One

The familiar rush of adrenaline surged through me as my blade sliced cleanly through Bennett’s neck, his lifeless head hitting the ground with a dull thud.

I ignored the familiar throbbing headache that always followed the death of a pack member. Soon, the pain would worsen, crawling through my skull as the adrenaline faded, but it was worth it. Right now, only one thing mattered: the thrill of putting yet another rebellious pack member in his place.

Clapping my hands, I let the sound echo through the tense silence. As usual, I ignored the glares, looks of disgust, and stoic expressions. They didn't affect me and never would, no matter how much effort was involved. “Anyone else care to join him? I’ll make your death swift—I promise.”

But before the pack could react, a familiar voice cut in. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mara.”

"Don't call me that," I sneered, finding Joe—my father’s mateless brother and the last person I wanted to see—pushing through the throng of pack members. Joe was one of those men who believed a woman’s place was either in the kitchen or in his bed, and, unfortunately, my pack respected him more than they should have.

They made way for Joe as if it were the alpha passing. Most, if not all, of my pack members thought he should be alpha because he was my late father's brother, but I disagreed. Being an alpha was my birthright, and not even Sleepy Joe could take that from me.

Joe never challenged me for the alpha title. Either he was afraid I would behead him in the process, or he thought the pressure would be too much and I would miraculously step down. He could dream all his life, but I didn't ascend the throne just to descend for some pathetic lowlife like Joe to take my place. I never liked Joe, and I didn't hesitate to show my dislike.

He reeked of rot, like old eggs, and his very presence grated on my nerves. I flashed him a dark grin. “Finally grown a spine, Joe?” I asked, smiling. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I was feeling very dizzy. A feeling I didn't like after the adrenaline wore off. I usually blacked out, but I wasn't doing that today, not in front of Sleepy Joe.

His smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly. “Scared to lose, Alpha? You’ll submit to me eventually.”

I laughed, bitterly. “Try me. You’ve always been too weak to take the title by force.”

Before he could respond, Bradley burst into the arena, panting, his face ashen. “My lady, there was an attack on the clubhouse.”

My pulse spiked, but I kept my expression cold. I built that clubhouse to keep my people safe, not to watch it burn. “Details."

“It’s hard to say, my lady. Everything was calm, and then—there was fire everywhere. I barely made it out.”

"Any survivors?" I asked, keeping my breathing shallow.

He looked at the ground. “Only me.”

A strange chill crept over me as I took in his words. I was no stranger to rogue attacks, but something about this felt different. “Do you know who did it?”

“A rogue. We captured him, but he didn’t say a word. We thought you might…persuade him.”

I nodded, my jaw clenched. “Increase border patrol. No females or children outside pack boundaries.” With a curt nod to Bradley, I moved toward the dungeons, my heart pounding with an odd sense of foreboding.

The dungeons were beneath the arena. "Bradley?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"One more thing. Take care of that body, will you?"

His smile was tight-lipped, and he nodded as he went to attend to his father's body.

Most rogues that attacked the pack lands came in groups or sought their mates and werewolves who had been banished from their nearest pack for one reason or another. The ones I accepted obeyed my every command.

Lukas straightened up once he saw me. "He's a tough nut to crack, Alpha. He didn't even flinch when I threatened to cut off his tongue. And he won't stop smiling."

When on earth did smiling become a crime? I wouldn't know, since I barely smiled. They never smiled. They either frowned or had blank looks on their faces. I had a feeling this one wasn't going to be easy.

"No problem, Lukas. Go home to your wife. Do whatever mated couples do, and oh, wash your hands before you leave."

He nodded, his eyes silently asking me if I would be okay on my own, alone with this rogue.

I tell him to leave before making my way inside the cell, closing the door behind me.

I shouldn't have closed that door.

The rogue was bound, but something about him set my instincts on edge.

The rogue was strikingly tall and sinewy, his muscles lean yet powerful, evident beneath the battered and scarred skin stretched over him like hardened leather. His face was rough, marked by old scars slashing across his cheekbones and brow, and a jagged line snaked down from the corner of his right eye—a wound that looked like it should have taken his sight but somehow hadn’t. His jaw was strong, shadowed by a dark stubble that only accentuated his fierce features. His hair, a dark mass barely tamed into a low ponytail, had a slight wave to it, giving him an untamed, almost feral look.

Around his neck was a faded birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon, adding an oddly mystical touch to his otherwise brutal appearance. His chest was marred by both old scars and fresh welts, as though he’d survived countless battles but had never fully healed from any of them. Most noticeable was the jagged scar across his left pectoral, cutting through his nipple, a grim reminder of whatever life he’d led outside the pack.

He kept his eyes closed, but he knew I was there.

"I won't run away if that is what you are afraid of."

His voice is smooth. His pink tongue, (I can't believe Lukas wanted to cut it) ran over his bottom lip. His eyes remained closed.

"And why would I worry about you escaping? I wasn't the one who was beaten to a pulp."

"If dear old Lukas couldn't get anything out from me, what makes you think you can?"

"Well, for starters, I am the one who made you speak."

"Lies. I called Lukas a d*ckh**d because of his empty threats."

I rolled my eyes at him, not moving an inch.

"What do you want?"

"I think the question here is what do you want? Females usually don't come to me unless they want something from me."

I rolled my eyes at his comment. Egoistical arsehole.

"I do want something. I want to know why my clubhouse was burned to the ground."

"I was there, admiring the decor, and next thing I know there was a fire."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. Suit yourself. It's not like I give a rat arse of what you think of me."

I am attempting a normal conversation with this, well abnormal man in hopes of getting him to talk. The stench that stuck with him is a clear message to anyone except for humans that he is a rogue. But to humans, he wears that bad-boy personality very well. I don't know why I am beginning to smell him. He stinks of burnt wood and the scent isn't nice, and that's a lot seeing that I am a wolf.

"It depends on your meaning of that word."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Should I?"

I scowl. "It is not fair if you keep answering my questions with a question."

"Life isn't fair sweetheart. I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to make small talk with me."

"You really should be afraid of me rogue. Most rogues I've come across, don't stay alive for this long."

"Most rogues. Well, it is a shame that I don't fit into that category. Don't you have anything other to do than question me?"

Talking to this guy was not a wise idea. He still hasn't opened his eyes and I secretly wonder why. His eyeballs moved underneath his lids, and he breathed slowly through his mouth. I don't know if it is the wolfsbane that Lukas had forced down his throat or a different matter entirely. 

"Open your eyes."

He didn't respond, but he tilted his head to the side, which meant a no.

"Open your eyes," I repeated each word slowly, infusing my alpha tone into my voice. He does not submit.

He grinned, his voice that lazy drawl that made my insides squirm, his fingers playing with his nipple. I don't know why, but that action alone seemed to turn me on. Unconsciously, I rubbed my legs together. This has never happened before. It is a good thing his eyes are closed, so he wouldn't see how flushed my cheeks have become. I can't believe a rogue is making me feel this way.

"The alpha thingy doesn't work on me. Plus, you won't like what you will see."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He continued to play with his nipple, the scarred one, and I am watching him for a while, closing my legs tighter than before. My breaths continued in short pants as it became a little hot down there. His face is calm, and he is completely unaware of what he is doing to me. Once I am tired of him, I am getting laid.

His voice was unexpectedly smooth as he spoke without looking at me. “You won’t get anything from me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why speak at all?”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Because I enjoy your attention, Alpha. And I’d hate for this to end…too quickly.”

An unwelcome heat coiled in my stomach, and I clenched my fists, my voice cold. “Afraid to open your eyes? Is that why you won’t look at me?”

He grinned, fingers idly tracing the scar on his chest. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to see them. Promise to stop questioning me, and I’ll open them.”

There was something unnatural in his confidence, a hint of danger that thrilled and unnerved me in equal measure. Against my better judgment, I agreed, a dark thrill building as he slowly opened his eyes—