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Arthur had felt their presence like an instinct he couldn’t explain. “I… I tried to stop them.” But it had been too late. They would never abandon their comrades to their deaths. All Arthur could do was go after them and try to kill as many rogues as he could. Didn’t know how many rogues there were, but he knew that the patrol members would be in trouble. They fought fiercely, ripping and tearing through the rogues in practiced patterns. A rogue was only at an advantage against one werewolf because rogues were fierce and irrational beasts. Against teams of three, a rogue lost the advantage of being unpredictable as the three werewolves could cooperate.

His face contorts with emotion and all I can do is stare in horror and wait for him to speak again. Soon enough, he composes himself just right to keep talking. "It's me. You're right about that. But the thing is, I used to work on dead people. I used to take corpses and try to... use them to make something bigger and alive. That's why the Rogue King dummy looked like that. I used up different parts of dead people to make him. But Tristan wasn't satisfied. The Great Leader is never satisfied. He said that if that thing is to become what our army looks like, then he might as well stop the revolution because we don't stand a chance. All the other Rogues from the start of the war two years ago

“Maybe not for others, but it’s very good for us.” I pat his shoulder, watching him bow, shaken by my response. “Where are you from, warrior?” “I was a rogue before you took me in, Alpha.” Rogues… I built Fjord Pack by rallying the rogues, offering them a home. I know how deeply these abandoned creatures crave a place to belong, and I used that. I absorbed them, molded them into my pack, and made them serve me. Don’t call me ruthless—I gave them a sanctuary. In return, they’re expected to give something back. That’s the law of survival.

"Oh, Alpha! Can we talk for a minute?" Chris sighed heavily, then turned to the rogue. "What do you want to talk about?" "Can you come over here first?" Chris sighed once again, trying not to get provoked and finally walked over to the rogue's cubicle. And looking at Chris who obeyed his words, the rogue smiled in silent satisfaction. "Tell me quickly, what do you want to talk?" The rogue cleared his throat, then spoke in a slightly lowered, almost whispered voice. "Can't you set me free? Here I am just the middleman and not the mastermind of the crime. I'm just following the orders of the person next to me."

She tried to revive him, but it was hopeless—I was hopeless. What came next was survival. Vengeance. Without my wolf, I discovered something…darker had grown within me. Something that allowed me to communicate with the rogues, to command them in a way no other could. With Hebathi’s help, I gathered the broken and the lost, the wolves who had been cast aside, and they followed me as if I were some twisted messiah and named me The Rogue Sovereign. We grew strong, I grew feared. I did everything with one goal: to build enough power to crush Bloodstone. I wanted to see them suffer, to see Caden’s smug face crumble.

The cuppiebara she was thinking of buying because of its innocent selling point was a wolf in sheep clothing just like him , that cuppiebara was selling its innocence , his familiar was a dragon the leader of all animals and he could sense that the cuppiebara was a smart little creature , wanting to get out of this smelly little playpen he was putting up an adorable front . Her experssion will be something to see when she realized that the cuppiebara she chose was something like this . " Alright " keeping his expression neutral , Rogue removed a heavy pouch jingling with gold coins in the hand of the seller , who seemed quite excited over finally being able to see a cuppiebara after waiting

He is an important person to me. “So, what are you doing here?” I ask as I stare at him, surprised at his appearance. He is not as I remember him to be. He used to be really rough and skinny. But now, he looks like someone who just popped out of a Vogue magazine. “Well…” He opens his arms wide. “Let’s say, I got lucky. I found an old man who signed all his properties over to me. He also used to be a rogue, and he built his business from scratch. He was dying and wanted a rogue to benefit from his wealth, and I am the lucky rogue he found.”

“The purebloods are getting ready to pounce on you. It’s practical for you to be in a pack than be a rogue.” Lincoln dropped the million-dollar question: “And what do you want from me?” Patrina licked her lips. It was almost like she was nervous. “I can offer you shelter and protection. In exchange... …marry me and by my Alpha.”

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.

“You slept for so long that I began to worry you would never wake up.” “How long was it?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from a combination of disuse and lack of water. “Five days,” the man responds. “Who are you?” I interrupt before he can continue. “Ah. Of course. Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I am Clay Denvo. The king of the rogues,” he says as he gestures widely with his arms. “I didn’t know that the rogues have a leader,” I respond coolly.