Rogue Hero Season 2 Novels & Stories

A rogue broke from the shadows behind him. Fast. Silent. Corrupted. Its claws already raised. Already aiming. At my son. “No—!” The world shattered. Instinct overrode everything else. I let go. I turned. I moved. Faster than I ever had. Faster than thought. Faster than rage. Because nothing— Nothing— Mattered more than him. The rogue lunged. I intercepted. My claws tore through its body mid-strike, ripping it apart before it could even touch him.

To patients. A young warrior, his arm bandaged thickly, stiffened when he saw me. I knelt beside his bed without hesitation. “You fought bravely,” I told him. “But bravery doesn’t mean you heal alone.” His eyes filled, and he nodded. Rogue recently attacked the Red moon pack. He is one of the warriors that fight. By the time I left, exhaustion settled deep into my bones, but it was the satisfying kind. The kind that came from purpose. Damon, the warrior assigned by the elders to accompany me, remained quiet as we returned to the palace. He observed everything, reporting nothing aloud. A watcher. A judge.

The rush of power flowed through me like fire in my veins, and Declan hit the ground running, paws digging into the dirt as I sprinted toward the wreckage. Two rogues were moving around her car which had been flipped upside down. Declan bared his teeth, his growl rumbling deep in my chest. He launched himself at the first one, tackling him with all the force I could muster. His jaws closed around the rogue’s neck, and with a savage twist, I heard the satisfying snap of bones. The rogue crumpled to the ground, lifeless, but there was no time to bask in the victory. The second rogue turned on us, eyes wild with desperation. He lunged at us, but Declan was faster, and met him mid-air. His claws

This is like a mob visit. "You wish you could handle me. Besides, I don't like weak, frail, and disgusting old men. They don't have enough backbone for a ROGUE like me! " I growl, my grey blue eyes glowing with purple flakes. I yelled through the door. I knew challenging his manhood and telling him I was a rogue knocking on his packhouse door would draw him out. Stupid Alpha.

"Nothing. The snow doesn't help us at all. When I found his body, he was half-buried under an inch of snow. But I'm willing to bet that this was done by them." By them, Scott meant the rogues and he wasn't wrong. A normal werewolf didn't do this. And while we had it in us to kill humans and devour their bodies, we no longer lived like that. We came a long way for us to be a bel to exist in civilization. We ate normal food and depended on animal hunts. The rogues, however, have been on a killing spree these last few months. And it's not for food. They're killing just for the thrill of it. It doesn't matter if it's humans or werewolves, rogues didn't care about that. There were good ones, yes,

To bad he would not be able to help me escape, he must be loyal to his Alpha or he would be kicked out of the pack and end up turning rogue. Which meant no leader and other packs kill rogue on sight due to their lawlessness and no loyalty. They are like rodents eating your vegetables in the garden. No one liked rogues. Funny enough that is what I was, my brother and parents. We had to leave our pack behind because of Alpha Keeram, many packs feared him. Unfortunately mine was one of them, my Alpha Jake feared him so much so, that he was going to hand me over like a present. That's why we had no other choice but to go rogue and hide.

Marcus roars as he charges the rogue that stood there smirking at him, happy when he saw Marcus's reaction to the wolf he just killed. Marcus charges the rogue, shifting back, and sliding to a stop in front of the rogue. Marcus's partially shifted hand thrusts forward with his claws extended and pierces his hand through the rogue's chest. His hand wraps around the rogue's heart before yanking his hand back and ripping the rogue's heart out. The rogue's eyes widen, horrified before his body falls limp to the ground. .... Xander finds Leo struggling near the Western border, south of the river entrance. Xander quickly makes his way over, plowing into the three rogues that had him pinned.

Atlas’s massive form becomes a wall of fury as he leaps over a fallen pillar to shield me, his claws rending a rogue’s throat in a spray of dark crimson. ​I swing the dagger at a third attacker. Its torso ignites in blinding silver light, the rogue crumpling in a cloud of ash with a dying screech that echoes off the ancient oaks. The dagger’s wrath is lethal, tied directly to my blood—a guardian, just as the visions promised. Aria’s growl is a triumphant blaze that makes my veins sing. ​The remaining rogues hesitate, fear flickering in their compelled, crimson eyes. But then, a low, unnatural horn echoes from the ridges.

It might not be necessary to shift, and it will be much easier to fight if I’m not wearing a dress. As soon as I’m dressed, I step outside and immediately hear a snarl. I turn to the left and there is a brown rogue wolf stalking towards me. You can always identify the rogues because they look mangey and deranged, like a dog who’s been abused and beaten. His fur is filthy, with a few patches missing, and he smells like vulture vomit. The combination of death and decay mixed with the burning, acidic scent of vomit is the worst possible combination.

One of the rogues is coming up behind him with a silver knife. Nyx roars, leaps, and then stands in front of the rogue, growling menacingly. “No one touches my family,” she said darkly. She jumped on the rogue and had him on his back. She wasted no time and ripped his head off. Rodrigo’s maw looked, and his eyes went wide. I turned to look at the area and saw that Rodrigo had the only rogue left alive. Nyx jumped and landed behind the rogue, knocking him unconscious. “That bastard stays alive until we question him,” she ordered.