The moon hung high in the ink-black sky as Raven scrubbed the stone floor of the orphanage hallway, her hands trembling from exhaustion. Her fingers were raw, blistered, and bleeding from hours of relentless labor, her back throbbing from the cruel weight of punishment.
Every breath she took felt like fire in her chest, her ribs aching from the last beating. Ella worked beside her, her once-vibrant eyes now lifeless and hollow, staring at the wooden planks she was forced to polish until her hands bled.
The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and despair, their bodies covered in bruises that never had the chance to heal. The harsh crack of Mrs. Dunley’s whip echoed in their ears, a constant reminder that pain was their only certainty. Even the smallest imperfection—a speck of dust, a misaligned sheet—would earn them a lashing. No food, no rest, only torment. The scars on their backs bore testament to their suffering, each one a silent scream against their tormentor's cruelty. Tonight was no different; tonight, they were nothing more than broken dolls being worked to death.
Raven had lived in this orphanage for a decade, ever since her parents were executed by the former Alpha for their crime—being rogues. The punishment had been swift, and she had been left behind, too young to fight, too powerless to escape. She was thrown into the orphanage, where she met Ella, a fellow rogue who had no family to claim her either. They suffered together, worked together, and now, as Ella’s eighteenth birthday loomed, they prepared for the worst.
The new Alpha had taken over a year ago, and he was far more ruthless than his father. When he declared that all rogues were to be executed upon reaching adulthood, fear spread through the orphanage like wildfire. The verdict was expected to be held on Ella’s birthday, and Raven had prepared herself for two more months of agony before her own execution. But the night before, a chilling announcement was made—Raven's fate would be decided alongside Ella’s. The shock and terror that gripped her were worse than any beating she had ever endured. They wouldn’t even grant her the last two months of life she had clung to as her only hope.
Far beyond the borders of the pack’s territory, the Lycan King had taken personal interest in the growing number of rogue children being captured and executed. His people, superior in strength and bloodline, ruled the shifter realm, and while he rarely meddled in werewolf affairs, the systematic slaughter of rogues before they reached adulthood was an abomination.
It was illegal to execute a rogue unless they had committed a crime or reached the age of maturity, and yet, packs across the land continued to do so unchecked. Children should not bear the punishment for the crimes of their parents—justice was meant to be served to the guilty, not their offspring. Yet, time and time again, the cruelty of packs saw innocent young lives snuffed out simply for their bloodline.
King Lucian decided to investigate personally, knowing that the truth was often hidden behind layers of deception. He had heard rumors of an orphanage mistreating rogue children, of verdicts being handed down before their time. If such corruption was indeed happening, he would put an end to it himself.
When the orphanage received word that the Lycan King himself would be arriving, Mrs. Dunley’s cruelty intensified. She worked Raven and Ella to the bone, forcing them to clean every inch of the orphanage under threat of severe punishment. If there was so much as a wrinkle in the sheets, they would be beaten. If a single speck of dust remained, they would be denied food.
But none of it mattered, because the Alpha had already decided their fate. He wanted them gone before the King arrived, their bodies disposed of before any questions could be asked.
The night before Ella’s execution, Raven held her friend’s hand tightly. “We have to run,” she whispered.
Ella shook her head. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“We can’t just accept this.”
Ella swallowed hard. “If we run, they’ll catch us. If we fight, they’ll kill us anyway.”
Tears burned Raven’s eyes, but she had no words to argue. They were trapped, and they both knew it.
Morning came too soon, but before they left the orphanage, Raven and Ella were forced to complete one final round of grueling chores. Their bodies already battered and weak, they scrubbed the floors until their knuckles bled, polished the wooden banisters until their arms shook, and carried heavy buckets of water up and down the halls. Any sign of exhaustion resulted in brutal punishment.
When Raven collapsed from sheer fatigue, gasping for air, Mrs. Dunley’s cold eyes gleamed with cruel delight. "Lazy little rat," she hissed, raising the whip. "You think you can slack off? Get up!"
"Please, she—she just needs a moment!" Ella pleaded, stepping forward, but a sharp glare from Mrs. Dunley made her recoil.
"Silence!" The whip cracked through the air, striking Raven’s back with brutal force. A strangled cry escaped her lips despite her best efforts to remain silent. Another lash followed, and then another. The pain was excruciating, white-hot agony searing through her spine.
Gritting her teeth through the searing pain, Raven refused to scream, refused to give their tormentor the satisfaction. When the punishment finally ceased, she struggled to her feet, her dress clinging to her bloodied back.
Ella rushed to her side, barely holding back tears. "Come on, let’s get you changed," she whispered, her voice thick with worry.
Raven nodded weakly, allowing her friend to guide her away. They both knew they had little time before the verdict, but Raven would not stand before the crowd drenched in blood—it was the last shred of dignity she could claim.
As they stepped outside, a convoy of black luxury cars rolled to a stop in front of the orphanage. For a brief moment, hope flickered in their chests—had the King arrived early??
Instead, several men in sharp suits emerged. One of them was different, his presence more commanding than the others. Raven dared to glance up for just a second before quickly looking away, her rogue status forbidding her from making eye contact. But in that brief moment, she felt something stir within her. The man’s gaze lingered on her, his gray eyes narrowing as if he recognized something in her that he couldn’t place.
Mrs. Dunley stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome, sir. I assume you are the King?”
The man scoffed. “No. I am his Beta.”
A chill ran down Raven’s spine when she heard his voice. If the Beta was here, then the King was close. But Mrs. Dunley, fearing that the girls would somehow catch the King’s attention, quickly ushered them away before they could hear more.
As they were walking to town, Raven’s instincts screamed that something was wrong. A shiver ran down her spine, a deep unease settling in her gut. The man with the silver eyes. His stare was unrelenting, piercing, as if he was searching for something within her. A strange pull tightened in her chest, an inexplicable draw that made her heart race. Her rogue status forbade her from making eye contact, but she felt compelled, almost as if something inside her yearned to meet his gaze.
Who was he? And why did he unsettle her so much?
Her breath hitched as she quickly looked away, her pulse pounding in her ears. A strange warmth coiled in her chest, both unsettling and intoxicating. She wasn’t sure if it was fear, curiosity, or something else entirely. Why did his gaze feel different? Why did it send shivers down her spine, making her stomach twist in ways she didn’t understand? She bit her lip, forcing herself to ignore the strange pull she felt toward the silver-eyed man. Whatever this was, she couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. Not today. She couldn’t afford distractions, not today. Whatever that feeling was, she had no time to decipher it. Her fate was already sealed.
As they walked down the worn path leading out of town, Ella glanced toward the distant forest, her voice barely a whisper. "If we were stronger, we could run."
Raven followed her gaze, her chest tightening. The road stretched endlessly before them, an impossible escape shimmering just out of reach. "We wouldn’t make it," she murmured. "Not like this."
Ella sighed, her steps faltering for a moment. "I hate this. Knowing we’re walking to our deaths and there’s nothing we can do."
Raven swallowed hard, gripping Ella’s wrist. "We keep moving. No matter what happens, we don’t show them fear."
Ella nodded, but her fingers trembled in Raven’s grasp. The feeling of eyes watching them only grew stronger, and despite everything, Raven couldn’t shake the lingering pull of the silver-eyed man. He had unsettled her—but he had also felt... different.
Raven was forced to her knees in the square, her hands bound tightly behind her back as the Alpha stood over her, his blade gleaming in the morning light. He was alone, the master of their fate, his authority unquestioned. She could feel Ella’s presence just a few feet away, standing to the side, her body shaking with silent sobs.
The Alpha stepped forward, his voice echoing through the hushed crowd. "These rogue abominations have no place in my pack. They are stains upon our kind. Today, I purge this filth!" His eyes darkened as he lifted his sword. "Both of them will die. Now."
"No! Please! She’s done nothing wrong!" Ella cried, her voice breaking, but the guards held her firmly in place.
The Alpha sneered at Raven, his grip tightening on his sword. "Filthy rogue. This is the price for your kind."
Raven’s body trembled, but she lifted her chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her fear. The blade was raised, the crowd silent, waiting for the inevitable. The end was moments away.
But just as the blade was about to descend, a thunderous voice rang out.
“Stop.”
A powerful aura crashed over the square, sending everyone to their knees. A towering figure in a dark coat stepped forward, his presence undeniable, his authority absolute. Behind him, his Beta and a contingent of soldiers stood at attention, their sheer presence striking fear into all who dared oppose him. The Lycan King had arrived.
Lucian’s gray eyes swept across the scene, and his gaze landed on Raven. His breath caught in his throat. There was something about her—something that called to him. And yet, she was just a rogue. But as he looked at her, bruised, bloodied, and on her knees, something inside him snapped. His wolf roared to life, howling with unrestrained fury, clawing at his consciousness. The sight of her in such a state, moments from execution, made his instincts go wild with possessiveness and rage. He clenched his fists, barely holding himself back. This wasn’t just pity or outrage—this was something deeper, something primal. His wolf demanded action, demanded that he take her, protect her. And Lucian had never felt anything so intense in his life.
“You cannot execute her,” Lucian declared, his voice laced with command. “She has not yet reached maturity.”
The Alpha clenched his jaw, straightening his posture as he glared at the Lycan King. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, the law states that the Alpha of the pack has the final say over rogues within his territory. I have decided. They die today."
Lucian’s gray eyes darkened, his voice a quiet storm. His wolf bristled beneath the surface, a possessive growl threatening to escape as he fought for control. The sight of Raven, trembling yet defiant, ignited something primal within him—something undeniable. His wolf recognized her, claimed her, but Lucian refused to acknowledge the growing pull. Not yet. "You forget another law, Alpha. The Maturity Law. Rogues are not to be executed before they have reached the age of maturity, unless they have committed a crime. This girl—" he gestured toward Raven "—is not yet eighteen."
The Alpha scoffed. "That law does not apply here. She is a rogue. She does not deserve the privilege of such laws."
A deadly silence fell over the square. Lucian took a slow step forward, his presence suffocating, his wolf dangerously close to the surface. "You dare challenge me?" His voice was low, lethal. "You, an Alpha of a mere werewolf pack, believe you hold more authority than the Lycan King?" His Beta and soldiers tensed, their hands resting on their weapons, prepared for any sign of defiance.
The Alpha hesitated, a flicker of fear finally breaking through his arrogance. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but the weight of Lucian’s power bore down on him like an unmovable force. A crushing pressure filled the air, suffocating, overwhelming. The aura of the Lycan King surged through the square, sending a primal wave of fear through all present.
The Alpha’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword, but he couldn’t hold it—his grip loosened, and with a clatter, the blade slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground at his feet. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as the realization set in—he was nothing compared to the King standing before him.
Lucian’s eyes never left him, unyielding, merciless. "You will remember your place, Alpha," he said, his voice a lethal whisper. "And you will kneel before your King."
The Alpha swallowed hard, stepping back slightly, his bravado shattered under the force of Lucian’s presence.
Lucian turned to his Beta. "Take them."