The guards heard the growls first.
Low, rough and too close.
The eastern border had been quiet all night, the kind of quiet that lulled even seasoned warriors into easing their grip on their weapons. Mist clung to the trees, moonlight barely slicing through the forest canopy.
Then the sound came again.
Growls made from many wolves.
One of the guards straightened, fingers tightening around his spear.
"Did you hear that.."
They never got the chance to finish.
Shadows burst from the tree line.
Rogues.
Too fast. Too many.
Claws ripped through the air, teeth snapping, bodies slamming into the guards before they could fully shift. Blood splattered the dirt. A scream tore through the forest as one guard was thrown aside like nothing more than prey.
They fought but it was chaos.
This wasn't a warning attack.
This was an assault.
The surviving guards barely escaped, half-shifted and bleeding, retreating deeper into pack territory as snarls chased them to the border stones.
By morning, the damage was undeniable.
The Alpha called an emergency pack meeting.
The great hall filled quickly, tension thick in the air as wolves crowded shoulder to shoulder. Whispers bounced off the stone walls fear, anger and confusion.
Romilda stood near the back beside her mother, ready to know what it about so she could go and do what she was doing.
At the front of the hall, Alpha Luther stood rigid, arms crossed behind his back, golden eyes cold and sharp beside him was his son, Martin.
"The eastern border was attacked before sunrise," he announced. "Our guards were caught off guard. Two injured. One nearly lost his life."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"Rogues don't do this," someone whispered.
Luther nodded slowly. "Exactly."
The room quieted.
"Rogues do not attack borders without reason," the Alpha continued, his voice cutting clean through the hall. "They don't risk open confrontation unless they have been provoked."
Alpha Luther lifted a hand, silencing the rising voices before they could erupt.
"Make no mistake," he said coldly. "We cannot afford a war with the rogues."
A ripple of unease passed through the hall.
"They are not scattered scavengers," Luther continued. "When united, rogues have the strength to wipe out an entire pack that is not prepared to face them."
Gasps followed his words.
"Our borders are strong," he admitted, "but not unbreakable. One reckless act, one foolish provocation, is enough to bring destruction to every wolf standing in this hall."
His gaze sharpened, voice dropping to something lethal.
"I will not allow one individual's mistake to cost this pack its survival."
The silence that followed was heavy and thick with fear and understanding, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
A ripple of unease moved through the pack. Wolves shifted, murmurs rising, eyes darting from one face to another searching.
At the far side of the hall, Lisa's blood ran cold.
Her fingers curled tightly into her skirts, nails biting into her skin.
Provoked.
Her mind raced back to the furious rogue, his snarled warning, the slap she had delivered instead of payment.
You better pay me all my money.
Her breath hitched.
This is my fault.
Before she could stop herself, fear flickered across her face.
A tall wolf near the center of the hall spoke up hesitantly, but loud enough for all to hear.
"Well… there was someone attacked by rogues recently."
The room stilled.
Another voice followed, sharper this time.
"The Omega, Romilda."
All eyes turned.
Romilda's stomach dropped.
Whispers erupted instantly.
"She was attacked personally..."
"Rogues don't choose victims without reason."
"Maybe she angered them somehow."
Lisa's lips parted in false shock, then slowly curved into a look of grim understanding.
"Yes," she said softly, just loud enough to carry. "It does make sense, doesn't it?"
Romilda froze.
Priscilla stepped forward immediately, fury blazing in her eyes.
"Enough!" she snapped. "My daughter has done nothing to provoke anyone. She was almost harmed thanks to ever was the reason behind her attack and the pack attack!"
But the murmurs only grew.
Alpha Luther lifted a hand, silencing the room.
His golden gaze locked onto Romilda, it was cold, sharp and searching.
"You," he said. "Why were you attacked?"
Romilda swallowed hard, her heart pounding so violently it hurt.
"I....I don't know," she answered honestly. "I was coming back from the market. They appeared out of nowhere."
The Alpha's stare didn't soften.
Martin's chest tightened.
He stepped forward before his father could speak again.
"Rogues don't always need a reason," Martin said firmly. "Sometimes they use someone as an example. To test defenses. To spread fear." His eyes flicked briefly to Romilda.
"She was unlucky. That's all."
The room hesitated.
A few wolves nodded slowly.
But Alpha Luther didn't.
He descended the steps toward Romilda, boots echoing heavily against the stone floor. With every step, the pressure in the room increased.
Romilda stood frozen as he stopped directly in front of her.
His eyes burned into hers.
"If I ever hear," he said quietly, dangerously, "that you are the reason rogues are threatening this pack…"
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"…you will wish you were dead."
Romilda's breath caught.
Priscilla moved instinctively in front of her daughter, but Luther had already turned away.
The damage was done.
The room buzzed with tension, suspicion that it her fault lingered like smoke.
Lisa exhaled slowly, relief flooding her veins.
Good, she thought.
Let them look at her. Not me.