Chapter 8—The Hunt Becomes War

Theo barely felt the shift.

Atlas exploded forward.

But something was different.

The change was instantaneous—too fast, too smooth. Even for him.

There was no slow breaking of bones, no painful rearranging of his body. Just a pulse of something deep, something raw, something ancient—

And then he was running.

Faster than he ever had before.

Luka and Darius were only a second behind him, shifting into their wolves to follow. But they were slower. Too slow.

Because Theo was moving like something else entirely.

He didn’t think about it.

He couldn’t.

His paws slammed into the earth, his breath came in ragged bursts, and Atlas was a storm of fury and agony.

He didn’t know where they were going.

Didn’t know where the trail would lead.

It didn’t matter.

They would find someone.

And they would make them talk.

The scent of a rogue drifted through the trees.

Theo veered left without hesitation, his body a shadow in the dark.

The rogue never saw him coming.

One moment, he was standing there, adjusting the strap of his belt.

The next—

Atlas struck.

The force of his body crushed the rogue instantly, sending him flying into the base of a tree with a sickening crack.

Before the wolf could react, Atlas’ teeth were at his throat.

The rogue let out a strangled sound—a whimper, barely even a scream.

Then—silence.

Atlas dropped the body.

Not even a fight.

Pathetic.

Luka and Darius finally caught up, panting.

They both stilled when they saw what was left of the rogue.

Theo turned toward them, Atlas still raging beneath his skin.

He saw the way they looked at him.

Like they had seen something different.

But Theo wasn’t in the mood for questions.

Because the rage hadn’t left.

The pain hadn’t lessened.

He needed more.

The next rogue ran.

He must have heard them coming, must have caught the scent of blood and vengeance in the air.

Theo let him run.

Just for a second.

Then—

He pounced.

His massive form collided with the rogue mid-stride, sending them both tumbling through the dirt.

The rogue twisted, snarling, clawing—desperate.

Theo let him struggle.

Then he sank his fangs into his ribs, twisting, cracking something deep.

The rogue screamed.

It wasn’t a clean kill.

Theo didn’t want it to be.

Luka shifted beside him. “Alpha—”

Theo ignored him.

The rogue wasn’t dead yet.

Which meant he could still deliver a message.

Theo leaned in close, his breath hot against the rogue’s ear.

“Tell them,” he growled.

The rogue whimpered.

“Tell them I’m coming.”

Then, with one final snap of his jaws, he finished it.

Darius caught the next one.

A young rogue, barely an adult.

Darius had him pinned, the young wolf squirming in the dirt, eyes wide with terror.

Theo stalked forward, shifting mid-stride. His human form felt too tight, too unnatural.

His muscles still thrummed with something more.

Something older.

He grabbed the rogue by the throat, yanking him upright. “Where is she?”

The rogue trembled. “I—I don’t know.”

Wrong answer.

Theo slammed him back against a tree, hard enough to make the bark splinter.

His blue eyes burned.

“Where. Is. She.”

The rogue whimpered, blood trailing from his lips. “I swear—I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Theo’s jaw tightened.

Luka shifted beside him, breathing hard. “Theo, he’s just a kid—”

Theo turned his head sharply, locking eyes with Luka.

Luka shut up.

Because Theo wasn’t playing by pack rules anymore.

He was playing by his own.

The rogue gasped for breath. “I—there was—there was another message.”

Theo’s fingers dug into his throat. “Where?”

The rogue weakly lifted a hand, shaky and trembling, pointing toward a small pouch at his hip.

Darius ripped it open and pulled out another torn piece of parchment.

Theo snatched it.

And as soon as he read the words—

Everything stopped.

“The fire-haired one is slipping away.”

“Soon, she will not know your name.”

“Soon, she will belong to us.”

Theo’s hands shook.

Something inside him snapped.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Atlas howled.

A gut-wrenching, bone-deep sound of agony.

His hands curled into fists.

His vision blurred.

His chest ached.

For the first time, pure, unfiltered fear clawed through him.

Because he could handle losing her.

He could fight for her.

But if she forgot him?

If she didn’t remember his name?

If she looked at him and didn’t know who he was?

That would be worse than death.

Theo’s breath came in short, sharp bursts.

Then—

He turned back to the rogue.

And finished it.

His wolves watched him in silence.

The message lingered in the air like smoke.

But Theo wasn’t shaking anymore.

He wasn’t losing control.

He was becoming something else.

Something colder.

Something sharper.

His voice was calm when he spoke.

But it was deadly.

“She is mine.”

“Even if I have to make her remember.”

“Even if I have to tear the world apart.”

Then—

Theo shifted.

And disappeared into the dark.