Chapter 3 The Rogue King

The moment his arm wrapped around my waist, instinct took over. I didn't think. I didn't panic. I just reacted.

I drove my elbow back hard into his ribs and slashed the silver knife blindly through the air. The blade caught the fabric of his leather jacket, tearing it open. The rogue cursed, his grip loosening just enough for me to tear myself free. I stumbled backward, my chest heaving, the silver knife held out in front of me like a lifeline.

The cold wind whipped through the trees, carrying the heavy, wild scent of the rogues surrounding me. There were five of them now, stepping out from the shadows of the oak trees. They were big, rough-looking wolves with sharp eyes and wicked smiles.

But the man I had hit was the most terrifying of them all. He wasn't just big. He radiated a dark, suffocating power that made the air feel thick. He looked down at the tear in his jacket, then back at me, his golden eyes flashing with something that looked like amusement.

"Feisty," he murmured, rubbing his ribs where I had elbowed him. "I like that. The last White Wolf I heard about just cried and begged before she died."

"I'm not her," I spat, my voice shaking despite my brave words. My wolf was pacing frantically in my mind, telling me to run, but I knew I couldn't outrun five of them in my weakened state.

The rogue took a slow step forward. I took a step back. My heel caught on a thick tree root, and I stumbled, falling hard onto the damp earth. The knife slipped from my hand, landing just out of reach.

Before I could lunge for it, the rogue was on me. He didn't touch me, though. He just crouched down in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees. Up close, I could see the faint white scars crisscrossing his jaw and the dark stubble on his chin. He looked like a man who had survived a hundred wars.

"Calm down, little wolf," he said, his voice softer now. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the second you crossed into my territory. I don't hurt women. Not unless they give me a reason to."

"Your territory?" I breathed. "This is neutral ground."

He smirked. "It was neutral ground. Until I claimed it a year ago. My name is Silas. And you, little wolf, just trespassed on the most dangerous territory in the north."

My blood ran cold. Silas. The name sent a shiver down my spine. Every wolf in the packs knew that name. He was the Rogue King. The monster in the dark. It was said that he had slaughtered his own pack and taken over the rogue lands, ruling them with fear and blood.

He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and picked up the silver knife. He examined the blade, twirling it in his fingers. "Nice knife. Heavy silver. You know how to use it, too. I felt that cut through my jacket." He looked at me, his golden eyes piercing. "Where did you come from? You don't smell like a rogue. You smell like a pack. Like pine and woodsmoke. And..." He leaned in close, sniffing the air near my neck. I flinched, but I couldn't move away. "And you smell like a rejected mate."

The tears I had been holding back finally broke free. They spilled down my cheeks, hot and humiliating. I wiped at them furiously, hating myself for showing weakness in front of this monster.

"I don't belong to anyone," I choked out. "Not anymore."

Silas stared at me for a long moment. The amusement faded from his face, replaced by something I couldn't read. He stood up, towering over me, and held out the knife. Not the blade. The handle.

I stared at it, confused.

"Take it," he said. "You'll need it where we're going."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, my voice trembling.

"Yes, you are." He didn't move his hand. "You're running from something. I don't know what, and frankly, I don't care. But I do care about the fact that you're a White Wolf. Do you know what happens to White Wolves, girl? The ones who are left alone?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know anything about White Wolves. My mother had hidden me from the moment I was born. I didn't even know what my wolf's white fur really meant.

Silas shook his head slowly. "They get hunted. Poachers, dark witches, power-hungry Alphas. They rip a White Wolf apart to drink their blood, to steal their healing magic. A White Wolf is a weapon. And in this territory, weapons don't stay hidden for long."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "How do you know what I am? Nobody knows."

"I've been alive a long time," Silas said. "I've seen things most wolves only dream of. And I know how to spot a lie." He wiggled the knife handle. "Take it. Come with me. Or stay here and wait for the next pack of rogues to find you. I promise you, they won't be as polite as I am."

I looked at the knife. I looked at the dark, endless forest behind me. I thought of Kael laughing at my humiliation. I thought of Lila's cruel smile. I thought of the empty void in my chest where the mate bond used to be.

I had nothing. I was nothing. But a tiny spark of survival flickered inside me. I wasn't ready to die.

I reached out and took the knife.

Silas smiled, a real smile this time, though it still held an edge of danger. "Good girl. What's your name?"

I stood up, dusting the dirt off my jeans. I didn't want to be Aria anymore. Aria was the weak omega who had been rejected. Aria was the girl who had cried in front of the entire pack.

"Raven," I said. It was the first name that popped into my head. Dark. Sharp. A name for a survivor.

Silas raised an eyebrow. "Raven. Fitting. Come on, Raven. Let's see if you can keep up."

He turned and walked into the darkness. His four rogues fell into step behind him. I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding. Then, I followed.

We walked for hours. Silas didn't speak to me. Neither did the other rogues. They just moved through the forest like shadows, silent and deadly. I struggled to keep up, my legs burning and my lungs aching, but I refused to fall behind. I refused to show weakness.

Finally, we reached a massive clearing. And when I saw what was in the middle of it, my breath caught in my throat.

It wasn't a camp. It was a fortress.

A sprawling stone pack house, surrounded by high iron fences and watchtowers. It was bigger and more intimidating than the Silver Moon pack house. It looked like a castle built for war.

Silas led me through the heavy iron gates and into the main hall. The inside was just as intimidating, filled with dark wood, stone fireplaces, and the heavy scent of wolves.

But we didn't stop in the main hall. Silas led me to a wooden door at the end of a long hallway and pushed it open.

It was a bedroom. Small, but clean. There was a bed with thick blankets and a single window looking out over the dark forest.

"Get some sleep," Silas said from the doorway. "Tomorrow, we begin."

"Begin what?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Silas didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out and grabbed my chin, tilting my face up so I had to look at him. His golden eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding.

"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "I'm going to teach you how to be the weapon you were born to be."

He let go of my chin and turned to leave. But before he could shut the door, I found my voice.

"Why?" I asked, my hands shaking at my sides. "Why are you helping me?"

Silas paused. He didn't turn around. He just stood there in the shadow of the hallway, a tall, dark silhouette against the firelight.

"Because the Alpha who rejected you is about to make the biggest mistake of his life," Silas said, his voice cold and sharp. "And I want to be standing right there when you make him pay for it."

He pulled the door shut, and the click of the lock echoed through the room.

I was a prisoner. I was alone. I was broken.

But as I stared at the heavy wooden door, I realized something that made my heart beat faster.

For the first time since my eighteenth birthday, I wasn't afraid.

I was ready for war.