Tyler’s plan is far more complicated than mine. He is going to call our neighboring packs to ask for assistance in fighting the rogues. His goal is to be able to join forces and wipe out all of the rogues in the surrounding area. "Alright. Thank you. See you soon," Tyler says. The phone clacks as he returns it to the receiver. He sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand. "How did it go?" I ask. "Pretty well," Tyler replies. "Five out of the seven packs agreed to meet with us to discuss our plan." "Why did two of the packs refuse?" "The one is at odds with our pack. We have disagreed many times in the past and they are refusing to cooperate once again. The other wants nothing to do with the rogues. Their alpha believes that helping us will increase the attacks against them," he explains. "That's stupid," I comment. "The rogues will probably attack them anyway. Their best bet is to work with us to prepare for that." "I agree, but they made the

Alpha Roman closes the distance between us quickly. I watch for his movements to signal his first attack. Sure enough, his right arm tenses and draws back. I duck to the side only to watch as his fist flies through the area where my head was. Alpha Roman lurches forward as his momentum carries him further than he thought. Taking advantage of this lack of balance, I place a hand against his back and push him away from me. The alpha stumbles forward several steps. I back away from my opponent as he slowly turns around to face me. Alpha Roman’s face is a mask of fury. His eyebrows are drawn together into a frown and one corner of his lips is pulled up into a snarl. His eye twitches as he stalks forward. Whoopsie daisy. I must have injured the unnecessarily large pride that alphas like him have. Alpha Roman closes the distance between us once more and throws a left hook. I dodge it, only to see his leg flying towards my face. He had faked the punch in order to get close en

“It all started when I was eight,” Clay begins. He leans against the stone wall across from me and folds his arms. “My parents decided to begin successor training for my brother and I. Being the eldest twin, I believed that I alone would be trained to become alpha. It is my birthright, after all. However, my parents believed that the twin who showed greater promise as a ‘leader’ would step into the position of alpha while the other brother supported him.” Clay leans his head back against the wall. “During the main classes we displayed our aptitude for different skills. My brother was good at written skills, so his grades were always the best. He read books all of the time and my parents always praised him for his great ideas. I, on the other hand, specialized in physical skills. Where my brother was good at reading, I was good at fighting. My parents didn’t appreciate this whatsoever. They always complained that my grades were too low and that I should focus more on studying

The feeling of something hitting my leg jolts me back to consciousness. I jerk my head upright and look around me. When I closed my eyes earlier, I must have fallen back asleep. Now, three men stand above me. They all have black hair and sunken eyes. The horrible stench that fills the air around them tells me that they are rogues. The one kicking me stops when he sees that I am awake. "Finally," he grumbles. "Boss said to feed you before we move." As he finishes speaking, one of the other men drops a plate wrapped in cling film on the ground in front of me. "Hurry up and eat, we leave in ten minutes," the first man informs me. As the three turn to leave I clear my throat. "I can't eat with my hands secured behind my back," I state. The three growl, but one comes over to loosen the chain around my hands. The slack allows me to slip my arms under my butt. I ease them slowly as I feel the tight pull of my muscles threatening to dislocate my shoulder at the slightest

The tent flap swooshes quietly as it falls into place behind me. I can’t see anyone nearby, but remain on high alert. If I encounter just one guard, I may never make it out of the camp. That guard could send out a warning that I have escaped and the fact that I am carrying Clay’s body would only make it worse. I peek around the right corner of the tent. Nobody. Coast is clear. I move quickly along the side of the tent. Clay’s tent appears to be at the center of the camp and is given a pretty wide berth by the other tents. Hearing voices, I slip into a narrow corridor between the tents that border Clay’s. The rustle of his body brushing against the canvas nearly makes my heart stop. The sound seemed so loud that I thought I would be caught for sure. Thankfully, the men don’t notice and just walk past, not even glancing in my direction. According to the map, Clay doesn’t have personal guards at his tent, but prefers to have them in a wide circle around his tent and his genera