Krogan Without Armor Novelas e Histórias

"Not one of the ones we killed, I take it?" Hunter shook his head. “No. Must’ve been the one that got away. But this one,"—he gestured at the nearly unconscious rogue—" said enough to know his look. Tall. Brown hair, a scar running from the chin down the neck.” Claw… The rogues were typically disorganized, scattered, and lesser in number. They didn't have the guts to attack established packs. But now? Now they were coordinated, working together. And for what? For who?

Sunlight streaming through the barred window. I scrambled out of bed, still wearing the clothes I'd put on last night. The door opened. A rogue stood there. Not the young one from yesterday. This one was older, bigger and scarred across his jaw. "Move," he growled. I followed him out of the room. Down the corridor. Down a set of stone stairs. Through another hallway. We ended up in what looked like a dining hall. Long tables. Benches. At least fifty rogues eating breakfast. All of them stopped and stared when I walked in.

I caught it by the throat, flipped it, and tore into it before it could blink. Blood sprayed across the dirt. And the battle began. We fought hard—every warrior, every guard, every wolf willing to stand between the palace and death. They kept coming. Rogues were never organized. They never fought with strategy. But these… these were different. They were wild, yes—but united. Driven. Almost frantic. And that made them easier to kill—but more dangerous too. I ripped another rogue off one of my younger warriors, snapping its spine with a quick twist. The warrior yelped a weak “Thank you,” through the link before turning to help someone else.

It was definitely not children. Guards. "They're patrolling the area," Liora whispered, reading their pattern. "They are disciplined and professional." These are not your regular rogues. These are trained fighters; rogues are not organized or disciplined, simply because they are not subject to leadership and have no pack. I met Marcus's eyes. This was more organized than we'd expected. We gave the patrol path a wide berth and continued north. The old compound should be another ten miles ahead. Aeliana's POV

Perhaps your rogue is still out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered. END OF BOOK EIGHT

The rogues filled the air with their decaying scent, as they growled and snarled at soldiers, who were clad in their protective gears as they fought in their wolf forms. I joined Connor, Xander and Luke at the front line, who were all still in their human forms as they tore through the Rogues. "What's the status?" I asked, slicing through a rogue who tried to attack from behind. Connor cleared his throat. "We are winning. The rogues are easy to kill." My sword sliced through two at a time, and alarm bells rang in my head. "This is a distraction." A scream tore through one of the soldiers behind me, and the sight sent a shiver through me.

They were followed by a horde of fierce warriors, their eyes fixed on the rogue pack. Alpha Ronan, Alpha Kayson, and Alpha Ryder fought with precision and skill, taking down the rogue pack members one by one. Their movements were swift and deadly, a testament to their training and experience. The battle was intense, with snarls and growls filling the air, but my mates were determined to protect me. They fought with a singular focus, their eyes fixed on the enemy, their muscles tensed with effort.

Fen surged beneath his skin, dark claws emerging as he threw the attacker aside. But the rogue didn’t stay down. It rose immediately, shaking off blows that should have shattered ribs. Pain meant nothing to it. Mira felt that unnatural endurance echo in her own marrow, and deep within the bond, Sera whimpered in shared distress. Darius froze for a heartbeat, staring at the creature. The crescent scar on the rogue’s shoulder pulsed with a faint, sickly light beneath the rain. This was no ordinary fighter. It was a vessel emptied of will, animated only by whatever dark ritual had carved that mark into its flesh.

As the final one was about to hit Olivia, a hand reached at from the barrier before it diminishes. Revealing himself to be a humanoid made with turquoise skin, fins for ears and large yellow eyes. The young folklore was a green cadet uniform, similar to Scott’s only with a white streak in the middle and a red Scarf around his neck. On the left side of his chest laid a red “L” shaped badge. “Roge Nest,” Scott smirked. “It’s been a while.” “Missed you too, Nollax,” Roge said as the spear shattered in his hand.

“And of course, you don’t want to mark me because you don’t want to take your throne back.” “I don’t know what I want to do yet. I have no support. No army. It’s not that easy.” “What about these rogues Monty spoke about? What is a rogue anyway?” “A rogue is a packless wolf. It’s not that easy. Rogues aren’t warriors. By the time I have them trained and ready for a war, Caspian would know and we’d all be dead. Well, not you and me…we’d only wish we were dead.”