Chapter 3 Intruders - Marcus’ POV
The sirens tore through my sleep like claws ripping flesh. I bolted upright, the wail drilling into my skull with its familiar, dreaded rhythm—three short bursts followed by one long—border breach. Not a drill. My feet hit the cold floor before I'd fully registered I was moving, my wolf Rennick already pushing beneath my skin, eager for blood. Rogues. It had to be rogues. They'd been circling our territory for weeks, growing bolder with each passing day. I glanced at the empty space beside me where Elena had been sleeping; the sheets were still warm. She must have heard it first.
'North side,' Rennick growled inside my mind. 'I can feel it.'
I yanked open the bedroom door and sprinted down the hall, not bothering with clothes beyond the sleep pants I wore. The chill mountain air hit my bare chest as I burst from the pack house onto the front steps, where several warriors had already gathered, faces tight with sleep-addled concern.
"Alpha!" Beta Karin shouted, her body already half-shifted, black fur sprouting along her arms. "The north border sensors were triggered three minutes ago. Multiple intruders."
I nodded once and leapt from the top step, the shift taking me mid-air. The familiar surge of power coursed through me as bones cracked and reformed, muscles stretched and thickened. By the time my paws hit the frozen ground, Rennick had taken over our shared body, a massive grey-white wolf with amber eyes that could see through the pre-dawn darkness.
I threw back my head and howled—the Alpha's call to arms, a sound that would reach every wolf in the territory. The response came immediately: dozens of answering howls, some close, some distant, all acknowledging the command to fight.
'The Southern Valley border,' I sent through the pack links, my thoughts reaching every warrior. 'Form teams of five.'
Warriors streamed from pack houses and cabins, many already in wolf form, others shifting as they ran. I took off toward the north at full speed, feeling my pack falling in behind me in practiced formation. We'd drilled for this scenario repeatedly over the past month, ever since the first signs of rogue activity had been spotted near our borders.
'Twenty-eight heat signatures crossing the ridge,' reported Delta, our senior scout, her thoughts sharp with adrenaline. 'They're moving fast, Alpha. Not hiding their approach.'
That was unusual. Rogues typically preferred stealth, picking off stragglers or isolated wolves. A full-frontal assault meant either desperation or confidence in superior numbers.
'They've brought reinforcements,' Rennick observed grimly. 'This isn't a raiding party. It's an invasion.'
The terrain grew steeper as we ascended toward the ridge that marked our northern border. The Southern Valley No Man's Land lay beyond—a disputed territory that had become a breeding ground for packless wolves over the years. The scent hit us before we reached the crest: the rank smell of unwashed bodies and the metallic tang of old blood. Rogues carried the stink of their deterioration, their wolves unstable without pack bonds to anchor them.
I crested the ridge first, and the scene below made my hackles rise. Not twenty-eight rogues. More like forty—a sea of mangy fur and glinting eyes moving through the pine forest below. Among them were wolves so thin their ribs showed through patchy coats, and others with muscle-bound shoulders and battle scars—the dangerous ones, rogues who had survived for years on their viciousness alone.
'Hold position,' I commanded the warriors gathering behind me. 'Wait for my signal.'
We needed to time this precisely. Rush too soon, and they'd scatter into the trees where they could pick us off. Too late, and they'd breach deeper into our territory, potentially reaching the residential areas. I surveyed my force quickly—fifty-seven warriors present, with a few more still en route. Not ideal, but it would have to do.
The lead rogue, a massive brown wolf with a torn ear, paused at the bottom of the ridge, nostrils flaring as he caught our scent. His head snapped up, yellow eyes locking with mine. For a heartbeat, we stared at each other across the distance, predator to predator. Then his muzzle pulled back in a snarl, exposing yellowed fangs.
'Now,' I commanded, and launched myself down the ridge.
The air filled with snarls and thundering paws as my warriors followed, a coordinated wave of fury descending on the rogue pack. The first impact was bone-jarring—I slammed into the lead rogue at full speed, my greater weight knocking him backward. His teeth snapped inches from my throat as we rolled through pine needles and snow, claws tearing at each other's flanks.
Around us, the battle exploded into chaos. My warriors fought with the discipline of the pack-bonded, moving in coordinated attacks against the more numerous but disorganized rogues. But what the rogues lacked in strategy, they made up for in savagery. They fought like wolves with nothing to lose—because they had nothing to lose.
Blood sprayed across snow as a young warrior named Elias went down, his throat torn open by a rogue who'd slipped past our front line. I broke away from my opponent long enough to lunge at the attacker, clamping my jaws around his spine and snapping it with a sharp twist of my head. The rogue dropped, but it was too late for Elias. His eyes were already glazing over, life draining into the crimson-stained snow.
'Focus, Marcus,' Rennick growled. 'We can't save everyone.'
The lead rogue circled back, blood matting the fur on his shoulder where my teeth had found purchase. Behind him, three more rogues moved in tandem—unusual coordination for the packless. They were trying to separate me from the main group.
'Beta Karin,' I called through the pack link. 'Eastern flank is thinning.'
'On it,' came her immediate response, and I felt rather than saw her redirect a team to shore up the vulnerability.
The fight stretched on, the cold mountain air thick with growls and yelps of pain. We had the advantage of training, but they had numbers and a reckless disregard for their own safety that made them dangerous. For every rogue that fell, another seemed to take its place.
A pained howl cut through the din—one of my senior warriors down, her flank laid open to the bone. Nearby, two younger wolves were cornered against a rocky outcrop, snapping desperately at five advancing rogues.
'Beta Dominic,' I called, 'southern team to the rocks. Now.'
No response.
'Dominic!' I tried again, while tearing into a rogue who'd gotten too close.
'He's down,' came Karin's tight reply. 'Not dead, but out of the fight.'
Shit. I needed to end this before we lost more wolves. The rogues were starting to falter—they'd lost nearly half their number—but we weren’t looking good enough either. I caught sight of the leader again, now orchestrating a retreat toward the tree line. They were trying to drag the fight out, wear us down.
I gathered myself and charged directly at him, ignoring the smaller wolves in my path. Surprise flickered in his yellow eyes as I closed the distance, but he stood his ground. Our collision shook the ground, teeth and claws seeking vulnerable flesh.
My teeth found his throat and clamped down. He thrashed wildly, claws raking my sides, but I held on, increasing the pressure until I felt his windpipe crush between my jaws. His struggles weakened, then ceased altogether. I stepped back, letting his body slump to the ground.