Penelope’s POVHis face was hard as he took in the scene—me holding Julian, our close positioning, the tears still wet on Julian’s cheeks.Julian sprang to his feet like he’d been burned. “It’s not what you think—”“I’m sure it’s not,” Dominic replied, making it clear he believed exactly what he thought.“I should check the perimeter guards,” Julian mumbled, backing away from the fire. “Make sure everything’s secure.”He disappeared into the darkness so fast it left me staring after him in disbelief.“Convenient timing, as always,” Dominic said, moving closer to our fire. “He has a gift for showing up whenever you’re vulnerable.”Fury shot through me. I stood to face him directly. “How dare you?”“How dare I what? Point out the obvious?”“You have no right to question who I spend time with,” I snapped. “Not when you’re raising a child with the woman who framed me for murder.”Dominic flinched like I’d slapped him. “That’s different—”“Different how? Because you’re a man and I’m a woman
Penelope’s POVDominic rolled off me and jumped to his feet. His face burned red as he brushed dirt from his clothes, refusing to meet my eyes.The gray wolf began to shift. Bones cracked and reformed as fur melted away. Within moments, Julian stood where the animal had been, pulling on pants and a shirt from the bundle he’d carried.“Perfect timing,” Dominic muttered under his breath.Julian looked awful. Dark circles ringed his eyes like bruises. His cheeks were hollow, skin pale as parchment.“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dominic said coldly.“No, wait—” Julian started, but Dominic was already walking away. His footsteps faded quickly, leaving us in silence beside the fire.Julian stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the spot where Dominic had disappeared. Then he collapsed beside our fire like his legs had given out. He sat heavily on the ground, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.I waited. Something was clearly wrong, but pushing him to talk wouldn’t help.“You’re too goo
Penelope’s POVBlood soaked through the bandage on my ribs. I sat on a fallen log, trying to reach the worst cut along my shoulder blade. The fire burnt in front of me while fighters around our camp cleaned weapons and ate cold rations.I unscrewed the cap from a small jar of healing salve. Dipping two fingers into the mixture, I spread it carefully across the gash on my left arm.“Damn,” I muttered, twisting to reach the wound. Pain shot down my arm.“Here.” Dominic’s voice came from behind me.I turned to see him holding clean bandages and more medical supplies. His shirt own was shredded from the battle. Deep scratches ran across his chest where mutant claws had found their mark. Blood had dried in dark streaks along his ribs.“I can manage,” I replied, not looking at him.“You can’t reach the one on your shoulder blade.”He was right. The deepest cut ran from my shoulder down toward my spine. Every time I twisted to touch it, the cut burned like fire.“Fine,” I said through gritted
Julian’s POVThe lock clicked as I secured my private quarters. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the folder I’d stolen from the Rogue King’s office. Three deep breaths did nothing to calm my racing heart.I sat at my desk and stared at the plain brown folder. My father’s name was written across the top in black marker: THOMAS HARMON. Just seeing his name in the Rogue King’s handwriting made my stomach turn.“Whatever this is, I need to know,” I muttered, opening the cover.The first page nearly stopped my heart. “Experimental Subject #47: Thomas Harmon” read the heading. Below it was a photo of my father—not the execution record the Rogue King had shown me years ago, but my father strapped to a metal table, looking directly at the camera with terrified eyes.“No,” I whispered. “This can’t be right.”I turned to the next page with trembling fingers. Notes filled the page in the Rogue King’s handwriting, and as I read, the realization dawned upon me. My father hadn’t been execut
Dominic’s POVBlood and earth mixed beneath my boots as I led fighters through dense forest. The battle at the settlement had ended hours ago, but Rogue scents remained fresh—they hadn’t gone far.Penelope moved slightly ahead of our mixed Darkwood and Iron Mountain unit. Her enhanced senses detected signs invisible to others—broken twigs, disturbed soil, the lingering scent of mutated wolves.She was the most brilliant woman I’d ever seen. “The trail splits here,” she said, kneeling to examine crushed vegetation. “Two groups, approximately twelve creatures total.”Her hair fell across her face as she worked, and she pushed the red strands away. I forced my attention back to the tracks.“We should split up,” I suggested.“No,” she replied firmly. “That’s exactly what they want. These patterns are too deliberate.”As much as it annoyed me, she was right. The tracks created an obvious divergence, practically inviting us to divide our forces.“The main group went this way,” she decided,
Julian’s POV“The women’s defense patterns have improved significantly,” I told the Rogue King, pointing to mapped formations on the large display table. “They use a rotating shield technique that makes frontal assault ineffective.”He leaned over the maps, eyes focused on attack points marked with red flags. “Their adaptation speed is…inconvenient,” the Rogue King said, frowning. “Penelope’s training methods prove more effective than anticipated.”I carefully omitted details about Penelope’s personal combat capabilities. The less he knew about her true strength, the better. My reports highlighted defensive formations while downplaying her Moon Goddess abilities.Guilt gnawed at me each time I remembered her trust, her resilience during imprisonment, how she welcomed me into her circle without question. The way she checked on injured fighters before tending her own wounds.“Your information has been invaluable,” the Rogue King said, interrupting my thoughts. “The Council’s corruption