Chapter Ninety-Three – Ambushed at the Crossroads
They reached the fork in the road just as the first rogue broke through the trees.
Rowan caught the blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, his arm shooting out to shove Elia behind him as the snarling wolf lunged. Claws scraped across his shoulder, ripping his shirt and tearing skin before he drove his elbow into the beast’s ribs and sent it sprawling with a pained yelp.
"Form up!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
Mira and Vance flanked Elia without hesitation, weapons drawn and eyes scanning the thick forest. Another rogue burst through the underbrush, this one in human form but no less feral. A jagged scar ran down the side of his neck, and his yellowed eyes locked on Elia with unhinged focus.
“She’s the one!” he growled, sprinting toward her with a jagged dagger in hand.
Giselle stepped in front of him with a vicious snarl, her arm snapping out to block his strike. The clang of metal rang through the air as her blade met his, sparks flying. She ducked low, swept his legs out from under him, and buried her elbow in his throat as he fell, knocking the breath from his lungs. Rowan was beside her a heartbeat later, finishing the job with a sharp kick to the rogue’s temple.
They didn’t have time to breathe.
Three more emerged—two in partial shift, claws elongated and eyes glowing red with madness.
Rowan turned to Elia, grabbing her shoulders. “Stay behind me. Do not move.”
She nodded weakly, blood draining from her face, but before he could say more, a shriek tore from Mira.
One of the rogues had gotten past her defenses—barely—and swiped a blade across Elia’s side as she twisted away too late. Blood bloomed beneath her shirt, and she crumpled to the ground with a gasp, clutching her side.
“No!” Giselle dove to her knees, positioning herself over Elia, one arm held protectively across the girl’s chest while the other brandished her blade at the advancing threat.
Rowan stepped in front of them both, his wolf rising hot in his blood.
They weren’t going to survive this without backup.
Then the forest roared to life behind them.
Luther burst from the opposite trail like a storm, his massive frame crashing into the nearest rogue like a wrecking ball. His warriors followed, shifting mid-run, snarls ripping from their throats. The sound of snapping bone and clashing steel filled the air as the tide of the fight shifted instantly.
Rowan didn’t waste time. “Push them back!” he shouted.
Luther’s snarl ripped through the air as he tore into another rogue, claws slicing through flesh like paper. Blood sprayed across the dirt, and the rogue crumpled beneath his weight, only for another to leap over the body and lunge straight for him. Luther pivoted, meeting the beast mid-air with crushing force. The impact sent both of them rolling across the earth, snarling and clawing.
“Fall back to formation!” he shouted, slamming his fist into the rogue’s skull until the body went limp beneath him.
Behind him, his warriors fought like possessed creatures, holding the line. But still, more rogues spilled through the trees like ants from a broken mound—snarling, feral, and single-minded in their pursuit of Elia.
Rowan adjusted his grip on the girl, cradling her against his chest as blood seeped steadily through the fabric at her side. Giselle was beside him, blade drawn, eyes scanning the trees. Vance and Mira had taken flank positions, guarding Rowan as they tried to move.
Then came the howl.
High, furious, and unmistakably Alpha.
Liam.
Within moments, wolves burst from the eastern ridge—dozens of them. Liam led the charge, already mid-shift, his dark fur slick with sweat and battle-lust. His warriors were right behind him, snarling and crashing into the rogue flank with brutal precision.
The tide began to turn.
Rogues yelped in pain and fury as they were torn down, one by one. The coordinated defense of both packs began to press them back, the forest floor slick with blood and bodies. Rowan could feel the tide shifting—but the rogues weren’t finished yet.
“They’re targeting her!” Mira shouted, slicing down a rogue who lunged for Elia’s legs. “They’re going for Elia!”
More rogues broke through the line, reckless and bloodthirsty, each one making a beeline for Rowan and the girl in his arms.
A whistle cut through the air.
Time slowed.
Rowan’s eyes locked onto a glint of silver arcing through the trees. An arrow.
It sped toward them—aimed straight for Elia’s heart.
“No!” Giselle lunged forward, grabbing Elia and twisting her just in time to pull her body out of its path.
The arrow missed its target—but buried itself deep in Giselle’s thigh.
A strangled cry escaped her lips as she staggered to the ground, hand gripping the shaft protruding from her leg. Rowan’s blood ran cold.
“Giselle!”
“I’m fine,” she hissed through gritted teeth, trying to wave him off even as pain etched itself across her face. “Keep her safe.”
Liam was there a second later, dropping to cover them with two of his wolves while Rowan crouched beside Giselle.
“You're bleeding,” Rowan growled, eyes full of fire. “That arrow was meant for her.”
“They’ll keep coming until she’s dead,” Giselle panted, pressing her hand to the wound, blood soaking through her fingers. “We have to get her out of here.”
As if sensing their desperation, Luther and his warriors pushed harder. With a thunderous growl, Luther tackled another rogue to the ground, snapping its neck with a sickening crack. Around him, the rest of their wolves drove the remaining attackers back, their formation tightening, pressing forward.
“They’re breaking!” Someone shouted, kicking a rogue aside as it turned to flee. “They’re running!”
Sure enough, the rogues—many bloodied and limping—began retreating into the woods, snarling in frustration. The ambush had failed. Their prize was still alive.
And Rowan intended to keep it that way.
“Let’s move,” he growled.
Luther nodded, his face blood-smeared but calm. “I’ll take the rear. No one gets close again.”
They didn’t waste another moment.
This time, they ran for home with fury in their veins and blood on their heels.
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