Semua Bab Claimed By The Rogue Lycan King: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Kael’s Point Of ViewThe wind hit me the moment I stepped out of that cursed hall. Cold. Sharp. Perfect. I welcomed it like an old friend. Behind me, the heavy oak doors of the council chamber creaked shut with the weight of silent fear and shattered pride.I smirked to myself, rolling my shoulders, flexing my sore knuckles as I descended the wide stone steps.Cowards. All bark. No bite.But still… a part of me wanted them to try. To lunge. To claw. To fight dirty. To give me a reason. I could practically taste the violence on my tongue, sharp like the metallic tang of blood after a good fight.And then he spoke up, voice curling in my head like smoke, deep and ancient.Fenrir.“That’s because they will make a move,” my wolf rumbled, voice edged in centuries of battle-worn wisdom. “Soon enough. You know that. They never listen.”I chuckled low under my breath, boots crunching against gravel as I veered off the path and into the dense treeline. My hands curled into fists, itching for a

Ayla’s Point Of ViewOne of them stepped closer.The lead one.Its lips peeled back in a twisted mockery of a grin, black gums and broken fangs glinting like a nightmare in the low, gray light of dawn.But then, it shifted.Bones cracked, fur receded, sinew pulled tight beneath rippling flesh as the monstrous form shrank down to a man—barefoot, filthy, scars littering his pale, sun-starved body. His hair was patchy, wild, hanging in dirty knots over hollow, crazed eyes.But his smile, It was worse than his wolf form. It was human. Smug. Sickening.“Well, what do we have here?” he rasped, voice gravelly, like rocks grinding together. His teeth, still sharp flashed beneath cracked lips. “Looks fresh. Pretty. Haven’t tasted something this clean in a long time.”Laughter echoed behind him. The others shifted too, forming a twisted, malformed pack of half-starved men, bones jutting beneath skin, madness dancing behind yellowing eyes.They were circling closer now.Closer.The leader crouch

Kael’s Point Of View“And what if I don’t?” the idiot snarled, lifting his chin like that was going to save him. His voice cracked slightly at the edges, but he thought defiance could hide that trembling beneath his skin. Brave little fool.“What if I take her right in front of you?”I just stood there. Stared at him. And then, I smiled. Slow. Sharp. Not the kind of smile a man gives when he’s amused. The kind of smile a wolf gives before ripping out a throat. Finally. I tilted my head slightly to the side like I was studying something pathetic.“Then,” I murmured, voice like silk pulled across broken glass, “you get to die first.”Should’ve been enough.Should’ve been plenty.But no. Pride makes men stupid. Makes them run toward the knife thinking they’ll catch it before it carves through them. The two braver rogues lunged first. Good.I was getting restless.The first one came at me with a blade, sloppy, desperate, wide swing like he was cutting wheat, not bone. I sidestepped, grabb

Kael’s Point Of ViewHer bare foot twitched. Lifted. Almost fell back.But then, slowly she placed it forward. Bare sole pressing into the mud, delicate, shaking, leaving a faint smear of blood against the wet leaves.Another step.And another.Every inch of her trembling. Breathing too fast. Chest rising and falling like she was fighting something inside of her harder than any rogue or blade or nightmare.But she moved.Toward me. Not because I’d dragged her. Because she chose. “I’ll follow you” And that choice, damn, that felt like something that mattered more than it should’ve.I stared down at her, that sharp little chin lifting stubbornly even with the terror glistening in her eyes, lips parted on shaky breaths.“Good girl,” I murmured, the words sliding off my tongue like sin wrapped in velvet. “Knew you were smarter than you looked.” Her glare could’ve peeled bark from trees, and gods, it was beautiful.Mine.All of her wildness, her defiance, her terror, I’d take it all. And s

Kael’s Point Of View‘Riven. Where are they?’His response came instantly, fury simmering under every word. ‘Dark dungeon. They’re waiting.’Good.I was already moving, door slamming behind me, fists clenching as I stalked toward the stairs. It was time to remind every last bastard in my territory what happened when someone laid a hand on what was mine.**********The stone steps groaned beneath my boots as I descended into the underbelly of the pack’s old stronghold, down into the dungeon carved before my reign, but sharpened under it. Torches lined the walls, sputtering like dying lungs, casting trembling shadows over blood-stained bricks and rusted iron.The stench hit first. Thick. Putrid. Sweat, piss, blood, and the sour tang of fear.It was beautiful.Riven stood waiting at the bottom, arms folded, one boot braced casually against the wall like this was nothing more than morning tea. His eyes flicked to mine, hard, sharp. Ready. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. I nodded once.