Rogues Anthology Novels & Stories

This time, it was he who would have to survive me. We lulled into a soft silence, warm and companionable. But I had too many questions to remain that way for long. “Who are they?” I whispered. “The Midnight Rogues?” A growl built in his chest. “Rogue idiots. They’re a band of miscreants, all wolves who’ve been kicked out of their packs for one reason or another. I thought I’d done enough last time I crossed paths with them, but clearly not.” He sighed and tucked me even tighter against him.

His fur was dripping wet from the pond I had been about to jump into, and the excitement of my escape vanished when his heavy paw pressed down onto the center of my back, his claws digging into my skin. I groaned from the impact, my ribs protesting as I tried to wiggle free and failed due to the enormous wolf holding me down. A combination of fear and a thrilling kind of excitement that I didn’t quite recognize filled me as he released a low, threatening growl and goosebumps rose along my skin. We rarely had rogues this close to the border, but this was no ordinary rogue. From my brief glimpse of him, I knew I was in trouble before he had collided with me. He was twice the size of any ordina

The hunters let go of her, trembling in fear at the uproar in the woods and just then, a big black wolf stormed out, his eyes flickering silver was piercing deeply at them. “ It is the Rogue Alpha”. They shiver at the mention of his name. “ Run! ”. One of them announced before running away while the others also took to their heels as fast as their legs could go. But it was the Rogue Alpha, who was brutal and never set his prey free. He charged towards them, and in just a few steps, he grabbed both of them with both his hands and shredded them to pieces. Karen who was forced to the ground while they ran for their life tried to get up, but her limbs felt numb, no matter how much she tried, she

The rogue’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, its rancid scent overwhelming my senses, but I didn’t care. Chaos erupted. The rogues attacked all at once, their desperation palpable. I met them head-on, a whirlwind of claws and teeth. One sank its teeth into my side, its breath reeking of death and decay, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t care. My jaws closed around its neck, crushing bone and tearing flesh. Its gurgled cry faded as I flung its lifeless body into another rogue, sending them both crashing into the rocks.

I thought they had found me, but I was wrong. Looking at the disheveled and animalistic eyes that surrounded me, I didn’t know whether to be grateful it wasn’t the Blood Moon Pack or to curse the moon goddess for crossing my paths with Rogues. Rogues were known to be unhinged. They lost all traces of being human and were more beasts than human. That's why they were so dangerous. “Look what we have here?” The man who I think is the leader sneers as he takes in my state. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plaything."

But that assumption was clearly bullshit. Rogues weren’t just dangerous, they were unpredictable, savage, and unbound by any laws of a pack. Outcasts who had been stripped of rank, banished for rebelling, who now tore through the world like beasts of vengeance. And when they weren’t being hunted, they hunted back. One rule about rogues: They never came alone. I turned to run, but the air shifted. The wind hissed through the trees unnaturally fast, and before my foot could even lift off the ground, something dropped from above.

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.

Unlike how I found him unconscious and butt naked. "Why did you leave your pack, Peyton?" He questions, eyes never leaving mine. "Stepping foot into this land as an exiled wolf makes you nothing but a rogue. And we do kill rogues, or lock them up because they're never to be trusted." The lines on his forehead are furrowing as he makes this known to me.

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.

Former Lycan Court warriors, rogues, anyone who ran when everything fell apart. Only about forty of them were left. All that remained of the fight against the Council. “We need to attack soon,” said Drake, a scarred warrior. “The longer we wait, the stronger the Council gets.” “Attack with what?” Amara, a rogue who had joined recently, replied. “We’ve got forty fighters. The Council has thousands. That’s suicide.” “So we just hide?” Drake snapped. “Let them win?” “We’re not letting them win. We’re surviving.” Amara gestured around the group. “Every one of us is a loose end the Council hasn’t tied up yet. Our existence is proof we’re still fighting back.”