Twin Alphas' Rogue

"I, Wyatt Vega, Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, hereby cast out Briana Knight from our ranks and protection!"

The moment his declaration echoed through the clearing, searing pain erupted in my chest. It felt like someone had thrust their hand through my ribs and was slowly unraveling the threads connecting me to everything I'd ever known. The pack bond—that invisible tether that had anchored me my entire life—snapped like a brittle twig.

Emptiness flooded me. One heartbeat I was Briana Vega, omega of the Blood Moon pack. The next, I was Briana Knight, nothing but a rogue. Nameless. Packless. Prey.

"Please!" I collapsed to my knees, the damp earth soaking through my jeans. "I've done nothing to deserve this!"

My pleas dissolved into the cold morning air. No one moved to help me. No one dared meet my gaze except Daisy and Nora, huddled together at the edge of the gathering, tears streaming down their faces. Even they couldn't intervene—omegas like us held no voice in pack matters.

Wyatt raised his chin, addressing the assembled wolves. "Those who stand with me in removing this... disappointment... from our bloodline, declare it now."

"We stand with you!" The unified roar of my former packmates hammered against me like physical blows.

I searched the crowd for my parents, finding them seated in places of honor beside Wyatt. Their faces remained impassive, as though watching a stranger's punishment rather than their daughter's exile. Four years of their cold shoulders since my fourteenth birthday when I failed to shift had prepared me for this betrayal, but the finality of it still cut deep.

The pack's gamma stalked toward me, his boots stopping inches from my splayed fingers. "Twenty minutes, rogue. That's all you get before we hunt you down like the worthless omega you are." His boot connected with my ribs, sending me sprawling.

White-hot pain exploded through my side. I tasted blood and dirt as I gasped for breath. The gamma leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "Your parents are embarrassed they produced such a failure. An eighteen-year-old who shifts into an omega? The Beta bloodline deserved better."

I knew then that staying even one minute longer meant death. Drawing on reserves I didn't know I possessed, I staggered to my feet and did the only thing left to me.

I ran.

Forty-eight hours of non-stop flight had reduced me to something barely human. My muscles screamed with each step. My throat burned from thirst. The thin jacket I'd been wearing during my banishment offered little protection against the autumn chill.

The cruel reality of rogue life had become brutally clear during those two days. We were the unwanted, the discarded—fair game for anyone with fangs or weapons. Packs viewed us as criminals, vampires hunted us for sport, witches captured us for experiments, and human hunters tracked us for trophies. Even other rogues—especially the hardened ones who'd survived years in the wild—saw newcomers like me as easy targets.

When my legs finally refused another step, I collapsed beneath a towering oak. Its gnarled roots provided a momentary sanctuary as I leaned against the rough bark, drawing ragged breaths into my burning lungs.

The memories I'd been outrunning caught up to me all at once.

For four years, I'd endured being the pack's punching bag. The late shifter. The defect. My parents had gone from doting to distant overnight when I failed to shift at fourteen like everyone else. The pack followed their lead—isolation gave way to torment, torment to outright abuse.

Then, against all odds, my wolf finally emerged on my eighteenth birthday. For one glorious moment, I thought everything would change. My parents had actually smiled at me, the first warmth they'd shown in years.

But when my shift completed and revealed an omega wolf—small, reddish-brown, and utterly ordinary—their expressions had hardened once more. In a family of proud betas stretching back generations, I was the ultimate disappointment. Not just late, but wrong.

And now I was nothing. Less than nothing. A rogue with hours, maybe days to live.

"I don't understand," I whispered to the indifferent forest. "What did I do to deserve this?"

The snap of a twig jerked me from my self-pity. I froze, every sense suddenly alert.

"Well, well! Looks like we found ourselves a fresh one, Damon."

Two men emerged from the underbrush, their clothes tattered and filthy, their eyes gleaming with a predatory light I recognized immediately. Rogues. The dangerous kind.

"She's pretty," the second man—Damon—said, licking his cracked lips. "Even all dirty like that."

Terror jolted through me like electricity. This was it. This was how my story ended—torn apart by fellow outcasts in some nameless stretch of wilderness. I hadn't even lived long enough to find my mate.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as the unfairness of it all crashed over me. Late shifter. Omega wolf. Banished rogue. And now, dead after just two days of freedom.

But something stubborn flared inside me. If I was going to die, I wouldn't make it easy for them.

My hand closed around a fallen branch as the first man approached. When he reached for me, I swung with all my remaining strength, connecting with his temple. He staggered backward, cursing.

I scrambled to my feet, but before I could take three steps, Damon tackled me from behind. The world spun as he hurled me against the oak tree. Something cracked in my back, and my legs went numb.

"You'll regret that, bitch," the first man snarled, blood trickling down his face where I'd struck him. "By the time we're finished—"

A bone-chilling growl cut through the forest, silencing everything—even the birds.

The rogues froze, their faces draining of color. Three massive wolves emerged from the trees behind them—one silver, one black, and one deep russet. They were enormous, far larger than any wolves I'd ever seen in my pack.

The rogues backed away from me, hands raised. "We didn't know she was claimed," the first one stammered. "We're leaving. Right now."

They turned to flee, but the silver wolf lunged forward in a blur of movement. A sickening crunch, a gurgled scream, and then silence. The black wolf dispatched the second rogue with equal efficiency.

As darkness began creeping into the edges of my vision, the russet wolf approached. Before my eyes, it shifted into a man—tall, powerful, with kind eyes that belied the violence I'd just witnessed.

He knelt beside me, his warm hand gentle against my cheek.

"We've got you," he whispered. "You're safe now."

The world faded to black.