Chapter 4: The Rogue Warrior

Calla’s POV

Pain.

It was the first thing I felt when I opened my eyes.

A gloomy, throbbing hurt beat through my body, emanating from the new wounds on my ribs and bear. My appendages felt like dead weight, and for a minute, I couldn't remember where I was—until the fragrance of blood and earth filled my nose.

The recollections came surging back.

The rebels. The battle. The dark-furred Alpha had torn through them like paper.

Kiernan Vale.

But he was gone.

And I was still here. Alone. Injured.

Alive.

Somehow.

I pushed myself up, gritting my teeth as torment flared in each inch of my body. The woodland around me was frightfully quiet presently, the stench of rebel blood still overwhelming the discussion.

I had to move.

I had no thought where I was going, but remained in one spot, a passing sentence.

I constrained myself to my feet, influencing somewhat. My vision obscured for a moment, but I breathed in strongly, willing the tipsiness to blur.

One step.

At that point, another.

The trees extended perpetually some time recently, a labyrinth of shadows and tangled roots. I had no supplies, no water, no security.

Fair my will to outlive.

Which had to be sufficient.

I had, as it was, been strolling for possibly an hour when I heard it.

A stirring within the bushes.

My beat spiked. My body strained, instinctual shouting at me to run. But I didn't. I couldn't manage to freeze.

Instep, I turned gradually, each muscle coiled, prepared to battle in case I had to.

A figure ventured out from the shadows.

Not a wolf. Not completely, at least.

A man.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with dim, wild hair that fell over sharp, precise highlights. His shirt was torn, his arms secured in scars—old and unused.

His golden-brown eyes glinted over me, calculating, evaluating.

A rogue.

My pulse beat in my ears. Was he getting to assault?

I moved somewhat, bracing myself.

But rather than thrusting, he lifted his hands in deriding yield.

“Relax, small wolf,” he drawled, his voice unpleasant but strangely calm. “I'm not here to slaughter you.”

I didn't unwind.

His lips quirked. “Well. Not unless you give me a reason to.”

I clenched my hands. “Who are you?”

He tilted his head, eyes flickering with something garbled. “Darius.”

The name meant nothing to me.

I gulped, still observing him. He didn't see, just like the rebels I had battled prior. There was no frantic starvation in his eyes, no stench of rot on his skin.

But he was still a rebel.

Which implied he was unsafe.

I lifted my chin. “What do you want?”

Darius let out a moo chuckle. “You're the one dying all over the put, sweetheart. Possibly the superior address is—what do you want?”

I glowered, but my body was influenced somewhat, shortcomings inching in.

He took note.

With an overstated moan, he ventured closer.

I jumped back.

His eyes contracted. “If I needed you dead, I wouldn't be standing here talking, would I?”

I despised that he had a point.

He examined me for another moment and, at that point, twitched his head toward the trees. “Come on.”

I scowled. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm taking you someplace safe.”

I barked out a laugh, though it was more from disbelief than humour. “Safe? With a rogue?”

Darius smiled. “Better than bleeding out within the centre of nowhere.”

I wavered.

Trusting him was doltish.

But what other choice did I have?

I took after Darius.

I kept some steps behind, observing his every move.

He drove me through the thick trees with practised ease, his body moving like he had a place there like the timberland was a portion of him.

I needed to inquire where he was taking me.

But my pride wouldn't let me.

We strolled in silence for a while, and at long last, we came to a little clearing.

A firepit. A couple of temporary covers.

A rebel camp.

My stomach clenched.

Darius must have detected my unease since he looked over his bear, grinning. “Relax. It's fair me.”

I limited my eyes. “You live out here?”

He shrugged. “Where else?”

I didn't have a reply to that.

Darius strolled to a heap of supplies and snatched a carafe, tossing it to me. “Drink.”

I caught it, wavering.

He murmured. “It's water. Not poison.”

I still faltered, but my thirst won. I took a little sip—then a bigger one, the cool liquid relieving my dry throat.

When I brought down the jar, I caught him observing me.

His look was distinctive presently. More honed.

“What?” I inquired.

Darius leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. “You're not fair to a few irregular rebels, are you?”

I solidified.

"I see how you fight there," he continued. "You have undergone training."

I am still silent.

Her eyes blurred with curiosity. "You were in one pack."

My handle tightened around the ball.

Darius Smiles. "And to evaluate you seem to tear my throat, I guess it didn't end up."

Anger broke out in my chest. I hate the easy thing he read for me.

I pushed the ball at him. "Thank you for the water."

I came back to leave.

But his next words stopped cold.

"You won't survive there."

I tighten my jaw. "Look at me."

Darius sighed, pushing the tree. "You are strong; I will give you that." But you are also injured. And alone.

I came back to face him. "And you say you are different?"

Something sparkling in his eyes. A shadow.

"I know what it looks like," he said, a lower voice now. "Be chased after. There is no place to go.

An hour of break.

later -

"I can help you."

My breath.

Help?

No one has suggested me before.

PA has no price.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice was alert.

Darius Smiles. "You are just."

I waited.

Then he sighed. “I have been alone for a long time, my lover. It becomes boring. He tilted his head. "You can use the protection." I can use a distraction.

I frowned. "A distraction?"

His sly smile opened. "Something to entertain me."

I laughed. "I'm not here to have fun."

"may not". His eyes were dark. "But if you want to live, you will need more stubbornness."

I hate that he was right.

I hate that I even considered it.

But I'm tired. Injured. And if I have learned something, it is survival that means making a choice.

Even the ones you didn’t want to make.

Finally, I exhaled. “Fine.”

Darius Smiles.

"Smart Girl".