Chapter 8: Rogue Encounter
Evanora (Faith) POV
Zagan lay back against the stone wall, bloodshot eyes tracking me as I approached. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, the kind he wore when pretending everything was fine.
“I swear,” he murmured, “I was only looking for you. Those twins mistook me for a challenge.”
I folded my arms. “They didn’t mistake you for anything. You chose to fight.”
His gaze dropped to the floor. “They were dominating every match. I wanted to see if they earned it.”
“You don’t test wolves in their own pit,” I said quietly. “Not unless you’re prepared to bleed for it.”
A faint chuckle escaped him. “You always hated wasted strength.”
“I hate wasted loyalty more.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You can’t keep throwing yourself in front of blades for me.”
That wiped the humor from his face.
Before he could answer, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Caleb appeared, holding a goblet of blood like it might bite him. His eyes flicked nervously between us.
Zagan took the goblet and drank without ceremony.
“You’ll heal,” I said. “Slowly.”
He nodded once. No questions. No hesitation.
I turned away before either of us said something the walls might remember.
The corridor outside was empty.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Too empty.
The silence pressed in, heavy and wrong. I took three steps before an arm locked around my shoulders and a hand clamped over my mouth. Cold steel kissed my throat.
“Where is the Alpha’s room?” a voice growled.
I froze—not from fear, but calculation. I didn’t know the answer. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give it.
“I don’t know,” I breathed truthfully, fingers clawing at his forearm. I missed my dagger like a phantom limb.
The pressure tightened—
Then vanished.
Kaden slammed the rogue into the wall with bone-jarring force, forearm locked under his throat. The blade clattered to the floor.
“I think,” Kaden said evenly, “you’ve asked enough questions.”
The rogue snarled and fought back, strength unnatural, movements wrong. Kaden didn’t struggle. He controlled. A sharp twist. A crack. The rogue sagged.
Kaden didn’t look at me. “Left turn. Big bell. Ring it. Run.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I sprinted, lungs burning, boots slipping on stone. The bell tower loomed ahead. I climbed the ladder two rungs at a time and swung hard.
The bell screamed.
Torches flared across the pack house. Wolves poured from every direction, weapons flashing, voices sharp with command.
By the time I climbed down, the rogue was chained—eyes glowing an unnatural green, pupils blown wide and empty.
Rogue.
My stomach tightened.
Kaden barked orders with clipped precision. “Dungeon. Full interrogation. Sweep the perimeter. Check every entrance.”
Then his gaze found me.
“My office. Now.”
Zagan tried to follow.
“I’ll handle this,” Kaden warned.
Zagan hesitated only a moment. “Scream if you need me.”
Kaden watched him go, unreadable. “Loyal,” he said flatly. “That kind of loyalty gets people killed.”
His office was dim, lit by a single torch. He didn’t sit. Neither did I.
“You were targeted,” he said. “That wasn’t random.”
“The rogue wanted the Alpha.”
“And found you instead.” His eyes lingered—not on my face, but on how I stood. “You don’t move like prey.”
I met his gaze. “Neither do you.”
Silence stretched between us, taut and dangerous.
“You broke the curfew,” he said.
“I was tending a wounded man.”
“Rules exist for a reason.”
“So does judgment.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Not approval. Assessment.
“Rogues don’t ask for directions unless they’re desperate,” he said. “Or unless someone told them exactly where to look.”
“You think I was bait.”
“I think you’re a variable.” His gaze sharpened. “And variables draw attention.”
I stepped back. “Is this a concern… or command?”
His mouth twitched. “A warning.”
“For me?”
“For anyone standing too close to you.”
The air felt suddenly thin.
“Get some rest,” he said at last. “Rogues don’t strike once.”
I turned for the door.
Behind me, quietly: “And next time—run faster.”
I didn’t look back.
