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Lahat ng Kabanata ng Fated To The Rogue Alpha:Awakening Of The Rejected Tribrid : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

98 Kabanata

Stay!

Camille — Inner Deepening Camille stood quietly behind the pack hall, hands clasped before her, pretending to simply watch Vikron speak, but inside, her mind churned. He’d thrown her old phone away so casually, so decisively, as though he had every right to sever her from the rest of the world. *And the terrifying part?* A small, traitorous corner of her chest… felt relieved. Safe. *Stop it. Don’t start depending on anyone again.* Yet watching him command his pack—seeing the way hundreds bowed their heads without hesitation, she couldn’t deny the truth: Vikron’s authority wasn’t loud. It was carved into the air. Solid. Grounded. Unshakeable. *Everything Sigewuf had pretended to be.* A tap hit her shoulder, hard enough to send a flare of annoyance up her spine. She turned. Skyla. Camille straightened instinctively. Skyla’s stare combed over her like she was something stuck beneath her boots. “You’re standing in my way. Move.” Camille bit back an incredulous laugh. Skyla had

New Beginning

She didn’t make any friends. Just Josh—mostly because he belonged to Varendolf and attended the academy too. He was two years ahead of her, yet he still carved out moments to see her between classes. Vikron didn’t like it one bit. Camille felt it every time Josh came near her. But he wouldn't stop everyone from talking to her… even if he wanted to...even if he could. Camille barely registered the body she collided with until a cold, high-pitched scoff cut the air. “Oh. . .sorry. . .” The apology died on her tongue as she looked up. “Oh, of course,” Leonora said, voice dripping sugar and poison in equal measure. “It would be you.” Camille looked up to see Leonora Rosenmund, standing like the hallway belonged to her alone. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect cruelty in her eyes. Her two minions flanked her like trained shadows. “Not today,” Camille hissed, rolling her eyes with annoyance. Camille swallowed. Of all the people she hadn’t missed from the WhiteMoon pack, Leonora R

New Beginning ||

Her phone rang. “Excuse me, I have to take this,” Camille said, picking up. “You’re late,” Vikron’s voice cut through the line, low, sharp, unmistakably displeased. “Where are you?” He had already called the mansion. She wasn’t there. “I had a little challenge, but I’m on my way now,” she replied. Vikron’s jaw tightened audibly. “Where are you?” He knew. Of course, he knew. He was watching her from the black Maybach as Demuel drove, eyes never leaving her. “In the bus, on my way back,” Camille answered carefully. She wouldn’t tell him Josh was with her—not yet. She wasn’t ready for another jealous episode. A tense silence followed. The bus slowed. “Get down at the next stop.” He didn’t explain. Didn’t repeat himself. Didn’t hang up. He waited, listening to how fast she was breathing. “What? But I’m not even close to Varendolf yet,” she protested. Another silence. Then she muttered something before clicking the call off. “Who was that?” Josh asked. She couldn’t tell him.

Bad News

Sigewuf held the iPad in his hand. The dark witches were asking for something he couldn't give them; immunity. A place among the districts. He couldn't do that. Then the door of the study opened, and the scent of her cologne filled his nose. He didn't lift up his head to acknowledge her presence. "I didn’t send for you," Sigewuf said the moment Leonora smiled, as the door clicked shut behind her. Shed had left the southern district to give him this piece of information—something to make him smile, lift his mood. Being the Lycan Alpha’s sex toy had once been enough of a flex, but now she craved more. She had fallen for him—his cruelty, his dominance, the cold darkness he wore like a crown. Conrad owned a piece of her, but nothing compared to how she felt for Alpha Sigewuf. Leonora stepped closer and stopped behind his chair, deliberately letting her scent wash over him. Her lashes lowered, eyes sultry with seduction as she slipped a hand through the open space in his shirt, her

Impossible

Camille didn’t stop running until she had put a good distance between herself and the pack house, between herself and Josh, and whatever in the Moon’s name had just happened back there. Her breathing came in ragged bursts, heart slamming violently against her ribs. She couldn’t explain this madness—this surge of shock waves rippling through her legs, the blaze in her eyes whenever that strange white light flashed. She had even gone as far as searching the lycanthropy forums for something… anything. Nothing. Not a single clue. She had planned on keeping it to herself but Josh and his constant watch! Camille blinked hard, trying to shove the thoughts away. She didn’t have powers. She was wolfless. Ordinary. …Except she wasn’t. Not really. Not when every test, every full-moon assessment had confirmed the same thing: Twenty-one. Still wolfless. Still… wrong. A sigh slipped past her lips, just as a familiar black car rolled slowly to a stop near the bus station. She felt her stom

Revenege

SEVEN YEARS AGO! "How does it feel to be a rogue?" Sigewuf sneered, looming over Vikron's bloodied frame sprawled on the floor just outside of Darkstar's border, blood slicked the corners of his mouth.. Vikron couldn’t speak. His parched throat felt like one more word would push him straight into unconsciousness. "I could spare your life," Sigewuf murmured, crouching lower to grab a fistful of Vikron’s hair, "if you’d just beg." The sting of betrayal suffocated Vikron more than the pain. His own brother—his blood, had turned on him. Lied. Framed him. Presented fabricated evidence to Ultima Rawson and the rest of the pack leaders. Vikron searched for a reason but nothing connected. Nothing made sense. "Why?" he rasped. It was all he had strength for. A tear slid unnoticed down his bruised, blood-crusted cheek. Bones shifted painfully when he breathed; some were broken, others dislocated. He was bleeding inside. Dying slowly. He didn’t even try to move. Sigewuf let out a jagged la

Impossible ||

"She's your daughter. You have to find her!" Rosalind shrieked. Behind her mask of practised helplessness, her eyes shone with something far less innocent. "She's your daughter too." Conrad’s voice was laced with disgust as he glared at her. She was his mother, yes, but he could see the truth behind that façade: the false submissiveness, the feigned loyalty, the quiet manipulation that shaped every word leaving her lips. "Oh, shut up." Rosalind rolled her eyes, dismissing his existence with a flick of her hand. "I think Mother’s right," Devon said quietly from the far corner, legs crossed elegantly, his gaze lingering on everyone… and no one. "You always think everything she says is right," Conrad snapped, the mockery in his voice echoing off the walls. Devon didn’t respond. Didn’t rise to it. He watched, serene, collected; dangerously unreadable. "It is her husband’s duty to look for her. To keep her safe. We cannot interfere anymore," Alpha Loeka said, voice strained. Conr

Grief

Slamming the door behind her, Camille slid down against it, her back hitting the wood as her training bag thudded onto the floor. Her hands were visibly shaking—cold, pale, still feeling the phantom pressure of Josh’s palm clamping over her mouth, stifling the scream clawing its way up her throat. Josh was insane. He was trying to plant those thoughts in her head—those dangerous, impossible thoughts. She wouldn't let him. She couldn't. A sharp knock on the door sent her pulse skyrocketing. She jerked upright, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out her breath. “Camille?” Beta Demuel’s voice came through. She froze, staring at the door, her whole body locked with panic. Another knock. Harder. A jolt of fear shot through her. Had he seen us outside? Had he seen Josh? Did Beta Demuel know? “Y-yeah…” Her voice trembled. “I’m here.” “Are you okay?” The doorknob was already turning. She forced a smile onto her face; thin, brittle, as the door opened. Demuel stepped in, concern

Alpha's Dance

The pack’s bonfire glowed across the beach. Camille hadn’t asked Alpha Vikron who the man in the hospital was, or why he’d been filled with such blinding rage that day after they returned. She could still see the shadow in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. She wasn’t going to pry—if he wanted to share, he would. Respecting boundaries was common sense. Camille’s fingers brushed the inside of her wrist, the place his hand had curled around at the hospital. The warmth of his touch still lingered, sending a shiver spiraling up her arm. "I need you." Those words had echoed in her mind since he said them. What did he mean? What exactly did he need her for? Her fingertip traced the warmed skin again, and a soft, embarrassing flush crept up her neck. “Seeing the way your cheeks are burning, you’re probably thinking about me.” Vikron’s voice came from behind her, so quiet she almost missed it. She jolted to her feet, suddenly hyperaware of the loud music, the rhythmic drumbe

Who Are You?

The bonfire crackled faintly in the distance. The pack’s cheers and howling shifted into something wild and celebratory faded behind them. But Vikron didn’t wait for congratulations. Right now, there was only Camille. And the quiet. The moment the final beat dissolved into something slow, he took her hand—firm, certain, and guided her away from the circle. Away from Skyla's murderous glare and the stunned whispers of some pack members He didn’t look back. He didn’t explain. Vikron didn’t release her hand until they were far enough that the light from the bonfire no longer touched them. Camille wasn’t used to this kind of public announcement. And it had nothing to do with shyness—she simply preferred her life private. Camille breathed out, steadying the thrum inside her chest. “I thought who I was to you was supposed to be a secret.”she said, pushing her toes into the sand “I didn’t say anything.” he replied softly. “You didn’t have to say anything.You showed plenty,” she

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