Rogue Squadron Novels Novels & Stories

But soon, the stench of rogues hit me before I saw them, rank, sour, like rot. Their den was carved into a hillside, and they had a huge population. But I didn’t hesitate. I could defeat a million of them. “Rip them apart!” I roared, charging forward. The fight exploded like thunder. Rogues poured out, teeth snapping, blades flashing. I met the first head-on, slashing his throat clean, blood spraying across my chest. My warriors tore into them like fire through dry grass. “Conrad!” I shouted, even as I gutted another rogue.

“I meant no offence. It’s just we can’t be too careful with outsiders these days. I’m sure you’re aware of the inflated rogue problem since the war.” “Right…,” I said. “Those… damn devil rogues.” The man spat on the ground. “Good riddance. Best damn thing Ashwood ever did was create those suppressors. Your father is a hero.” The book had mentioned something about the rogues, this being the issue I assumed he was referring to. After the war, the unranked who didn’t repent for their loyalty to the Silver Mist were condemned to live the life of a rogue. Given the size of the pack, this created a rather large shift in the prior population.

The brick-red Alpha rogue hissed with his eyes glaring at me. “Now tell me, what did they do while living in my pack? Some of them have even lived here for years!” I clawed the faces of the two Alpha rogues furiously. “Don’t blame us for being suspicious of them.” After that, the war began. Our warrior troops could no longer control themselves. They went on a rampage and ignored their dying or dead opponents. My warrior troops knew that they were not prohibited from killing or maiming rogues and rogue assassins.

As he screams out, I drive the dagger into his chest and he falls to the ground. In general, rogues are weaker than wolves that belong to a pack. They don't have the strength that comes from the unity of being in a pack. Wolves are social creatures, and their wolves weaken significantly without that bond to an Alpha. Many rogues are on their own for years before they join other rogues, so they weaken a great deal. However, just because these rogues are weaker, they have the upper hand right now. With just four more to go, I can feel my body becoming sluggish. All my energy sources have been depleted in the last five weeks and I'm just running on pure adrenaline at this point.

The scenery couldn’t be worst, the gold diggers transform themselves and two others drew knives, coming to us, enraged, by listening Geffrey say: “They are looters, they came to steal your gold, attack them.” Uncle Ronan turns his head back his appearance distorted and howls, transforming himself in a gray scary mortal wolf, going after Geffrey who was running down the road. The bullets whirred everywhere and the gold diggers grouped themselves to attack us. Far away, uncle Quinn enters a knife fight with two gold diggers, hitting them not giving a chance to escape, but the other is able to sink a knife in his thigh. When getting ready for a second blow on uncle Quinn’s ribs, Adam hits him w

His Wolf growled angrily, the sound rocking his brain before it fell silent. "Ask your questions." He told her more coldly than he intended. Amira raised a brow at him, adjusting the skirt of her dress as she folded her legs over one another. "Right." She cleared her throat as she casted her gaze out over the still water, "How many of you are there?" She asked him, getting straight to the point. "Excuse me?" "How many Rogues live here?" She rephrased her question. "Rogues?" He questioned, "Right, I guess that is what am, isn't it? There's only three of us. My mom, grandpa and myself."

“Then blood will spill before the prophecy intends it to.” ……. In the deepest part of the forest, where the moonlight barely kissed the ground, a figure stood on a high ridge. Eyes glowing molten gold, burning with something fierce… and broken. The rogue alpha. His long coat fluttered in the breeze as he stared down at the distant lights of the city. The scent of Elaina still lingered on the wind—wildflower and power. “She’s awakening…” he murmured, jaw clenched, claws flexing at his sides.

“By hiding there.” I turn back to the window and imagine it. Sirens. Panic. Wolves forced to hold back while fear spills everywhere. “He thinks the city makes him safe,” I say. “But it makes him weak.” Lena steps closer. “And when he realizes?” “He will have nowhere to run,” I say. “Because he will not abandon them. That is his flaw.” Mark nods slowly. “And his bloodline?” I feel that old fire burn hotter. “It ends,” I say. “Right there. In the open. Where everyone can see what happens when you cross me.”

The door was solid metal and rusted and the building numbers had fallen off long ago. Jason went to the door and knocked, giving me a here we go look. The door creaked open slowly. I had never understood pack members distaste for rogues until the scent of this man hit my nostrils. He smelled of rancid milk that had been left out in the sun. I didn’t understand what it was until Jason pushed himself between us to guard me from the man. “Can I help you?” The man asked. Squaring up solidly with Jason.

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.