Chapter 3: The Rogues are Coming

This chapter offers many points of view.

Adrian

I had not batted an eye against rogue Alphas.

I had stood motionless as their blood seeped into the ground, burying pack members myself. I had arranged flimsy truces under full moons and shattered teeth when diplomacy failed.

None of that compared to the silent torture of đứng at the front of a classroom while my buddy sat three rows back pretending I did not exist.

In my thoughts, the word still felt hazardous. Buddy.

The moment her lips brushed mine, my wolf accepted it. There had been no doubt, no hesitation, just acknowledgment so strong it almost compelled a shift in a packed hallway. On her lips I had tasted destiny; felt the link tighten like a steel trap around my soul.

She was also seventeen years old. Someone who attends class.

Human—at least she assumed so.

I dismissed the class and clutched my desk, making myself to exhale slowly. The bell rang, merciful and sharp, letting a wave of bodies into the hallway. Head down, Elara followed them; her perfume trailed behind her like a live being.

Wildflowers, rain, moonlight.

My wolf surged ahead, hostile and greedy.

mine. "No," I mumbled quietly.

The term was for myself as it was for him.

Letting out the breath I had been holding, I waited until the room was empty. The walls still seemed too near. Her presence lingered like heat after fire, and the bond hummed under my skin, demanding attention.

Not like this, this was not meant to happen.

I had come to Oakhaven to guard my territory, to shield my pack from the unrest infiltrating the forests. Not a curse encased in improbable decisions, the mate bond was meant to be a boon given just at the proper time.

Quickly packing my stuff, I departed the school; every stride far from her felt like retribution.

Outside, the late afternoon sky promised rain. Ancient and wary, the forest towered past the parking lot. My wolf yearned it, yearning release. I didn't fight him.

The transformation ripped through me the minute I crossed the tree line.

Cracked bones. Muscles extended. The planet honed itself into sound, scent, and gut instinct. Sinking into the familiar weight of fur and strength as I descended onto four enormous paws onto the forest floor, I welcomed it.

Liberty. I rushed.

As I pressed farther into the forest, lungs burning, senses tingling, the earth blurred under me. I could detect the aromas of foxes, deer, faraway pack members wandering the margins. Everything was in perfect order.

Until her fragrance seeped into the atmosphere. fresh, nearby.

My mind sprang up. Elara.

Not yet in the forest, she felt the bond tug powerfully, an awareness warning flare. Hackles rising, my wolf growled low in his chest.

Danger wasn't present right away. But it was nearing.

Keeping downwind, I changed route and returned toward the school. Leaves whispering like secrets, the woodland whispered around me. Something felt not quite right. Beneath the familiar aromas of home, the air had a slight odd flavor.

Rogues. I paused and muscles coiled.

And then I heard it—a too heavy, erratic scratch for any animal that lived here.

I did not stop to think. 

Elara's viewpoint

Staying late was wrong of me.

I realized as soon the studio lights flickered overhead, creating long shadows over the unused area. Gold and red stained the windows as the sun sank quickly, and silence squeezed in around me.

Still, I lacked the ability to leave myself.

Always my hideaway had been the art room. This location calmed my head when it got too noisy. Charcoal dust on my fingertips. The scent of vintage wood and paint. Known, stabilizing.

Still, even that was insufficient today.

Heart beating, I prepared my easel and watched at the empty canvas. Gray eyes, a nocturnal forest, the heat of a kiss that refused to fade all throng uninvited in my thoughts.

I picked up the brush, then halted.

Through the opened window came a sound. Low. Rough.

I lost my breath.

It sounded like... growling.

I said it was only an animal. After all, the forest pressed right up against the school grounds. Occasionally, coyotes could roam around towns.

Still, my skin prickled.

Once again, closer this time, the growl came before a sudden burst like splitting wood.

I moved back from the window.

“Hello?” My voice sounded small. No response.

My heart pounded quicker, every beat ringing in my ears. The charged air was heavy, like before a storm. Every intuition screamed at me to go, to run.

Outside, a shadow shifted. Big; quickly.

I gasped, falling backwards as something hit the trees outside the window. Deep and wrathful, there was a growl then followed by a sound I couldn't identify, half scream, half roar.

This was something else rather than a coyote.

I darted for the door and grabbed my bag. It exploded open before I got there.

I screamed.

Adrian's Point of View

Younger than me, lean and desperate, the rogue's eyes were blazing with insanity and hunger. Pursuing something he had no entitlement to smell, he had entered my area.

My friend.

He dove.

I confronted him directly.

The trees shook as we slammed teeth and claws flashing. He battled unfairly, snapping and slashing, yet dread caused him to be sloppy. I growled a warning shaking the ground under us as I drove him back. Departure.

He paid no attention.

Rage burst white-hot. I restrained him, jaws closing around his neck just hard enough to remind him who governed this realm.

Then, a scream. Elara's.

The link caught fire.

I let out the rogue and pivoted, running toward the noise; every sense screamed protect. The cowardice ultimately prevailed as the renegade ran in the other way.

I didn't run after him. Her alone counted.

From Elara's perspective,

In the hall, I collided with him.

Solid. Warm. Fixed.

Before I could strike the floor, strong arms caught me.

"Elara," a familiar voice said urgently. "Are you wounded?"

Mr. Thorne. No, Adrian.

My knees quivered as I clung to him without thinking, fingers burrowing into his coat. "Something was beyond."

"I know," he responded softly.

His grasp grew strong, defensive, certain. Though my heart crashed against my ribs, I felt secure—for the first time since the rumbling began.

He recoiled only enough to turn to face me, his eyes scanning my face with a force that caused my breathing to stutter.

"You shouldn't be here alone," he remarked.

"I didn't believe..." “Know.”

Like he understood far more than I had said, the words carried weight.

A noise outside—a far-off scream—sent chills through me.

Adrian tightened up. “You must return home,” he ordered precisely. "Now."

"What regarding—" I'll get it taken care of.

Something in his tone broached no discussion.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “All right.”

With a predatory intensity, he walked me to the doorway and scanned the shadows. Charged, dangerous, alive: The air around him felt different now.

I stopped outside. “Mr. Thorne?

He stopped. I said, "Thank you."

The planet went very still for a heartbeat.

He murmured, "You're welcome."

Then he turned and went back into the building.

Mark phoned me twelve times that night. I was mute.

Rather, I stood staring out at the darkened woodland past my home from my bedroom window. The moon was ascending, full and bright, giving the trees a silver illumination. 

My heart beat faster the longer I looked.

Somewhere out there, something ancient and powerful roamed the woods.

And somehow, impossibly, I knew it was watching over me.