Kael stepped into the dungeon, and the door slammed shut behind him with a heavy echo.
The air was thick—stone, blood, and the unmistakable scent of fear.
But the rogue sitting there?
Still.
Expressionless.
Unbothered.
Kael's eyes glowed faintly as he approached. His voice, low and deadly:
"You've been quiet for years. Your kind kept to the wilds.
Now suddenly—attacks. Ambushes. Blood.
What changed?"
No answer.
The rogue just sat there, chin down, as if Kael's presence meant nothing.
Kael stepped closer, muscles tense.
"You've killed innocent pack members. Elders. Children. You even spilled human blood.
And for what?
Some petty rebellion?
Or is someone pulling your strings?"
Still… nothing.
It was like speaking to a corpse with a heartbeat.
His wolf growled inside him, deep and rising.
"Enough."
Kael's pupils narrowed. His voice dropped lower.
"You want to die in silence? Fine.
But don't mistake my calm for weakness.
I came here for answers. My wolf? He came for justice."
Still silence.
But then… the rogue lifted his head—just slightly.
And smiled.
Not a smug smile.
Not victorious.
But tired. Hollow.
And whispered:
"It's already begun."
Kael froze.
His wolf surged against his skin.
"What has begun?"
But the rogue said nothing more.
He slumped back, blood trailing from his mouth.
By the time Kael reached him—the man was gone.
Dead.
Kael stood over the rogue's body, fists clenched at his sides.
His jaw tightened, heart pounding in his ears, but it wasn't from grief—it was rage.
"It's already begun."
The words echoed like thunder inside his skull.
His wolf growled—restless, pacing, snarling.
Kael slammed his fist into the stone wall with a roar, leaving a deep crack and blood dripping from his knuckles.
He hated this.
He hated the dark. The unknown. The silence of an enemy hiding behind pawns.
This wasn't just about his pack anymore.
The rogues had crossed the line—they were killing humans.
If word of that reached the humans…
They would retaliate.
With guns. With fire.
With war.
And his pack wouldn't survive that—not now.
Kael shut his eyes, trying to still his racing thoughts. But the voice wouldn't stop.
"It has begun… it has begun…"
The weight of leadership pressed down on him like a curse.
No.
Not like this.
He stormed out of the dungeon, growling at the guards.
"Lock it down. No one goes in or out. Burn the body. Quietly."
Then he mindlinked his father.
"We need to talk. Now."
As he crossed the courtyard, wolves paused, sensing the storm in their Alpha's steps.
He was trying to breathe—but the migraine was crawling up his spine like a second shadow.
He needed answers.
He needed control.
And he needed it before this 'beginning' turned into the end.
Kael stormed into the Alpha's office, not even knocking.
His father looked up from a scroll, brows already furrowed.
"Kael?"
Kael paced the room like a trapped wolf, rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple.
"The rogue—he's dead. Said nothing except 'It has begun' before collapsing."
Silence.
Then his father exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair.
"Last time they said those words… it wasn't good."
Kael stilled. "What do you mean?"
The old Alpha nodded to the seat across from him.
"Sit. Listen."
Kael obeyed, muscles tight.
"Years ago, during the last rogue revolt… it wasn't just chaos. It was revenge.
Back then, some packs—ours included—looked down on rogues. They were outcasts. Exiled.
The revolt started because of injustice. Starvation. Abuse. That time, we could fix it with change and unity."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "But this time…?"
His father's jaw tightened. "This time, there's no injustice. No mistreatment. The rogues had food, lands, and peace."
"So why are they attacking?"
"Because someone wants war, Kael. Someone powerful enough to fuel it."
The weight of those words hit Kael like a stone.
He stood, fists shaking. "What do we do?"
The old Alpha didn't hesitate.
"We send men. Not to fight—but to live among them. Blend in. Find out who's stirring this storm."
Kael nodded, his wolf still growling under his skin. "I'll handle it. Thank you, Father."
But just as he turned to leave, something strange happened.
He blinked—once, twice—
And found himself in the healer's hall.
The scents of herbs and oils surrounded him.
Asha stood at the far end, head buried in a shelf.
He stared at her in confusion.
How did I get here?
His heart pounded again, but not with anger.
This time… with something softer. Warmer.
As if his wolf brought him here—because she was the calm after the storm.