The Road to Nowhere

Celeste's POV

The first light of dawn barely touched the horizon when I stepped out of my cabin for the last time. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of damp earth from last night's rain. My bag was slung over my shoulder, packed with whatever little I owned—clothes, a worn-out leather journal, and a small dagger I had never used.

There was nothing left for me here.

No one stopped me as I walked past the main packhouses. The warriors patrolling the perimeter barely spared me a glance. I wasn't a threat. I was a ghost.

Ronan had made sure of that.

With each step, the weight on my chest grew heavier. I had never imagined leaving this place like this—alone, rejected, stripped of everything I had once believed in.

I reached the treeline and hesitated.

Leaving meant stepping into the unknown, into a world where I had no allies, no pack to protect me. But staying meant drowning in the whispers, in the humiliation of being her—the girl who wasn't enough.

The girl who had been tossed aside.

I clenched my jaw and stepped forward.

The moment I crossed the pack's borders, something inside me shifted.

It was subtle, just a ripple through my veins, a barely-there sensation like an old wound reopening. The bond was already broken, but the territory itself had still recognized me as one of them.

Not anymore.

The rejection was complete.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I didn't stop.

I walked for hours, the sun rising higher, the heat settling on my skin as I trudged through the dense forest. My body ached from exhaustion, from the weight of the past day pressing against me like a boulder I couldn't shake. My wolf, Nova, was still silent.

She had barely stirred since last night, and I knew why.

She wasn't just hurting—she was fading.

I gritted my teeth, pushing forward. I couldn't fall apart now.

Not when I had no one left to pick up the pieces.

By the time I reached a dirt road winding through the forest, my legs were screaming in protest. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows through the trees.

I had no plan. No destination.

I just knew I had to keep moving.

A rusted signpost stood crookedly near the road, its letters barely legible beneath layers of peeling paint.

Silvercrest – 10 miles

Silvercrest. A rogue town, a place where the lost and unwanted gathered.

It wasn't ideal, but at least it was somewhere.

With a heavy sigh, I adjusted the strap of my bag and kept walking.

The road was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. I kept my senses sharp, knowing rogue territory wasn't always safe. But exhaustion was creeping in, my body sluggish from the weight of rejection.

A part of me still felt raw, still felt tethered to the past despite everything.

Ronan had slept with someone else.

The thought came out of nowhere, slamming into me like a punch to the gut.

I had spent years believing we were fated, trusting that the bond between us meant something. And in the end, it had taken nothing for him to betray me.

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat.

He is not your future anymore.

I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, but the pain still sat heavy in my chest.

Would it ever go away?

Would I ever be free of this?

A gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying the scent of something foreign—something wrong.

I froze.

The scent was musky, sharp. Unfamiliar.

Rogues.

I wasn't alone anymore.

The snap of a branch had my instincts kicking in before my brain caught up. I spun around, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Two figures stepped out from the trees, their silhouettes barely visible in the fading light. Their eyes gleamed with something I didn't like—something feral, predatory.

"Look what we have here," one of them drawled, his voice thick with amusement. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with scruffy dark hair and a smirk that made my skin crawl. "Lost little pup?"

I tightened my grip on my bag's strap, keeping my face neutral. "I don't want trouble."

The second rogue chuckled, a leaner man with scars tracing his jawline. "That's a shame. We do."

My pulse hammered. I was exhausted, my wolf was weak, and I had no backup.

But I wasn't going to die here.

I took a step back, subtly shifting my stance, my fingers inching toward the dagger strapped to my thigh.

The taller rogue caught the movement and grinned. "Oh, we got a fighter, huh?"

He lunged.

I barely dodged, stumbling back as his claws swiped through the air where my throat had been seconds ago. Adrenaline flooded my veins, pushing back the exhaustion as my instincts screamed at me to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

The second rogue circled behind me, cutting off any escape. "Don't make this hard, sweetheart. You're all alone."

I gritted my teeth.

No.

I might not be the strongest. I might not be ruthless like Amara or powerful like Ronan.

But I wasn't weak.

With a sharp inhale, I whipped my dagger free, slashing at the rogue closest to me. He barely dodged, but the blade still caught his arm, a thin line of blood blooming against his skin.

His smirk disappeared.

"Bitch," he snarled, eyes flashing with anger.

He came at me again, faster this time. I ducked, rolling away, but the second rogue was waiting. A fist slammed into my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs.

I hit the ground hard.

Pain exploded through me, but I forced myself to move, scrambling backward as they closed in.

It was over.

I could see it in their eyes—the certainty of my defeat, the twisted satisfaction of taking down someone weaker.

And maybe they were right.

Maybe I was nothing more than the rejected mate, the forgotten wolf, the girl who wasn't good enough.

But I refused to die like this.

As the taller rogue lunged again, a deep, guttural growl split the air.

It wasn't mine.

It wasn't theirs.

A dark blur crashed into the rogue mid-attack, sending him flying across the dirt road with a sickening crunch.

The second rogue barely had time to react before a massive black wolf tore into him, fangs sinking into his throat. A strangled gurgle, a snap of bone, and then—silence.

My breath came in shallow gasps as I stared at the scene before me.

The rogue leader lay motionless, his body twisted at an unnatural angle.

The second was dead, blood pooling beneath him.

And the wolf…

The wolf turned toward me, golden eyes burning through the darkness.

He was enormous, even larger than Ronan in his shifted form. Power radiated from him, thick and suffocating, an aura so overwhelming it sent a shiver down my spine.

I knew who he was before he even shifted.

Everyone knew him.

The rogue king. The monster who ruled the lawless lands beyond the packs.

And now he was looking at me.

His lips curled into something almost amused as he spoke, his voice smooth, deep, and utterly terrifying.

"Well, little wolf… looks like you owe me your life."