ROGUE ATTACK

Scarlett pov

He died at our feet.

Collapsed mid-aisle, eyes still wide with terror, mouth parted in that last breathless word—“Rogues.”

His blood soaked the floor in thick rivulets, trailing from the doorway to the stone beneath his body.

No one moved. No one spoke.

I stared at the broken warrior—barely more than a boy. I knew him. His name was Ashen. He used to sneak me apples from the kitchen when I trained late. He once cried after accidentally stepping on my foot during a festival dance.

Now he was dead. Torn apart. Bleeding out in front of us.

Because of me.

A cold wind pushed through the broken window behind the dais. It carried the scent of something fouler than death.

Rot. Fur. Blood.

A low, distant howl pierced the silence.

Followed by another—closer.

And then—

Crash.

Glass rained from above as a rogue burst through a side window in a flash of teeth and claws.

Screams fractured the room.

One heartbeat of stillness.

Then everything exploded.

More rogues surged through the broken doors. Not wild. Not desperate. Coordinated. Their eyes gleamed with madness, their movements deliberate.

They were here for blood.

And they weren’t alone.

I couldn’t move. My body was frozen, my breath trapped in my chest. I hadn’t shifted in five years. I wasn’t sure I still could.

Then something stirred inside me.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Her.

My wolf.

She rose like thunder, uncoiling from the corners of my soul. She snarled through my bones, pacing under my skin.

Let me out, she whispered.

I didn’t think.

I surrendered.

Pain crashed over me, fierce and glorious. My body tore itself apart and reformed in the same breath—bones snapping, muscles stretching, the air ripped from my lungs.

When I hit the ground, it was on four massive paws.

Silver fur shimmered over muscle. My claws dug into stone. My snarl shook the walls.

Gasps echoed. The fighting paused for a breath.

“She’s enormous—”

“She’s Alpha-born—no, more than that—”

Even the rogues hesitated.

But not Reed.

He had already shifted, a towering shadow of black fur and glowing red eyes. A true Lycan. Cold. Efficient.

And when he saw me, he didn’t flinch.

He nodded.

Like he expected it.

A rogue lunged at the council.

I met it mid-air.

My teeth locked on its throat. Its momentum slammed us into the ground, but I held on. I didn’t stop until I felt the bone crack and its limbs went still.

Another rogue charged.

I turned, faster than thought, and drove my claws into its chest. Blood sprayed across the floor. I threw it off and met the next.

My mind was clear. My body alive.

This wasn’t fury.

This was purpose.

Lucian’s wolf was fast and feral, his golden eyes blazing. He moved beside me, defending the left flank, shoulders brushing mine.

Kael fought near the council, golden-furred, silent and savage—but my wolf barely acknowledged him.

Because Reed was at my back. And the bond between us pulsed like lightning, humming low and hot. Not distracting—but anchoring.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t need to.

We moved as one.

A rogue leapt for him. He stepped aside, slashed its throat, and kept walking. Another tried to flank me. I ducked low, letting Lucian take it out from behind.

Every second was blood and claw and movement.

And still, I knew exactly where he was.

As if the mate bond tethered him to me.

I didn’t want it.

But I couldn’t deny it.

We cut them down like reapers.

By the time the last rogue fell, my breath was heavy, my fur soaked in blood. The room was wrecked—tables shattered, walls splintered, bodies littering the floor.

Silence returned. But it wasn’t relief.

It was waiting.

Reed shifted back first, calm and graceful. He grabbed a cloak from a fallen guard and turned to face the room. Unbothered. Unyielding.

Darius hadn’t shifted. He stood trembling beside the shattered dais, his ceremonial clothes bloodied, his eyes darting.

He hadn’t lifted a finger to fight.

Reed’s voice carried like a blade. “Secure the hall. Search the grounds. Post guards at every entrance.”

Someone whispered, “She’s as big as the Lycan…”

“She might be bigger,” another muttered.

I shifted back slowly. My limbs trembled. The cloak someone draped over me was too heavy, too warm. I didn’t care.

Bastian, the council elder, moved to my side. His eyes lingered on the bloodied rogue corpses, then on me. “That wasn’t a random attack.”

“No,” I said. “It was timed. They waited until the ritual started.”

Lucian stepped beside me, panting. “They were after her.”

One of the surviving guards stepped forward, eyes wide. “Before the last one fell, he said something. I heard it—‘The bloodline burns tonight.’”

Gasps rippled across the survivors.

Reed’s jaw flexed. “A targeted strike.”

Reyes glared at me. “You’ve brought war to this pack.”

I turned, slowly. “No. You invited it when you crowned a false Alpha and pretended I was dead.”

He didn’t answer.

Kael stood further off, his eyes locked on me. Something unreadable in them.

Guilt. Jealousy. Regret.

I ignored it.

Councilor Elara stepped forward, shaking slightly. “We must notify the regional courts. The rogue presence has escalated.”

“No,” Reed said. “We notify the Lycan King directly.”

That sent a ripple of shock through the room.

Reed’s gaze swept across the council. “This is no longer a succession issue. It’s a matter of national security. The Monroe line was marked by the Moon Goddess herself. And tonight, someone tried to end it.”

Darius opened his mouth. “They attacked all of us—”

“But they killed Ashen,” I interrupted. “A loyal pack wolf who served the Monroe line. And they aimed for the dais—where I stood. Don’t pretend this wasn’t a message.”

He flinched.

Reed stepped closer, his voice lowering. “A message the Crown received. Loud and clear.”

Councilor Bastian spoke softly. “What do you need from us, Your Highness?”

“A list of all outside visitors over the last month. Trade records. Patrol rotations. And I want all surviving rogues’ bodies examined. If they have markings, tattoos—anything. I want to know who sent them.”

He turned to Reyes. “And if I find your hand in any of it—”

“You won’t,” Reyes growled.

“We’ll see.”

Lucian turned to me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “I’m more than okay.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “You were terrifying, Scar.”

“And beautiful,” said another voice—quiet, uncertain.

Kael.

I met his gaze. “Too little. Too late.”

I turned away before he could respond.

My hand brushed Reed’s arm as I passed him. That jolt again—hot, sharp, and so much worse this time. My breath caught. His did too.

I turned slightly. Our eyes met—and everything around us stilled. For a second, I didn’t see the blood on the floor, or the ruined hall. I saw him.

The predator. The protector. The mate.

And it terrified me how my body leaned—just slightly—toward his. Like gravity had changed and he was now its source.

His pupils darkened, jaw tight. Like he was fighting something. I was, too.

“You fight like someone who knows me,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, and it wasn’t just words. It felt like a truth neither of us wanted to admit.

My heart thudded painfully. “I’m not yours.”

His gaze dropped—briefly—to my lips. “Tell that to the bond.”

I swallowed. Stepped back. The air felt too thin.

He didn’t chase me.

But as I walked away, I knew he was still watching.

And worse—I wanted him to.