Novel & Cerita Cursed Rogue Tall Tale

Years ago, a witch cast a prophecy over me. She said I was the cursed wolf, an abomination who would bring the pack to ruin. My parents believed it completely. Locked me in the cellar that same night and left me to starve. My older sister, Sia, fought like hell to keep me alive. When the pack came for me, she stood in front of every single one of them, crying as she tried to shield me. "She's not an abomination. She's never hurt anyone." Because of those words, when the Alpha fell for her but still feared me, that so-called abomination, I volunteered for exile. Walked away from the pack forever. Before I left, I gave Sia a charm. Told her, if anyone ever laid a hand on her, just speak into i

I roar. “Mr. I can tell you the story and the legend as I learned it, but also tell you what rumors have gone around the camps,” A young rogue, barely old enough to be away from her mother’s side, let alone shifting and fighting says. If she didn’t smell like garbage, this rogue might be attractive, she is built like My Little Mouse, but with brown hair and eyes and a dirt crusted face. “Tell me about it, girl!” I order. The girl reiterates the story with only minor differences…several stand out to me.

The urge to end him then and there tempted me but I resisted, I needed answers not blood. “You fools will never get anything out of me, I swear by the moon goddess,” the rogue coughed up more blood as he spoke. Gareth growled, he dipped his fingers into the rogue’s side, forcing him to let out another scream. “You will regard my alpha with respect, you hear me?” I let out a defeated sigh, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to spill anything. He is a rogue, and what they do, take the smallest of secrets to their grave with them because they basically have nothing to lose.

This was the kind of knowledge I had never had access to before. The lecturer continued, diving into stories of legendary wolves. "There was Kaelen of the Stormfangs, capable of summoning lightning in battle. Selene of the Whitecrest Clan, believed to be the most beautiful wolf to ever live, with fur that glowed under moonlight. And, of course, Fenrik the Cursed, whose betrayal of the Goddess led to the creation of the first rogues." I shifted at the word rogues. "Rogues," the lecturer said gravely, "are not simply wolves without a pack. Many are born from darkness itself, either cursed, exiled, or corrupted by bloodlust. The worst of them are touched by... something older than even our kind

The dagger feels alive in my hand, its ruby flaring as if sensing the threat. The first rogue bursts from the fog—a massive grey wolf, eyes mad with shadow corruption, silver-tipped claws extended. More follow, snarls ripping through the mist, their scents rancid with witch magic and desperation. They’re not just rogues—they’re cursed, twisted by the same shadow beast that hunts my bloodline.

She’d taken them down so expertly that I wondered how she got into the situation in the first place, how they’d managed to ambush her. I thought about stories I’d heard about rogues. There were known to wreak havoc among packs. If she was a typical rogue then I could see how that would be. No wonder pack leaders usually hated them. So much so that if an alpha or luna crossed paths with one, their first instinct would be to kill. I thought about what this meant for my mate, and how my mother would take it. Would my mother try to kill my mate? Of course, I couldn’t let anything happen to her.

Three words stood out among the scrawled, decaying text: Rogue. Curse. Blood debt. "Rogue werewolves," Frank said, his voice low and almost reverent. "Wolves cast out from their packs. They become something... darker. They’re cursed, Elliot. The town used to be filled with them." The howl from that night echoed in my memory. “You’re saying,” I began carefully, “that these… rogues are behind the recent sightings?” Could that creature in the woods be one of them? “You’re saying,” I began carefully, “that these… rogues are behind the recent sightings?”

Out. “What is happening?” Someone asked loudly in a voice that betrayed his panic. Above the chaos, I heard my father’s words clearly. “That is the first sign of a rogue, and the main reason why I’m very glad to give her up as a treaty offer. Terri Casper has gone rogue.” He announced. Fuck. I’d given him exactly what he wanted. A proof to sentence me publicly. Seducing another werewolf’s mate wasn’t enough reason to send me to Errendor. But going rogue, was.

A shiver travelled through my down my back. "That's about the same time the attacks started getting worse," he told me. "Why do you think you're a rogue? Do you even know what they are?" I felt the tears burn the back of my eyes as I knotted my fingers together in my lap. "My old pack told me that the only title I'd ever be worthy of is a rogue." "You're nothing like the rogue werewolves." Hunt sounded so reassuring and when I looked at him, his eyes were warm and kind.

And I release my hold. Shifting to my massive dark furred beast, I get to the first house and break the door as I run through it with my shoulder. In between the smokey house, I spot three rogues, Balthazar's rogues, cackling as they surround an helpless woman. One of them ripping her dress. The first rogue I encounter doesn't have time to react, his back is turned towards me. The moment he turns to face me, no doubt feeling my presence, my jaw locks in on his head, crunching it.