Chapter 38: The Rogues

Hecate POV

The rogue den was unlike anything I had ever seen.

It was carved into the side of a hill, a gaping mouth of stone and shadow that reeked of blood and old meat. Torches flickered along the walls, their smoke curling toward a ceiling lost in darkness.

Bones littered the floor. Animal bones, mostly. But I did not want to look too closely at the ones that were not.

Maddox walked beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, his hand never straying far from the blade at his hip. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the barely contained violence humming beneath his skin.

He was moments away from shifting. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered gold, in the way his canines pressed against his lower lip.

We stopped before a throne made of antlers and fur.

The man who sat upon it was enormous, broad shouldered and barrel chested, with a beard that hung down to his chest and eyes the color of rust. His name was Malakar, and everything about him suggested cruelty.

The scars on his knuckles. The way he smiled, too wide, too sharp. The casual indifference with which he looked at us, as if we were insects that had wandered into his web.

"So," Malakar said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the stone walls. "The great King Maddox. I expected someone more frightening."

Maddox did not react. His expression remained neutral, almost bored. But I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

"Believe me," Maddox said, his voice soft, deadly calm. "You do not want to see my frightening side."

Malakar's smile faltered. Just for a moment. Something flickered in his rust colored eyes. Fear, perhaps. Or caution. He recovered quickly, leaning back on his throne and spreading his arms wide.

"You are in my territory now, king. Your reputation means nothing here."

"It means I have killed things far worse than you."

The rogue leader's jaw tightened. He looked away first, turning his gaze to me. His eyes traveled over my face, my robes, the pendant at my throat. Assessing. Calculating.

"And who is this? Your witch?"

I said nothing. I only held his gaze, steady and unblinking.

Malakar laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "You have come for the child."

"Where is she?" Maddox demanded.

Malakar snapped his fingers. One of the rogues, a woman with matted hair and yellow eyes, emerged from the shadows. In her arms was Aileen.

My heart stopped.

The girl was pale, her lips tinged with blue, her dark hair tangled and wet. But her eyes were open. She was alive. She was looking at me.

"Healer," she whispered, her voice small and cracked. "Healer, I want my mama."

Relief flooded through me so powerfully that my knees almost buckled. She was alive. Cold and frightened, but alive. Not injured. Not torn apart by the creatures that surrounded her.

"Let her go," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "She is a child. She has done nothing to you."

Malakar shrugged. "We found her. In our territory. That makes her ours."

"She is a member of the Emberclaw Pack. She is under the protection of its king." Maddox stepped forward, his hand closing around the hilt of his sword. "You will return her to us. Now."

Malakar's lips curled. "Everything has a price, king. What are you willing to pay?"

"What do you want?"

"Your crown." Malakar laughed, and his pack joined him, a chorus of harsh, barking sounds that scraped against my ears. "Imagine it. The great King Maddox, kneeling before me, handing over his crown like a dog surrendering a bone."

The laughter grew louder. Some of the rogues were slapping their knees, their eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Maddox did not laugh. Neither did I.

We had been planning this since the moment we entered the den. Through the mindlink, he and I had been communicating, weaving a strategy while the rogues preened and mocked. He would attack. I would shield. He would draw their attention. I would take the child.

It was simple. It was dangerous. It was our only chance.

Malakar was still laughing when Maddox moved.

The king exploded forward, his body shifting mid stride. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. Dark fur erupted across his skin. By the time he reached the first rogue, he was no longer a man. He was the wolf. The monster. The beast that had haunted the stories of every pack for three years.

He tore into them with a ferocity that made even Malakar flinch.

I did not wait.

I raised my hands and spoke the words of the freezing spell, the old language rolling off my tongue like water over stones. Power surged through my veins, hot and bright, and shot from my fingers in a wave of silver light.

The woman holding Aileen went stiff. Her arms locked around the child, frozen mid motion, her yellow eyes wide with confusion and fear.

I ran.

My robes whipped around my legs as I crossed the distance between us. I pried Aileen from the woman's frozen grip and pulled her against my chest. The girl was so cold, so small, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"I have you," I whispered against her hair. "I have you, little one. You are safe now."

Behind me, Maddox was a whirlwind of fur and fangs. Rogues fell beneath his claws, their screams echoing off the stone walls. Blood sprayed across the floor, across the antler throne, across Malakar's face.

The rogue leader scrambled backward, his bravado gone, his eyes wide with terror. He had wanted to see the king's frightening side. Now he was seeing it. And he was running.

Maddox did not chase him. He had what he came for.

He turned to me, his crimson eyes finding mine through the chaos. His muzzle was slick with blood. His chest heaved with exertion. But beneath the beast, I saw him. Maddox. The man who had held me on the worktable. The man who had ridden through a storm to save a child who was not his own.

Go, he said through the mindlink. I will cover you.

I did not argue.

I ran toward the entrance of the den, Aileen clutched against my chest. The cold hit me like a wall when I burst outside, but I did not stop. I kept running, my boots slipping on the snow, my arms aching, my lungs burning.

Maddox emerged behind me, shifting back to his human form as he ran. His skin was bare, streaked with blood and snow, but he did not seem to feel the cold. He reached the horses in three strides and swung onto his stallion.

"Give her to me," he said, reaching down.

I lifted Aileen into his arms. The girl whimpered but did not wake. Maddox settled her against his chest, wrapping his cloak around her small body.

Then he held out his hand to me.

I took it.

He pulled me onto the stallion behind him, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing myself against his back. The mare would have to find her own way home.

We rode.

The forest blurred past us, a smear of white and brown and grey. The wind whipped my hair across my face. My fingers were numb where they clutched Maddox's shirt. But I held on.

Behind us, I heard howls. Angry. Hungry. The rogues were regrouping. They would come after us.

But they would not catch us.

We rode hard and fast, leaving the rogue den behind, leaving the blood and the bones and the shadows. Aileen slept between us, small and fragile and alive.

And we did not look back.