Fierce Twisted Rogue Novels & Stories

The air was warm and natural, and it seemed as though many had heard, yet none would speak of it as they appeared to have considered it natural. Two days passed since tears had filled eyes and fear had gripped many at their weakest points. And unto the next day, what had happened at night had become a thing of the past as the smiles on faces sprang up out of sorrows of hearts. It seemed as though they had all adapted to the regular torture and torments of a rogued beast as such, evident in the rapid refurbishing of the damaged environments. The phantom's nature was specially chaos, that was knowledge known to all men and child. And its footprints were the massive destruction which could neve

Looking at me with concern, he hissed at me to run, but I shook my head and allowed Morgana to come out. She was a murderous creature with long, inky black hair and corpse-like fingers that ended in razor-sharp claws. My fangs extended from my top lip as my red eyes narrowed at the female lycan and Devan's wolf, Hades. Licking my fangs, I gestured to Isabella to bring it, since I was itching to tear her cocky ass apart. The bitch stepped back, then shook her furry head before she shoved Hades to attack me. “Are you serious? You want me to fight my fated mate, you sick cunt,” I snarled bitterly.

A Rogue. A Rogue is a werewolf without a pack. They often kill any werewolf they encounter; may it be a member of a pack or a similar rogue, like them. They are vicious plunderers. And that same vicious plunderer is right in front of me, deviously smiling. “Others cannot dodge my attack so easily like that. You’re quite good, pup.” He praised me, but I don’t feel good that he did so at all. I’m scared. “W-who are you, Mister?” I tried to sound brave, but aside from stuttering, my voice also cracked.

She reeks of black magic—a Shadow Witch, probably the one who masked the rogues' smell. -"Pin her down." She orders, and four rogues launch at me. I fight them off as each one of them takes one of my paws. I move away from Morgan and manage to bite the jaw of the Rogue to my right; with one single movement, I rip his jaw off his face. A blood pool forms on the floor underneath the butchered animal. More rogues join the unfair fight. Some bite my paws, and others jump on top of me, biting my back. Soon I am crushed down on all the blood and mud by their body weight.

Faster. The Rogue lunged. I intercepted. Its claws raked across my side instead of Irene's back. Pain exploded through my body. Hot and sharp and immediate. Like fire being dragged across my ribs. I twisted. Snapped at the Rogue's throat. Missed. Got a mouthful of shoulder instead. We tumbled across the ground. Snarling and biting and tearing at each other. The Rogue was strong. Desperate. Fighting with the mindless ferocity of a creature with nothing to lose.

Fiona shifted beside me, her wolf sleek and powerful as she barreled into the second rogue, her teeth sinking into its neck with a vicious snarl. The clearing erupted into chaos. Teeth, claws, and fur blurred together as we fought against the rogues, their bloodthirsty growls filling the air. But there was something off about them—something that made them more feral than usual. Their attacks were reckless, desperate, like they were being driven by something beyond their control.

Three to go. Fenris is backing toward me, his rifle empty, switching to his pistol. One rogue circles him, blood matting its fur from multiple gunshot wounds but still moving. These aren’t normal rogues. They’re alpha-level, their bodies absorbing damage that should have dropped them. I charge the one stalking Fenris. It sees me coming and pivots, meeting my attack. We crash together, both of us fighting for dominance. This one is strong—maybe as strong as Lars had been. Its claws rake my side, tearing through fur and flesh. Pain explodes, but I ignore it.

Kai POV The rogues hit like a storm unleashed from the very fog itself. Dozens of them, lean and feral, bursting from the treeline with silver-tipped claws glinting in the dying light. Their eyes glow an unnatural crimson, pupils slit like serpents, dilated with a hunger that’s more curse than instinct. They move with horrifying coordination, darting in pairs and threes, cutting through the mist like arrows aimed straight for Liora. Atlas roars inside me, the sound tearing out of my throat as I shift mid-stride, bones snapping and reforming in a blaze of silver-tipped black fur. I launch myself at the lead rogue, jaws clamping around its throat with bone-crushing force. Hot blood sprays acro

Through our red tinted eyes, the rogue fell to the ground, its intestines pouring at my feet. Moving fast, expertly shielding Freya behind me, Warrick spun around, our claws extended, catching the second rogue across its throat. It stumbled back, its eyes wide with terror before collapsing to the ground, a gurgling sound escaping its lips. The third rogue charged, its fangs bared. We sidestepped its attack, dodging its claws with a swift maneuver. Before it could recover, Warrick delivered a powerful blow to its chest, sending it flying backward. It crashed into a crack just beyond the entrance to the Tombs Of Amyrsthystiase, its body slumping to the ground, motionless.

It squeezed her so hard she could hardly breathe, and as they wrapped around her, twisting, her body also moved and she was now facing the other side, watching the Rogue calmly approach her with earth magic pulsing along its fur. It was hulking as a wolf, and Rhiannon thought she had imagined it the last time in the woods, but now that it was happening again, she was sure....and she froze. The Rogue was smiling. No, it was smirking. A twisted smile that made chills roll down her spine. Could it be that it had a mind of its own? And how on earth was it controlling vines? Rogues are not known to have signatures; they're usually stripped of them by the Moon once they turn wild.