The Rouge's Pursuit.

The night lashed out with a tremendous wind that howled against the castle roof. It was no doubt that rain was imminent, but the goddess of rain seemed to be holding back the downpour for a reason.

But for what reason? King Draven thought as he stood by the window, his piercing gaze fixed on the darkened sky. A strange feeling settled over him, elusive yet persistent, like a premonition he couldn’t quite grasp. It felt as if something significant would unfold in mere hours.

Centuries of existence had taught him to trust his instincts. When something stirred his mind, it was rarely without cause. "What could that be? Is someone plotting against me?" He said to himself. However, someone is always plotting against him because he is surrounded by enemies. Enemies within and enemies far away.

The door opened, revealing Carlos. Carlos has always being his assistant and personal guide. Carlos, stepped in and strode toward him. With a deep bow, Carlos addressed the king.

"The men you sent have arrived. Shall I inform them of your arrival?"

Draven turned, his dark eyes narrowing. "Inform them. I will be there shortly."

Carlos bowed again and left.

Draven exhaled slowly. The men he had summoned to deal with the rogue werewolves were some of the finest warriors he had ever trained. They lived among other packs, ensuring the safety and stability of the vampire territories. Now, their skills were needed here. He stepped out of his room, his strides purposeful as he headed toward the hall where his men waited.

The moment he entered, the warriors bowed deeply.

"We heard of the rogue attacks on our lands, King Draven. Why were we not informed sooner?" Kane asked, his voice tinged with frustration. He glanced at the others, who nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Primus. Calling for reinforcements earlier would have been prudent," Kia added, his tone sharp.

Draven’s lips curled into a cold smile, his commanding presence silencing the room.

"And now you are here to do what must be done. Any werewolf that crosses my borders to harm my people will meet their end. Show no mercy. May the goddess pity their souls, for we will not."

Kane frowned. "But why not have our own warriors handle this?"

Draven's expression hardened. "Because they show mercy. Matters such as this do not require my attention. They require the kind of savagery only you can deliver."

Raising a hand, he stopped Kia from speaking further. "The more time we waste here, the closer those rogues come to our lands. Every moment you delay may cost us more lives."

His words sparked a fire in his men. Growls echoed in the room as their canines extended, their thirst for battle evident.

"Quick, men! The Primus is right. Let’s move!" Kane commanded, and victorious cries erupted. Without wasting another moment, they departed for the outskirts of the territory, where the rogue incursions had occurred.

---

Aurora ran through the dense forest, her bare feet pounding against the rough terrain. She had fled in such haste that she hadn’t thought to grab her sandals. She was far enough from the pack to feel some relief, but fear still clung to her like a shadow.

Thorns tore at her flesh, and the darkness of the night made navigation nearly impossible. Suddenly, a voice whispered through the trees, chilling her to the core.

"Run, Aurora, run."

She froze, looking around frantically. "Who’s there?" she called out, her voice trembling.

"Run, Aurora. Don’t stop. Run for your life," the voice urged again.

Her heart raced as she spun in place, trying to locate the source of the voice. Was it the goddess speaking to her? Or was the forest playing tricks on her mind? A surge of anger flared within her.

"Why do you call my name?" she shouted, her voice raw with emotion. "You’ve cursed me with pain! You mated me with a devil—a monster who abused and broke me. Why, goddess? Why?!"

The forest offered no answer, only the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal birds. Dropping to her knees, Aurora clutched a small teddy bear close to her chest, tears streaming down her face. The despair was overwhelming, but she had come too far to give up now. She wiped her tears and stood, determination replacing her sorrow.

She had no idea where to go. No family or friends waited for her outside the pack. But she wouldn’t let that stop her.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears. Her stomach sank as she recognized the gait of werewolves. Their scent followed soon after, unmistakable even in the dense forest. They were her packmates. They had found her.

Aurora bolted, ignoring the searing pain in her legs and the exhaustion threatening to consume her. The scent of her pursuers grew stronger. Fear clawed at her as she realized she was nearing an unknown territory.

The air shifted, carrying with it the distinct scent of rogues. Her heart pounded. She was running into rogue lands—trading one danger for another. But there was no turning back now.

She pushed forward until the scent changed again. This new land smelled unfamiliar, neither rogue nor pack. It felt ancient, foreboding. Before she could make sense of it, a massive wolf leapt in front of her, baring its teeth with a menacing growl.

Aurora stumbled back, only to collide with another wolf behind her. She was surrounded. Her breath hitched as she recognized their faces—wolves from her pack, now tainted with the rogue scent.

Without warning, the wolves attacked. One sank its teeth into her shoulder, ripping flesh and drawing a bloodcurdling scream from her lips.