GO ROGUE

PROLOGUE The Lycan king's secret kingdom consisted of three main packs. The Shadow Pack: crafters of weapons, strongest of alphas. The Crimson Moon Pack: known for their omega healers and every form of dark sorcery. And the Red Fang Pack: merchants and travellers. Every wolf knew the basics. And there was an immortal Lycan king that wielded a scythe, working in the shadows, making sure the packs coexisted and keeping the wolves from enemies. Or at least, that was what some people believed. Sergei Vasily knew that part was a myth. For one thing, he could hear the distant howl of rogues across the hills. It was only a matter of time before they claimed half of the Red fang pack. And he knew exactly how that was going to happen, because he was going to be a part of it. There were two reasons he lay awake in the middle of the night. Footsteps shuffled outside, followed by a coded rap on his window, reminding him that it was time. He lit his torch, walking soundlessly down the

Chapter 2— UNMASKED -Zoya- Sunlight, there's a lot of it. It pours straight through my window. I shut my eyes tighter. In my head, I'm running through a thicket. The farther I run, the closer the trees are pressed together, until my skin scrapes against the thorns and I stumble over a ledge, out of breath. The smell of earth suffocates me, but not nearly as much as the anxiety and demons I'm running from. I catch myself just before I hit the floor. I keep running. And suddenly, a tall hooded figure is chasing me, walking slowly, counting his every step and swinging a scythe in his free hand. "Are you still alive, omega?" I jolt up straight, my eyes snapping open. Cold beads of sweat line my forehead. The sunlight wasn't part of the nightmare. I shield myself from the bright light, feeling a dull tingling between my eyes. My neck aches. I realize the position I'm in. I fell asleep on the chair next to my bed, laptop shut on the table after another fruitless attempt to track do

-ZOYA- "Bogus! That girl is a liar and a spy. You must be one of our enemies that she's conspiring with." Castellan steps forward, jabbing his index finger at the stranger. His golden eyes droop with boredom. No one sees him move, but with a flick of his wrist, the representative of the Blackthorn family is thrown several meters into the air, slamming into the wall, and the scythe embeds itself in the wall, just above him as though to say, you could have lost your neck just now. I gulp, goosebumps rising on my skin. Why is he standing up for me? More importantly, what could he want from me? "Does anyone else have an objection?" He asks casually. Alpha Xander steps back, his eyes wary. "What the hell are you?" The stranger grins, the angle of the sunset lighting a part of his face, making his grin look sinister. "I go by many names. But you can call me Ragnar Thorne." Alpha Xander stiffens, his face going pale, like he recognizes the name, and more glaringly, fears it. "

-ZOYA-Attack? What attack? "I'm leaving!" I blurt out, completely fed up.Ragnar turns to face me for the first time, with a look of pity. "I don't think you understand how that blood pact works yet, little wolf." I don't care, I want to say, but the words feel stuck in my throat. Ragnar stares at me with such intensity that made me want to grab a hacksaw, tear the ground open and jump inside. "Allow me to explain it to you." He steps closer. I feel rooted to the ground, aware that he is now closer than I would have liked. He takes my bruised hand, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance as he assesses the level of injury. "You are now bound to me in a master-servant relationship. You can't disobey direct orders from me. Your limbs and veins will fight you, and if you force it," his eyes meet mine, golden and devoid of emotion, "your blood would slowly flow backward, giving you a very long and interesting death." I stare at him in shock.It can't be.He was only trying to scare

-ZOYA- I try to shove him away, but Ragnar holds me in place, showing me that apart from being immortal, he could also be a fucking wall. His hand slides down to my waist, holding me firmly against him. All the bravado I felt a few moments ago dissipates into thin air. No doubt, when he tilts my chin, forcing me to look into his hypnotizing gold eyes, he sees the fear in mine. "Your ideas of rebellion have room for questioning." He scoffs, taking off a pin from my hair. Then another, until all the pins are gone from my hair and scattered on the ground and my hair is falling down my bare shoulders. "Move, Zoya," I think. "kick this mother fucker in the shin..." But my stomach was doing some weird flipping, and my legs were as stiff as a stubborn piece of clay. "Rule number one," the hand on my waist moves up to my zipper. "Gear for battle. Not pretty black gowns." That's when I move, the shock at what he's about to do spurring me into motion. I push Ragnar away with s