The rogues came like shadows given flesh.
Five gaunt figures emerged from the twisted pines, their ribs sharp ridges beneath mangy fur that spoke of too many hungry nights. Their eyes glowed with the dull red of wolves who had abandoned pack law for survival's brutal arithmetic. They moved with the desperate coordination of predators who had learned to hunt together or die alone.
Reign didn't retreat. Her wolf wouldn't let her.
The largest rogue—a scarred male with one ear torn to ribbons—lifted his muzzle and tested the air. His lips peeled back in a grin that revealed cracked fangs. "Well, well. What have we here? A little lost lamb, wandering where she doesn't belong."
Through their mystical bond, she felt the direwolf's muscles coiling like steel springs. The ancient creature's pat
