31. She's Ours

Cain saw the rogue wolves as they reached the end of the road.

The warrior had been right; it wasn’t just their scent that was wrong. They had shifted into their wolves and were running in formation. Rogues were never that organised. Once wolves left their pack for whatever reason, they usually died within a month if they didn’t find another pack to join. If they happened to come across a rogue pack, they lived longer, but they had no rules or structure. They stuck together out of necessity, but when they went on a hunt, it was each wolf for themselves.

These wolves had their heads lowered, teeth barred, and their ears back as they ran down the streets, one at the front, two in the middle and three at the back. This was a fighting formation. They weren’t hunting for food scraps; they had already run past several houses and not raided anything.

And not only that, they were out in broad daylight. Anyone could smell a rogue a mile away, day or night, but they preferred to hunt under th