Rogue Empire Novels & Stories

I announce to them. And it feels ridiculous to say it out loud, but I don't know what else to say. The Rogues are gone. Cole is gone. The entire situation inside the Gala has been left behind, and yet I know that the moment we return, every single person there will want to know what happened to me, and that thought alone makes my stomach tighten. Alaric doesn't seem satisfied with my answer. "Warriors, follow them, capture the Rogue King and take as many captives as you can," he orders sharply as he turns to face his people behind him.

If it were before she would have been happy and would have started making plans to push them away further but now she just felt sorry for Damien. Far away, deep within the jagged borders of the rogue territory, the atmosphere was entirely different. There was no emotional grief here, only the cold, unyielding precision of an incoming tide. Inside the sprawling stone hall of the rogue stronghold, a massive map of the territories was laid across a heavy iron table. The Rogue King stood over it, a piece of charcoal balanced between his scarred fingers. He traced a line connecting the western perimeter of Shadowfang to the neutral territories.

But the urge to comprehend, to snag some fragment of honesty in this tangle of deceit, was overpowering. …geared for his entry,” Ethan was stating, his tone a hushed, authoritative boom. “No shocks.” “The border’s locked. The crew’s on edge. He won’t spot any flaw here,” Marcus answered, his pitch curt, official. “Make sure he doesn’t,” Ethan shot back, a strand of something shadowy in his words. “The Rogue Alpha Emperor’s verdict is final. One slip, and all we’ve forged falls.” The Rogue Alpha Emperor. The label struck like a real hit, stealing the wind from my chest. It was a trigger, unlocking a musty nook of my recall. The assault evening. The wolf, its talons sinking into my limb, its r

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.

His gaze holds mine for several seconds before he looks down at his drink. I chew the inside of my cheek while wondering if I should start asking him questions about his time as the King of the Rogues. Everyone knows the history, of course. The Roguelands was… nothing back then. A deep, dark forest. Dark enough to hide in. Dark enough to disappear in. He gathered an army there out of misfits, bandits, and slaves. He ruled as king when there wasn’t anyone to rule. He overthrew an evil regime with forces whose training was nothing more than a life of survival in the same forest I’ve called home for so long. He understands. He’s still the king there, in some shape or form… at least, until Maeve

Thanks to the condition that the late late late late king, the war towards the wolves and rogues comes to an end. The Rogues were also able to build a small town of two hundred wolves. They may be small, but don't underestimate them; each Rogue can fight five Kingdom warriors. They are so powerful that their god granted them a blessing as well. Esmeth's sister also blessed the kingdom's people so that they could fight them. Making the two races engage in an endless war.

Zack studied me, his expression hard but he didn’t push. I looked back at the map stretched across the table. Two strong packs gone in just days, territories claimed and survivors enslaved. The rogues weren’t just building an army anymore.They were carving out an empire. And every step they took brought them closer to Moonclaw.

“And of course, you don’t want to mark me because you don’t want to take your throne back.” “I don’t know what I want to do yet. I have no support. No army. It’s not that easy.” “What about these rogues Monty spoke about? What is a rogue anyway?” “A rogue is a packless wolf. It’s not that easy. Rogues aren’t warriors. By the time I have them trained and ready for a war, Caspian would know and we’d all be dead. Well, not you and me…we’d only wish we were dead.”

The modest healer who spoke little and never let anyone too close. Until the twin Alphas of Red mountain stumbled into my sanctuary. They were legends even before they crashed through the vines and broken marble columns. Kain and Darius. Twin terrors of the largest pack in the northern wastes. Cursed by the old gods never to find a mate, doomed to rule without softness, without release, their rutting reduced to brutal, empty conquests. I smelled their power before I saw them—dark pine, smoke, and raw, frustrated testosterone that made my hidden cock twitch traitorously beneath my gown.

the rogue begged me, his voice cracking. "Please! Because the hunter possesses the silver gun that could kill me!” I stared down at him, my stomach turning in disgust. I refused, trying to kick his hands away from my legs. "Let go of me, you monster. I won't help you." The rogue’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging painfully into my skin. His face twisted into a wicked, desperate snarl. "If you don't help me, the silver gun can kill you too, girl! Don't you get it? I know what you are. You are an Empress, forbidden amongst wolves. If he catches me, I will tell Herth who you are, and we will both die!"