable.

The Rogues weren’t just sniffing around anymore. They were closing in.

I swallowed hard, dread rising until it filled my throat. Someone was directing them. Someone wanted me alive.

And I needed answers.

The floor creaked behind me, and I nearly jumped.

Ronan stood in the doorway to the other room, one shoulder braced against the frame, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t speak, just let his eyes follow mine to the shutter where the echoes of howls still called out.

“You’ve been watching the perimeter again,” he said quietly, not accusing but knowing.

I turned, tugging the blanket back around myself. “They’re not strays.” My voice cracked, but I pushed harder, forcing the words out. “You know it too. They move like warriors. They’re organized.”

Ronan’s jaw shifted, his expression unreadable in the firelight. He didn’t answer right away, and that was an answer in itself.

“Say it. Don’t look at me like I’m imagining things. I’m not blind, or stupid, Ronan.”

His gaze softened, but it didn’t waver. He’d always been infuriatingly steady, even when the world cracked open around us. “You should rest.”

The words sparked something hot and angry inside me. “Don’t you dare tell me to rest. Not when I can hear them circling us.” My hand tightened on the blanket until the fabric strained. “If you know something, tell me. I have a right to know.”

His arms dropped slowly to his sides, hands curling into fists before relaxing again.

Finally, he exhaled, and the weight of it filled the room. “They’re not just Rogues.” His voice was low, and I could tell he didn’t really want to share what he knew. Ever the protector.

My stomach clenched but I forced my chin up. “Then what are they?”

His eyes met mine, steady and unflinching, even as something hard flickered beneath the surface. “They’re his.”

The room seemed to tilt, the firelight blurring at the edges. “Damon’s?”

Ronan shook his head once, grim. “Asher. He’s the one commanding them. He’s not just leading raids on the palace. He’s taken Rogues, pulled them into a Pack. He calls himself the Rogue King.”

For a moment I couldn’t breathe. The howls outside pressed in closer, each one echoing the truth of it.

Asher.

I staggered back until my shoulders hit the wall, the blanket slipping loose around me. The memory of his smirk, the cruel edge in his voice, flashed bright behind my eyes.

I thought he was dangerous before, cunning and charming and obsessed with power. But this? This was something worse.

“He’s hunting me,” I whispered.

Ronan’s eyes softened, though the line of his jaw stayed tight. “He wants you alive. That much I know.”

The dread that had been coiling inside me snapped taut. He wanted me for something, and the thought of it crawled down my spine.

My pulse hammered, uneven, and I pressed both hands against my stomach, as though I could shield the life inside me with nothing sheer will alone.

I felt Ronan’s gaze steady on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet it yet. My mind replayed the patterns, the call-and-response of the howls. It was warcraft, not hunger.

Asher hadn’t just made a pack, he’d made an army. And if he could command them with this kind of discipline, then nowhere was truly safe. Not the forest, not the villages, not even the palace walls.

Fear pressed in until it was hard to breathe, because this was no longer only about survival; this was survival of an entire Kingdom.

“How long have you known?” My voice shook, but I forced it steady enough to be heard.

“Long enough,” Ronan admitted, his tone thick with the weight of it. “I didn’t tell you because I thought it would only add to your fear. But you’re right, you deserve to know.”

“You thought I couldn’t handle it? That I’d rather be kept ignorant while he closes in?”

“No.” His reply came instantly, firm. “I thought you had enough to carry. But I was wrong. You needed the truth.”

The howls rose again outside, closer this time, mocking me with their rhythm. My chest ached but at least now I had a name to pin to the terror pressing in on us.

Asher. The Rogue King. And he wasn’t circling the forest at random.

He was hunting me.