Elizabeth followed the rogue through the dense western woods, her silver-furred wolf form silent but alert. The night was a cloak of shadows, the trees weaving a labyrinth that hid them from the howls of Herod's warriors, still echoing faintly in the distance. Her heart thundered, not just from the run but from the raw wound of Herod's rejection. I reject Elizabeth as my luna and mate. His words cut deeper than any claw, and the mate bond pulsed with a pain that made her chest ache. Yet, she pressed on, driven by Mara's words: Find the truth, Elizabeth, and come back to clear your name.
The rogue moved with a predator's grace, his dark fur blending into the night. He hadn't given her his name, and Elizabeth hadn't asked, her trust stretched thin. He'd called himself an outcast, someone who knew betrayal, but his motives were a mystery. Was he truly an ally, or was this another trap, like the stranger in her chambers? Her claws flexed at the memory, the scent of that intruder still sharp in her mind—musky, unfamiliar, gone before she could pin him down. Someone had wanted Herod to see her as a traitor, and she would unravel their lies, no matter the cost.
The rogue slowed, his ears twitching as he scanned the forest. Elizabeth halted beside him, her senses sharp. The air carried the faint tang of smoke, and a low hum of voices drifted from beyond a ridge. "The camp's close," he whispered, shifting to his human form—a tall man with weathered features and eyes that held too many secrets. "Stay sharp, Elizabeth. Rogues don't take kindly to pack wolves, especially one running from an alpha's wrath."
Elizabeth shifted back, her cloak pulled tight against the chill. "Why bring me here if it's dangerous?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "What do you gain from helping me?"
The rogue's gaze met hers, unreadable. "Let's just say I owe a debt to someone who believes in second chances. You're not the first to be cast out unjustly." He turned, gesturing toward the ridge. "Come on. We need to move before your alpha's dogs catch up."
Elizabeth bristled at the mention of Herod, but she followed, her bare feet crunching on pine needles. The howls were fainter now, but she knew Herod's warriors wouldn't stop. He'd declared her a traitor, sentenced her to death. The memory of his amber eyes, once warm with love, now cold with judgment, twisted like a knife. She pushed it down, focusing on the path ahead. Survival came first. Then truth.
They crested the ridge, and Elizabeth's breath caught. Below lay a makeshift camp, a scattering of tents and lean-tos nestled among the trees. A small fire glowed at the center, its light flickering over a dozen figures—rogues, their postures wary, their eyes glinting with the wildness of wolves unbound by pack law. Some sharpened weapons, others murmured in low tones, their glances darting toward the newcomers.
The rogue raised a hand, signaling to a burly man by the fire. "She's with me," he called, his voice carrying authority. The man nodded, but his eyes lingered on Elizabeth, assessing her like prey. She straightened, meeting his gaze with defiance. She was no one's prey.
"Keep your head down," the rogue muttered, leading her toward a small tent at the camp's edge. "These wolves don't trust easily, and your scent screams pack loyalty."
Elizabeth's jaw tightened. "I'm loyal to the truth," she said. "Not to a pack that turned on me. Or an alpha who broke our bond."
The rogue paused, studying her. "That bond's still there, isn't it?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I can see it in your eyes. Hurts like fire, doesn't it?"
Elizabeth looked away, the mate bond flaring at his words. She could still feel Herod, a distant pull that tugged at her soul, even after his rejection. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He made his choice."
The rogue didn't press, guiding her into the tent. It was sparse—a bedroll, a small crate of supplies, a single lantern casting a dim glow. Elizabeth sank onto the bedroll, her body aching from the run, her mind racing. The rogue crouched across from her, pulling a waterskin from his pack and offering it. She took it, drinking deeply, the cool water easing the burn in her throat.
"You're safe here, for now," he said. "But you need a plan, Elizabeth. Herod's warriors won't stop, and this camp isn't a fortress. What's your next move?"
Elizabeth set the waterskin down, her fingers tracing the knife Mara had given her. "I need to know who framed me," she said. "Someone wanted me out of the pack, out of Herod's life. That stranger in my chambers—he wasn't there by chance. Someone sent him."
The rogue nodded, his expression grim. "Sounds like pack politics. Someone high up, maybe. An advisor, a rival—anyone who'd gain from breaking you and Herod apart."
Elizabeth's mind flashed to the pack's inner circle—Herod's trusted advisors, the elders, the betas vying for power. Could one of them have orchestrated this? She remembered the way Herod's chief advisor had watched her in the great hall, his eyes sharp and unreadable. "I need proof," she said. "Something to take back to the pack, to make Herod see the truth."
The rogue leaned back, his hands resting on his knees. "Getting proof means going back to pack territory. Risky, Elizabeth. You're a wanted wolf now. But if you're set on it, I know someone who might help—a tracker who's good at sniffing out secrets. She's in this camp, but she doesn't come cheap."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "What's the cost?"
"Information," he said. "Rogues trade in secrets. You tell her what you know about your pack—its weaknesses, its defenses—and she'll dig into your setup. Fair trade, considering you're on the run."
Elizabeth's stomach twisted. Betray the pack's secrets? Even after Herod's rejection, the thought felt wrong, like a betrayal of the home she'd loved. But what choice did she have? Without allies, she'd be hunted down, her truth buried with her. "I'll think about it," she said finally. "But I'm not selling out my pack until I know I can trust her."
The rogue's lips quirked, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Smart. Sleep on it. You're safe here tonight, but don't linger. Herod's warriors are close."
He stood, leaving her alone in the tent. Elizabeth lay back on the bedroll, staring at the canvas above. The mate bond hummed, a painful reminder of Herod. She closed her eyes, memories flooding in—his laughter as they chased each other through the meadows, his warmth as they curled together in their den. She'd believed in their love, in the strength of their bond. But now, all she had was the echo of his voice, condemning her to death.
Her wolf stirred, restless and angry. Elizabeth let the feeling rise, fueling her resolve. She wasn't the weak mate Herod had cast aside. She was a survivor, a fighter. The rogue's words echoed in her mind: Someone high up, maybe. She thought of the advisor again, his calculating gaze. If he was behind this, she'd find out. And if Herod refused to see the truth, she'd make him.
A distant howl pierced the night, closer than before. Elizabeth sat up, her heart racing. The warriors were gaining ground. She gripped the knife, her senses sharp. She couldn't stay here long. The rogue camp was a temporary refuge, not a home. Her home was with the pack, with Herod, even if he'd turned his back on her. She'd fight her way back, not just to clear her name, but to reclaim the life she'd lost.
Elizabeth stood, pulling the cloak tighter. She stepped to the tent's entrance, peering out at the camp. The fire still burned, the rogues moving like shadows around it. The rogue who'd helped her stood by the ridge, his silhouette stark against the moonlight. He was a risk, but so was everything now. Elizabeth took a deep breath, her wolf's strength steadying her. She'd find the tracker, make the deal, and uncover the truth. Herod would see her for who she was—not a traitor, but the mate he'd wronged.
As another howl sounded, Elizabeth slipped back into the tent, her resolve burning brighter than the fire outside. The hunt was on, but she wasn't prey. She was Elizabeth, and she would fight for her truth, no matter how far she had to run.