"Stupid. So stupid," Rielle muttered to herself under her breath, dragging her feet along the narrow forest path. "You got tricked, again."
She muttered under her breath with every step, scolding herself for being so naive. The trees were thicker now—way taller than before. Their branches tangled overhead like bony fingers, blocking out more of the sunlight and throwing twitchy shadows on the dirt path whenever the wind blew.
She had been walking for what felt like forever. Or half an hour at least.
Her bag thumped lightly against her hip with each limping step. Thank the Moon Goddess it was a small one—if she had packed more, her legs might've given up already.
"Should've known this would happen," she muttered. "Dropped at the edge of nowhere, just 'walk straight ahead' he said. Hah."
She grumbled again, then paused to rub her aching leg. The path was narrowing, the fog thicker now, curling around her boots like it had a mind of its own. Still, she kept going.
But even once she got there—her new pack—it wasn't like she'd get to actually rest.
Because of course, she wasn't just walking into some regular pack. No, she was about to start living with the Alphas.
Plural.
Three of them. Triplets, no less.
She groaned aloud and let her head tip back dramatically toward the treetops. "I can't marry three people," she told the sky. "That's not even legal. Right? Right??"
The trees didn't answer.
The silence of the forest was starting to press against her ears. There were no distant voices, no sign that she was getting any closer to civilization.
Was she lost?
No, impossible. She'd only followed one road. Just one narrow, twisty path. There hadn't even been a turn.
But the more she walked, the less certain she became.
Then it came.
A rustle.
At first, she ignored it. It was probably just the wind. A squirrel. A bird.
Then she heard it again—closer this time.
Her heart kicked up a notch. She picked up her pace, her limp more obvious now as she tried to move faster than her body wanted to. Her hand tightened on her bag as she looked left, then right. Her breath caught when another rustle came from the opposite side.
"Just the wind," she whispered to herself. "Just the wind."
But she knew better.
The air felt different. Heavy. Like she wasn't alone anymore.
And then she saw him.
A man.
Tall. Lean. Leaning lazily against a tree just a few feet away with a crooked smile on his lips. His clothes were dirty. Torn. His hair matted. His eyes, too sharp.
"Hello, sweet thing," the man drawled, pushing off the tree and slowly walking toward her.
Rielle stumbled back, instinct screaming in her ears.
The man chuckled. "Aw, don't be like that. No need to be shy."
He reached out, fingers aiming for her chin.
Rielle jerked her head away. "P-please, d-don't."
"Feisty," he grinned wider. "Playing hard to get? I like that."
She froze. The leering. The smell. The tone. It all reminded her of Andros. Even here—in the wild, in the middle of nowhere—she still couldn't escape them.
Rielle swallowed and said, "I-I need to go."
She turned quickly, her limp making her movements awkward as she tried to put distance between herself and the man.
But luck had never been on her side.
Something—or someone—blocked her path, and she slammed into a hard chest, nearly losing her balance. As she looked up, another man smirked down at her.
"What's the rush, darling?"
Rielle gasped, her eyes darting around. One, two, three… more men emerged from behind trees and bushes, closing in on her.
They surrounded her like wolves.
One of them, tall with a jagged scar across his face, laughed. "You're either brave or stupid, walking this path alone. This is rogue land, girlie."
Rielle's breath caught in her throat.
Rogues? This close to Bloodfang territory?
It didn't make sense.
Even she had heard the rumors—the way the Bloodfangs dealt with trespassers, the brutality, the disappearances. No one crossed their borders. No one lingered near them unless they had a death wish.
So why were they here?
Were they really that bold?
"I-I didn't mean to," she stammered. "P-please, I don't want trouble."
They laughed louder.
"Trouble doesn't care what you want, sweetheart," one of them sneered.
Another reached out and gripped her wrist roughly. "Maybe we'll give you a little fun first. A proper welcome."
Her stomach twisted.
"Le-let go of me!" Rielle shouted and swung her bag up with all her strength, the edge smacking hard into the man's head.
"Ow! You little—"
The grip on her wrist loosened, and she took off running. Limping. Hopping. Whatever she could manage. Her heart pounded so loud it was all she could hear. Trees blurred past her. The pain in her leg screamed, but fear screamed louder.
"GET HER!"
Heavy footsteps thundered behind her. She didn't dare look back. She just ran.
And then—
Her foot caught on something, and she tumbled forward. Her hands scraped the dirt, her bag flying out of her grip.
Laughter rang out.
"Can't even walk right and still thought she could run," one of them barked.
Another whistled. "What a waste. Maybe we'll just have some fun before we leave her to the crows."
One of the rogues began walking toward her, a grin stretching his face.
Rielle whimpered, crawling backward through the dirt, tears stinging her eyes.
Then—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," someone said flatly, breaking the silence.
Deep. Cold. Dangerous.
Everything stilled.
The rogue stopped in his tracks.
Rielle turned her head and gasped.
Three men stood at the edge of the trees.
All tall. All broad. All dressed in black and shadow.
But it wasn't just their appearance—it was the air around them. Heavy. Dominant. Alpha.
The one in the center stepped forward, his long coat sweeping behind him like wings. "Step away from her. Now."
The rogues hesitated.
"Shit," one of them muttered. "It's them."
"The Bloodfangs."