Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 48: Rogues

ZAIN – POV

The training yard was nearly empty by the time the moon rose above the trees, casting long shadows across the stone walls and iron gates. Cian was already saddling his horse, and Gamma Rhys stood nearby, checking their supply packs with practiced efficiency.

We were ready.

At least, they were.

Me? I wasn’t sure what the hell I was feeling.

Anger. Lust. Frustration. A bitter cocktail churning in my gut.

I adjusted the straps on my belt and exhaled, trying to keep my wolf from clawing its way to the surface. But it was restless—he was restless. We both were. I could feel the tension vibrating in my skin like a fuse waiting for a match.

All because of her.

Violet.

The way she’d looked at me in that kitchen, like she could see right through me and still dared to challenge what she saw. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

In front of my pack.

In front of everyone.

Feeding him like he was some long-lost prince instead of the spineless bastard who left her to rot. Defying me without a hint of fear—no respect in her voice, no deference in her eyes.

She knew what she was doing.

And she did it anyway.

And now I was leaving without telling her.

Let her stew in it. Let her twist with questions. Let her wonder if I was coming back, if I was watching, if I’d changed my mind about her.

Because sometimes silence was the sharpest blade.

"I don’t like this," Cian said behind me, breaking the silence. "Leaving with things unsettled."

I didn’t answer.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might say something I couldn’t take back.

He watched me a moment longer, then added, "She looked hurt."

My jaw ticked. "Good."

Cian’s brow lifted. "Is it?"

I didn’t answer that either.

Because no—it wasn’t good. It hurt me, too. And that was the fucking problem.

I glanced back toward the packhouse, knowing exactly where her room was even without seeing it. I could feel her in there. Stubborn and fiery. Probably pacing. Probably pissed. Probably thinking she’d won something.

But she hadn’t.

This wasn’t over.

I mounted my horse and yanked the reins too hard, the beast beneath me snorting in protest. Rhys took his position beside us, silent as always.

"We’ll ride through the night," I ordered. "I want to be on the rogue border before sunrise."

"And if we run into trouble?" Rhys asked.

I looked toward the trees, the wind tugging at my shirt, the ache of leaving her clawing at my chest like a curse.

"Then we kill everything in our path."

I turned back to the trail, spine straight, jaw locked, and without another word—

I rode.

Not because I wanted to leave her.

But because she needed to remember who the hell she belonged to

Branches slapped against my arms as we cut through the dense thicket, the scent of rot and blood thick in the air. The forest here was darker, quieter—wrong in a way that made every hair on my neck stand.

We were close.

The rogues had passed through here recently. The stench of them clung to the bark and turned the wind foul. Desperate. Rabid.

I crouched near a patch of disturbed earth, pressing two fingers to the blood-slicked soil.

Fresh.

"Six, maybe seven of them," I muttered, rising to my feet. "They’re not far."

Cian sniffed the air and nodded. "They’re fast, but sloppy. Like they’re running from something."

Or toward something.

My jaw clenched. I didn’t like it. None of it.

This wasn’t a normal rogue movement. This was organized—calculated. A pack of mutts too far gone to think clearly didn’t travel this deep into controlled territory unless they had a reason.

Or a leader.

"I want eyes up high," I said. "Rhys, take the ridge. Cian, you stay close. If they’re nesting nearby, we don’t go in loud—we corner them."

Rhys took off without a word, vanishing into the shadows like a phantom. Cian lingered, watching me as I surveyed the terrain ahead.

"You’re tense," he said carefully. "More than usual."

"I’m hunting."

"You’re brooding."

I didn’t respond.

Because he was right.

I was brooding.

But not just because of the rogues.

Because every fucking time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

Violet.

The fury in her eyes. The defiance. The softness I didn’t deserve. The scent of her clinging to my clothes. The way she’d looked at me in the dungeon, in the kitchen, like she didn’t know if she wanted to kill me or kiss me.

It was maddening.

She’d infected every inch of me.

"You think she’ll be there when we get back?" Cian asked suddenly, keeping his voice low.

I didn’t answer.

Because that was the thing that kept me awake every time I blinked.

What if she wasn’t?

What if, in the time I was gone, Roman weaseled his way back into her head?

What if she rejected the bond?

What if she chose him?

My growl rumbled from deep in my chest, loud enough to make birds scatter from the trees.

Cian raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Bad question."

I gritted my teeth, eyes fixed on the bend ahead. "Let’s just find the bastards."

We moved again, silent as death, tracking the rogues deeper into the woods until the trees thinned and a clearing opened before us.

And that’s when I saw it.

A campsite—abandoned, but not empty.

Bones. Torn clothes. Symbols scratched into trees.

Not just rogues.

Blood-bound rogues.

Dark magic pulsed through the clearing like a heartbeat. I stepped into the open, heart pounding as I reached for the dagger strapped to my hip.

"This isn’t just a hunt," I said lowly. "This is a fucking trap."

And somewhere in the back of my mind, something cold and sharp whispered—

If they were sent... who sent them?

And worse—

What if they were never after me?

What if they were after her?

My blood ran cold, it couldn’t be I just left her few hours ago.

Nothing could have possibly happened.

We dismounted in silence, the crunch of our boots on the frost-bitten leaves the only sound in the clearing. The horses were restless—snorting, pawing at the dirt, ears flicking back with unease. They felt it too.

Something was wrong.

I scanned the perimeter while Cian moved toward the makeshift fire pit, kneeling by the ashes. "Still warm," he muttered. "They were here... not long ago."

"Hours," Rhys added, already combing through a pile of shredded bags and torn blankets. "But they left fast. No gear. No meat. Just blood and bones."

I crouched near the tree marked with the blood symbol—a jagged spiral that reeked of old magic. Foul. Twisted. The kind of spell used to bind the mind and rot the soul. My claws ached beneath my skin just being near it.

"These aren’t ordinary rogues," I said tightly. "Someone’s controlling them."

Rhys held up a strip of black fabric—thin, delicate. "This wasn’t theirs," he said, voice sharp. "This belonged to a woman."

I snatched it from his hand.

Soft. Torn. And unmistakably stained with fresh blood.

My wolf went still.

A low growl tore from my throat. "She was here."

"Violet?" Cian asked, alarm flashing across his face.

I didn’t answer.

"What do you mean she was here? That’s impossible."

At this point I didn’t exactly know what to expect when it came to her or who wanted her alive or dead.

Because I didn’t know.

But something deep inside me twisted violently, like my soul had been yanked on a leash. I knew her scent anywhere—and it clung to this forest like a ghost.

"Spread out," I barked, rage mounting with every second. "Search everything—tracks, scents, symbols. Anything that tells me where they went."

The men obeyed instantly, fanning out around the clearing. I moved to the edge where claw marks had raked through the bark of a tree—feral, wild. A fight had happened here. Blood sprayed across the underbrush in arcs.

Someone had been dragged.

"She fought," Rhys called out from the other side of the clearing. "There’s a trail heading north."

Cian cursed under his breath. "That’s straight into dead zone territory."

"I don’t give a shit if it’s straight into hell," I growled. "We’re following it."

Before I mounted back up, I turned once more toward the blood symbol on the tree. My eyes narrowed.

It was a spiral circle, neatly clawed into the tree.

This wasn’t random.

It was a message.

They knew I’d come.

They wanted me to.

A trap.

A test?

Or worse—a distraction.

I snapped the bloody strip of fabric tighter in my hand, holding it to my nose one last time.

It wasn’t hers.

It was just something that was probably close to her or some stupid magic shit the tried to just pull on me.

But it could’ve been. Right now there’s enough time for them to carry out any plan they had.

And if whoever orchestrated this thought they could come anywhere near her...

They had no idea what kind of monster they just woke up.