Blood for Blood

Thorne

The scent of rot and sweat hit me the moment we stepped past the jagged rocks marking the rogue borderlands. The sky above was overcast—gray, heavy, oppressive—as if it could sense the violence simmering in my veins.

Williams had led us here, to this rotting shithole of broken wolves and discarded loyalties, and for once, I was glad to have a reason to tear something apart.

Kiel stepped forward immediately, nodding toward a group of rogues crouched around a makeshift fire. They stiffened at the sight of us—three Alphas flanked by Betas, their eyes flickering between fear and aggression. I could already see the tension forming, already taste the violence in the air.

Then Kiel spoke. Not in English. Not in any language I knew.

It was deep. Guttural. Rolling off his tongue like a series of growls and snarls—something ancient. Rogue-speak. A secret tongue they hadn't lost even when they'd lost everything else.