THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  And then his fingers slacken. His face becomes as bland as a piece of paper. His body drops to the floor like a stone, an arrow sticking out of his back like a victory flag.

  I glance back up to see Noah smiling at me, and I give him a quick twitch of my lips in return. I probably would have lost the battle, but I hadn't finished with the pack wolf just yet.

  I was stronger than he thought. I always had been. Bravery just isn't my forte.

  A cold wind blows across the battle field, chilling me to the bone. The world turns grey, and my heart begins to slow, my body finally relaxing.

  That is until the sword rips straight through his body.

  He had no chance to say goodbye. No chance to receive my thanks. No chance to even drop the smile from his gorgeous, demised face.

  A halo of crimson blood stains the snow around his body, the liquid flowing from his mouth, sword in his back.

  Noah was gone.

  And all I can see is red.

  ◆◆◆

  1 | Alpha

  ❝I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different.❞

  In that moment of rage and torment, I do what any other rogue in my position would do: I blindly run head first into battle.

  I hurl myself forwards, picking up my sword on the way, unsure of where I'm going. Unsure of what I'm going to do.

  The man who stabbed Noah stands there, power and glory writhing in his grip as he claims his sword from my comrade's fallen body. It was clear to tell that he had no emotional effect after killing an innocent boy.

  He gazes up at me, but that's the last thing he does: my sword rips through his body before he can contemplate what's going on.

  Like Noah's, his death had been short. Maybe I should have let it drag out, letting torture rule him for the last few minutes of his tedious, miserable life. I'm not a psychopath, but he killed Noah. No one killed my best friend and got away with it.

  There aren't many pack wolves left, but those that remain stare at me, hands twitching to use their weapons. That's when I pick him out: the alpha.

  He was like a thorn on a rose, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was obvious he was in charge because of the power that rolled off him in waves. Not literally, but I could still feel his authority engulf me as I charged towards the corpse of his fallen comrade.

  I collect my sword, now encrusted with blood. The alpha stares at me, only ten meters away. I could tell by his calculating look that he was trying to find a way to solve the situation. He would kill me - or at least try to - but he had to figure out how to do so. I had already proved that I was a hard target.

  I place my feet so that they're shoulder width apart, sword held protectively across my body. There was no escape for me now: if I ran, the much faster male wolves would indefinitely catch up with me. I had no hope. But I wasn't going to die. Not like Noah had.

  "Why?" I ask the pack through gritted teeth. They all stare at me, dumbfounded that I had had the nerve to speak. "We did nothing to you."

  The alpha steps forwards. I step back. "We were sent here by the Alpha King to kill any rogues." The alpha hissed, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. There was something ominous about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

  His face was handsome with a sharp jawline, and a handsome shade of mouse brown that was cropped relatively short. His eyes were a deep blue, almost appearing jet due to the distance. There was a scar above his right eyebrow, although it had begun to fade with time.

  I shake my head, almost tempted to laugh. It was obvious that this group of werewolves were not rogues, or any threat. "We're not rogues."

  "You are not a pack under the influence of the Alpha King. Therefore, you are rogues." He snarled, making me want to slap his worthless face. It was a shame that he was too far away. "And ruthless, bloodthirsty beasts like yourself have no place in this world."

  Anger rises in my chest once more, and this time, I can't flush it down. A growl begins to form on my lips, but I stop myself. If I growled, they would know that I could shift, and I didn't know what they would do to me if they knew the truth.

  But the growl continues to develop, and I can't stop it.

  Don't growl, Aurora. Don't you dare growl.

  I can't help it: I growl.

  The alpha raises an eyebrow, but I don't give him any more time to react. It was hard to tell whether they would want to kill me or keep me alive because of my 'gift'.

  I rip through the clearing, sword raised above my head as I pounce, swinging it down in an almighty ark. It was stupid, fighting an alpha, but the more time I wasted, the better.

  Clang. My blade is met by his own, except he thrusts it towards me, and the force causes me to stagger back, dropping my trusted weapon in the process. He was stronger than he looked.

  In the blink of an eye, I punch him square in the face, but the blow seems to barely affect him. A single line of blood trickles from his nose, yet his face does not appear to be affected by the pain.

  His body rams into mine as he pushes me against a tree, the air crushed from my lungs. Freezing metals meets the side of my throat as he threatens to slit the skin.

  His face was now only a few centimetres away from mine, and it was easy to distinguish the strange flecks of silver floating in the sea of cobalt of his orbs. His eyes were beautiful, and for a moment they distracted me from my close encounter with death.

  But as his hand presses harder, and more air is exasperated from my lungs, I know that this is reality. I would die soon: he would slit my throat, and after a minute, that would be that.

  "Any last words, bitch?" He snarls at me, showing almost perfect white teeth, except I spot one that is slightly chipped.

  I spit in his face. The knife presses further.

  The rough bark of the tree seems to grate me as I try to shrink away from my ultimate death, but I knew that there was nowhere to go. That there was nowhere to hide. Within this clearing of frost-bitten land and smouldering ruins, I would die. Just like Lily. Just like Noah.

  Everyone was safe though, so my death wouldn't be in vain. They would remember me... right?

  I guess it was a good thing dying a hero.

  Thinking about Noah, my brain clicks on again, the cogs whirring and spinning as they process my thoughts. Noah always did the right thing. Even if he wasn't here anymore, he always knew what to do, whereas I on the other hand didn't.

  What would Noah do? I ask myself.

  I would stand here and wait for death.

  But Noah? He would save his life at any cost, even if it meant exposing himself.

  With as much power I can muster, I push the alpha from my body. However strong I might be for a female, I was no match for an alpha. I knew that, but I pushed him away anyway.

  His grip falters for a second, and I grab my chance.

  Bones crackle and snap as my body is consumed by a horrific pain, my sin prickling, flesh churning into some beast I never asked to be. It was a type of torture that you couldn't imagine; not even in nightmares.

  In a second, the pain is over, but it seems to take centuries. Every click of a bone reverberates for eternity before the pain subsides, and another wave sweeps through my body one more.

  I feel my face elongate, my senses sharped, and snow beneath my four paws. Werewolves were the same as the typical wolf species, except slightly larger. We could heal faster than a human, but not much faster.

  I glance up from my pitch black paws, wondering if my hazel eyes were much more vibrant when I was in my wolf form. The alpha just glares at me, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he deciphers what is the best thing to do.

  I growl at my opposition as he sets down his sword, bones bucking until before me stands a much larger brown wolf, the scar still above his eyebrow. It was strange to be facing such a monster of power, but I could still win this fight: I was faster and swifter than he anticipated.

  "So you can shift." He growls, raising his head as he sizes m
e up. There was no point: he was already half a meter taller than me. "But that won't save you."

  I know it won't. But I was trying to be Noah, which so far had turned out ok. For starters, I hadn't been stabbed yet.

  I don't reply. Instead, I just growl. It's enough to let him know that I'm not going down without a fight.

  The brunette wolf bolts towards me, his speed taking me by surprise. The air makes way for him as he rushes towards my wolf, each fall of his paw sounding like thunder rumbling.

  Using my agility, I manage to slide out of his way, but only just. His paw swipes thin air, but if I had been a second later, his claws would have made contact with my fur coat.

  I take a breath, trying to calm down my racing heart. The steady beat doesn't falter for a second.

  The alpha turns, and we begin to circle, challenging who is brave enough to attack.

  "Scared?" He mocks, teeth bared as if he was somewhat smiling.

  "Do I look scared?" I snarl back.

  The wolf doesn't answer. His hackles rise and his lip raises, revealing more of his yellowing canines. Deep blue eyes glare at me. Minutes tick by.

  And then it all happens at once. In a blur of brown, his figure is in front of me, his weight knocking me to the ground. I roll over in the snow, but his paws have caged me before I even get the chance to stand up.

  His eyes look directly into mine, his neck shielded from my view so I couldn't tear out his windpipe: shame, I would have possibly done it.

  I feel vulnerable within the enclosure of limbs. I had known that this was a fight I was unlikely to win, but I didn't realise it would be over so quickly. I had expected myself to give more of a fight.

  Staring at his darker, chocolate pigmented underbelly it was obvious that he had won, and I had lost.

  Moments tick by. I become more paranoid. When would he deliver the killing blow? Would my death be quick, or torturous?

  The alpha doesn't move in for the kill. Instead, with his brown fur swaying in the zephyr, he yaps one word that sends a shiver down my spine. "Shift."

  He wanted me to shift? But why? I was a rogue - he should kill me. I would rather he got it over and done with.

  I try to writhe my way out of the cage, but it's useless, so I do as he says. Our clothes rip when we transform, but we have found a material that is able to shift with us. Luckily I was wearing it, otherwise I would have to face a group of men naked.

  Bones crackle and snap back into place, and I can feel my straight hair run down past my shoulders one more. My warmer winter clothes have shredded due to the shift, so I stand in the freezing cold wearing tight black leggings and matching T-shirt. The garments were so light it felt as though I was wearing nothing at all.

  The alpha shifts before me, and as soon as I'm about to make a dash for it, he grabs my arm and holds onto it for dear life.

  He roughly pushes me against a tree once more, although this time there's no knife forcing the air from my lungs.

  His face is scrunched up with anger, still enraged from me murdering one of his pack members. Welcome to my world, jerk-face. Your fellow pack member just murdered Noah as well, so the feeling's mutual.

  "Give me one good reason why I should let you live." Not a question, a demand.

  "You've kept me alive for this long, so there must be some reason." I point out. It was true: he had already had enough chances to kill me, so why hadn't he done it?

  The alpha smirks for a second, but then points a finger in my face accusingly. "The Alpha King said to bring any shifting females with us." He informed me. "But he won't know if I 'accidentally' killed one."

  I try as hard as I can to keep my face blank: I would not give him the satisfaction of my fear. "Go ahead." I shrug my shoulders. "I'm a rogue, so I was bound to die soon anyway."

  I don't generally seem to have a way with words, but the werewolf in front of me doesn't know how to react.

  Someone tugs on the shoulder of the alpha, our eye contact breaking in a blink. The other boy was younger, but he still looked as though he held some important role within the pack.

  "Damien, lay off." He nodded towards me. "She's coming with us."

  The alpha - Damien - turns back to glare at me, his jaw clenching one more time before he loosens his grip on my body. "You're going to wish that I killed you."

  2 | King

  ❝I'm headed straight for the castle, they wanna make me their queen.❞

  A thousand eyes pierce my skin as I walk by. Being around so many people made my body tingle, and feel as if I had opened up my chest and exposed my soul. I wasn't good around people, especially those who were not classed as my race.

  A hand shoves my back, forcing me up the steps towards the majestic palace. "Move it, bitch." One of the pack members demands, and I comply. There was nowhere I could run, and human nature was forcing me to continue walking; no matter what, I didn't want to die. My parents had saved me for a reason, and I would live up to their names.

  The doors of the castle are a rich mahogany that squeak slightly on the hinges as they are forced open. Of all the places I had envisioned myself to be at this point in my life, I hadn't expected to be here.

  The journey to the kingdom of Arla had been a long one through the night. The wind had battered my body, and my hands still felt as though they were frozen blocks of ice. That was Alaska for you; harsh and cold just like me. Or at least others would say.

  The inside of the castle was luxury I had never seen. Red curtains were draped from the top of exquisite windows that scaled ten meters into the air, set in crumbling stone. The air was still frozen, even though flame torches licked the darkness. Before me was a set of stairs, red carpet laced with gold running along the rough stone.

  I hear the guards murmur something to another werewolf who was standing at the door. Despite having extremely sensitive hearing, I was unable to pick up their conversation. I didn't want to either. God knew whether they were talking about releasing me or killing me. It was most likely the latter.

  The guard abruptly drags me after him, and we mount the stairs before I have time to complain. It didn't seem right for me to be in a place of such beauty. I was a worthless, good-for-nothing rogue to them.

  But what shocks me more is the werewolf waiting for me, and by his side, another well-groomed werewolf with clean hunting clothes and a cape that was coloured a deep emerald. It was a strange sight, but as soon as I laid eyes on him, it was obvious that he was the Alpha King.

  His eyes were pale crystal with age, and his skin sagged around his face like a rotting apple. His hair still managed to cling to his head, but the grey pigment provided me with enough evidence to realise that his days were limited.

  They took me to talk to the Alpha King. The fricking Alpha King!

  The guards continue to escort me towards the man who ruled over the packs. Somewhere between the stairs and the 'great' man, my legs give way: this was the man who had ordered to kill my group of 'rogues'. This was the man who had innocent blood on his hands.

  As the guard forces me to kneel, I can't bring myself to look him in the eye. All that I can think is murderer. I was a murderer, yes, but I had a reason to be. He, on the other hand, didn't have a good reason.

  "Rise." The Alpha King demands, his voice gritty from age. I wondered how old he was. Seventy, maybe? I don't think that I've ever seen anyone as old in my life. Werewolves are lucky to survive until fifty.

  Slowly, I get to my feet, still afraid to make eye contact.

  "This better be good, Damien. I had to miss a meeting about the Rogue war for this... confrontation." The Alpha King growled.

  I glance to my side to see Damien step forward. He clenched and unclenched his jaw nervously, seemingly scared of the sheer power of the man who stood before him.

  "She's a shifting female, Sir." Damien informs the King. "We were culling the group of rogues as instructed, and she retaliated with her wolf."

  The King began to pace in front of me, arms pla
ced stiffly by his sides. Each step reverberates off the empty chasm of marble walls, each turn making the blood in my veins begin to slow, my head beginning to feel light. I want to throw up, preferably all over the King's royal clothes.