The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of blood and damp earth. My breath came in quick, measured bursts as I sprinted through the thick underbrush, my boots barely making a sound against the moss-covered ground. The shadows slithered around me, whispering in the back of my mind, urging me to use them, to call upon the darkness that lived beneath my skin.

I ignored them.

I couldn’t risk exposing what I truly was. Not yet.

Behind me, the rogue wolves pursued relentlessly, their snarls breaking through the night air. I could hear their footfalls pounding against the earth, their hunger-driven panting closing in. They were fast—wild, untamed predators that lived for chaos and bloodshed. But I was faster. I had trained for this moment.

I had to be faster.

Because this chase wasn’t real.

Not for me, anyway.

This was all a carefully crafted deception—my escape had to look real.

If I simply walked into Blackthorn territory, they would never trust me. I needed them to see me as something else—a desperate rogue, hunted and barely clinging to survival.

So I had led the rogues here, feeding them just enough hints of my trail, allowing them to believe I was an easy target. I played the role of prey, even as I controlled every step of the hunt.

The real trick, though, was timing. I needed to cross into Blackthorn land at precisely the right moment—when Ronan’s patrol was close enough to witness my “escape” but not so close that they’d realize the rogues had been led straight to their doorstep.

Everything had to be perfect.

A vicious growl erupted behind me, closer than before. I twisted my body just as a rogue leaped, his claws swiping through empty air where my back had been a second ago. He landed hard on the ground, skidding across the damp leaves before recovering with another snarl.

His pack was right behind him—four of them in total. Bigger than most wolves, their fur was matted with filth and dried blood. Their eyes gleamed red in the moonlight, their hunger unmistakable.

They thought I was an easy kill.

I let them believe it.

I forced my breath to come ragged and uneven, adding just a touch of panic to my movements. I stumbled slightly, letting my ankle twist just enough to look real.

One of the rogues laughed—a low, guttural sound filled with cruel satisfaction.

“Not so fast now, are you, little one?” he sneered, his voice rough from years of unchecked violence.

I let my eyes go wide, pretending to scramble backward. “Please—I’m not a threat. Just let me go.”

Lies.

But convincing ones.

The rogue stepped closer, towering over me. “You should know, begging only makes the hunt more fun.”

Disgust curled in my stomach, but I kept my expression terrified, my fingers clawing at the damp earth as if I was trying to drag myself away. My heart raced—not from fear, but from the thrill of control. They thought they held the power here.

They had no idea they were walking into a trap.

Because right now, at this very moment, Ronan’s patrol was closing in.

I could hear them.

A shift in the air. The near-silent rustle of movement through the trees. The unmistakable scent of Blackthorn warriors approaching fast.

Right on time.

The rogue’s claws shot toward my throat.

And then—

A deafening snarl cut through the night.

The rogue barely had time to react before a massive black wolf barreled into him, sending him crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening crack.

The clearing erupted into chaos.

Ronan’s warriors burst through the shadows, their presence commanding and unstoppable. The scent of power filled the air—earth, smoke, and iron. Their eyes gleamed with deadly precision as they fell upon the rogues with practiced efficiency.

Lorien was the first to shift back into human form, his chest rising and falling from the exertion of the fight. His emerald gaze flicked to me, narrowing in suspicion.

“What the hell is going on here?”

I swallowed hard, making sure my voice wavered. “I—I was being hunted. They killed my pack. I ran.”

More lies. But again, believable ones.

Ronan was the last to step forward.

Even surrounded by chaos, he moved with effortless dominance, his very presence commanding the space around him. His dark brown hair was tousled from the chase, his emerald-green eyes sharp with calculation. He didn’t speak immediately—just looked at me, his gaze stripping me bare in a way that made my pulse stutter.

He could sense something was off.

I had expected that.

But it didn’t matter. Because right now, he had seen me being hunted. He had witnessed my “near death” at the hands of rogues.

That was all that mattered.

His jaw tightened. “Get her up.”

Lorien hesitated before grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet.

Ronan’s gaze stayed locked on me, unreadable. “You’re in Blackthorn territory now. That means you answer to me.”

I nodded, keeping my posture submissive. “I understand.”

His eyes flicked toward the dead rogues, then back to me.

“…We’ll see.”

Inside the Blackthorn Pack

The Blackthorn camp was larger than I had expected. Nestled deep within the forest, it was a fortress of stone and towering wooden barriers. Wolves moved through the space in their human forms, their conversations hushed as they stole glances at me.

I kept my head down, playing the part of the lost rogue.

Ronan led the way through the winding paths of the camp, his presence drawing the attention of everyone around us. I could feel the weight of their curiosity pressing down on me.

I forced myself to appear small, unthreatening.

In reality, I was observing everything.

How many warriors were stationed near the gate? Where were the weak points in their defenses? How did they communicate?

Every detail mattered.

Ronan stopped in front of a stone cabin near the center of the camp. He turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“You stay here. No wandering. No questions.” His tone was clipped, authoritative. He didn’t trust me—not yet.

Good.

I lowered my gaze, nodding obediently. “Thank you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He wasn’t expecting gratitude.

Lorien scoffed. “You’re really letting her stay?”

“For now,” Ronan muttered. “Until I figure out exactly what she is.”

His gaze locked onto mine, and for the briefest moment, I felt a strange pull—an unspoken tension crackling between us. It was subtle, but undeniable.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Fated mates.

He could feel it. Even if he didn’t understand why.

I dropped my gaze first, forcing vulnerability into my voice. “I won’t cause trouble.”

He studied me for another long moment, then turned sharply on his heel and walked away.

Lorien lingered, arms crossed, eyes still filled with suspicion. “If you so much as breathe wrong, I’ll know.”

I forced a shaky smile. “I’ll be good.”

Lies.

Because the moment they let their guard down, I would finish what I came here to do.

I just had to play my role a little longer.

And then?

Ronan Stormbane would never see it coming.