Chapter 1 — A Desperate Escape

Bella

The forest was alive with movement, its sounds sharp and alien in the night, but nothing felt alive within Bella. Her breath came in sharp gasps, searing her lungs as she tore through the dense underbrush. The sharp tang of pine and damp earth filled her nose, mingling with the coppery scent of her own blood. Her left arm hung slack and useless at her side, the deep gash on her shoulder crusted over but still leaking sluggishly. She clenched her jaw. Stopping was not an option. Stopping meant death—or worse.

The rogues were close, their howls rolling like thunder across the expanse of the Silverwood Forest. They weren’t just hunting her—they were herding her, driving her deeper into unfamiliar territory. Each snap of a branch, each whisper of leaves felt like a harbinger of their approach. Her heightened senses, dulled by exhaustion but still sharp enough to catch the faintest crackle of their pursuit, only fed her panic. She couldn’t tell how many there were, but enough to know they wouldn’t stop until she was caught—or pushed into whatever trap they had laid ahead.

Her boot caught on an exposed root, and her body crashed to the forest floor. The impact knocked the wind from her chest, dirt grinding against her palms as she scrambled to push herself upright. Bioluminescent moss clung to the nearby trees, casting an eerie green glow that illuminated her pale, blood-streaked face. Sweat dripped from her temple, mingling with the grime and blood smeared across her skin. Her chest heaved, and for a fleeting moment, despair threatened to suffocate her. But she shoved it down. She always had.

She pressed her trembling hand against her side, where the rogues' claws had sliced deep through her jacket and skin. Warm blood seeped through her fingers, and nausea clawed at her stomach. Pain was just a signal, she reminded herself—a warning she couldn’t afford to heed. Not now. Not when survival was everything.

Her eyes darted around, scanning for movement, for shadows that didn’t belong. The towering trees crowded her, their spectral forms blocking out all but fragmented beams of moonlight. She could feel the distant hum of the moon’s energy, a faint pulse in her veins, but it felt muted, distant. Too far away to hold onto. Too faint to help her.

Another howl shattered the night, closer this time, its echoes slicing through her fragile calm. Her heart clenched. The rogues were gaining. Bella forced her legs to move, staggering forward. The uneven terrain clawed at her boots—roots and rocks threatened to trip her again—and her vision blurred from fatigue.

Then she felt it.

The air shifted, subtle but undeniable. The primal, chaotic musk of rogue wolves gave way to something steadier, more grounded. A scent that carried hints of pine smoke, worn leather, and iron—a pack’s scent markers. She had crossed into claimed territory.

Bella slowed, her chest tightening. Packs meant rules. Packs meant hierarchies. Packs meant a suffocating control she had spent years clawing her way out of. The scars her family had left on her were a testament to what pack life could do. Yet the howls behind her reminded her she didn’t have the luxury of choice. Her options were stark: face the pack’s judgment or fall to the rogues’ claws.

Her instincts screamed to turn back, to vanish into the shadows, but her legs carried her forward on sheer momentum. The forest opened up into a wide clearing. The ground beneath her boots softened, spongy with moss, as moonlight spilled onto the scene ahead.

Her sharp green eyes caught glimpses of rustic cabins scattered around a central bonfire pit, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Voices murmured faintly in the distance, carried on the breeze. She hesitated on the edge of the tree line, her gut twisting. She felt the pull to turn back, to disappear. But there was nowhere left to go.

A whisper of doubt curled in her chest, cold and familiar. Was this truly better? Throwing herself at the mercy of strangers who would see her as a threat—just another rogue?

A crisp snap of a twig behind her shattered her hesitation. Bella whipped around, her chest heaving as her eyes raked the shadows for movement. Her hand clenched instinctively at her side, though she had no weapon, no strength to fight. A growl rumbled low in her throat, involuntary but primal. If they came for her, she would bleed them dry before they took her down.

The first figure emerged from the trees, its hulking silhouette unmistakable. Bella spun and bolted toward the compound, her boots pounding against the earth. Her injured shoulder screamed with every jarring step, and her vision swam dangerously. She reached the edge of the clearing when the sound of footsteps surrounded her.

She froze.

The air pulsed with a new kind of tension. A rumble of growls echoed—not from behind her, but ahead.

Her head snapped up, glowing green eyes locking onto the figures stepping from the compound’s shadows. They moved like ghosts, their steps unnervingly quiet, their coordination flawless. Wolves. Not rogues. These were pack wolves, their glowing silver and gold eyes catching the moonlight with eerie precision.

The largest of them stepped forward. Even in human form, his sheer presence was staggering. His posture was rigid, commanding, and there was something in the sharpness of his blue eyes that spoke of authority—a cold, uncompromising authority that sent a chill down Bella’s spine.

“Stop where you are,” he ordered, his voice low, cutting through the air like steel.

Bella froze, every muscle coiling with tension. She was too close—too far into their territory to be ignored. The rogues behind her and the pack wolves ahead of her boxed her in with no escape.

“If I wanted a fight, I wouldn’t have dragged myself through the forest bleeding,” she rasped. Her voice cracked, raw from disuse and exhaustion, but she forced her tone to carry the edge of defiance that was her shield.

The warrior’s sharp gaze swept over her, taking in the blood staining her side and arm. His nostrils flared, and his brow furrowed briefly before his expression hardened again. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice taut with suspicion.

“No kidding,” Bella said with a bitter twist of her lips, though the sarcasm lacked its usual bite. Her body swayed, exhaustion dragging her down like lead weights. “I just—”

A howl carried through the clearing, sharp and chilling, and every hair on Bella’s body stood on end. Her head snapped toward the forest’s edge, her heart pounding. The warrior’s posture shifted, his expression sharpening with focus. His packmates moved closer, their movements deliberate, cutting off any chance of retreat.

“Rogues,” the warrior growled, his voice snapping like a whip. He motioned to his packmates, the authority in his gesture absolute. “Secure her. Quickly.”

Bella’s chest tightened as two wolves flanked her, towering and unyielding. “Wait,” she protested, her voice strained, desperate. “You don’t understand. They’re—”

Her words died as a rogue burst from the trees, its monstrous form backlit by the moonlight. Bella’s instincts screamed, her muscles coiling to react, but her body betrayed her. Her legs buckled, her vision tunneling from exhaustion.

The pack wolves sprang into action. The leader shifted mid-stride, his powerful frame contorting as black fur erupted across his body. In seconds, a massive wolf stood in his place, his glowing blue eyes locked on the rogue with lethal focus. The others shifted just as swiftly, their snarls slicing through the air like knives.

Bella stumbled back, her body finally giving out. The world tilted, and the ground rushed up to meet her. Her last thought as darkness claimed her was of the wolves—silent, efficient, deadly—and the way the black wolf lunged with savage precision toward the rogue.

And then, nothing.