Chapter 4 The Chosen One

The fire burned low, casting shadows across the warriors gathered around. The scent of blood was thick in the air-his blood.

Alaric sat still, his wounds fresh, his muscles tense. The rogues surrounded him, their eyes sharp, their voices low with unease.

No one had ever injured him before.

Until Selene.

Jarek, his second-in-command, stepped closer. His face was unreadable, but his voice was edged with disbelief. "She drew blood from you."

Alaric didn't respond.

Jarek's eyes narrowed. "You've fought Alphas and never bled. You've crushed warriors without breaking a sweat. But that girl-" He pointed toward the trees. "She almost ripped you apart."

Alaric exhaled slowly. The fire flickered, reflecting in his golden eyes.

"She is stronger than she knows."

The warriors exchanged uneasy glances.

Kai, the youngest of them, frowned. "She lost control."

Alaric smirked. "Good."

Kai blinked. "Good?"

Alaric's voice was firm. "She is not weak. Not broken. She is chosen."

The camp went silent.

Jarek crossed his arms. "Chosen by who?"

Alaric met his stare. "The Moon Goddess."

A sharp breath. A shift in the air. The warriors stiffened.

Jarek scoffed. "You think that exile is special?"

Alaric tilted his head. "I don't think. I know." His voice was low, firm. "And I will mark her."

Gasps. Some disbelief. Some fear.

Kai stepped forward. "Then let us go after her. She's alone. She's weak."

Alaric's gaze turned cold.

"No."

Kai froze. "But-"

"She will survive."

His voice was final. Ruthless.

Jarek clenched his jaw. "She could die."

Alaric's lips curled into a cold smirk. "Then she was never worthy to begin with."

Silence. No one dared to argue.

Alaric stood, his golden eyes burning.

"She is stronger than she thinks she is."

Then, without another word, he walked into the darkness, leaving them behind.

The wind howled through the trees, cold and sharp like a blade against Selene's skin. She stood in the heart of the dark forest, her body trembling from exhaustion. Her legs ached, her muscles burned, and her throat was raw from thirst.

For three days, she had wandered.

For three days, she had survived.

The hunger clawed at her stomach, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

Her father's face-lifeless, broken, abandoned.

Darius's smirk as he left his corpse for the rogues to feast on.

The betrayal burned inside her, hotter than any fire.

She should have died out here.

She should have given up.

But she didn't.

Because Alaric was right.

She was stronger than she thought.

The weak girl who had begged for her mate's love, who had pleaded for mercy from her pack, was dead.

Now, there was only her.

And vengeance.

Selene took a deep breath, pushing past the pain, the hunger, the grief. She turned, forcing her feet forward, step by agonizing step.

Back to the only place that had ever made her strong.

Back to Alaric.

The rogue camp was alive with the glow of firelight, the scent of burning wood thick in the air. Warriors sharpened their blades, their laughter low and rough, the sounds of a life that did not know weakness.

Then-silence.

A ripple passed through the camp as Selene stepped into the clearing.

The rogues turned, their eyes wide, their expressions unreadable. Some looked impressed. Others looked wary.

She was barely standing. Dirt and dried blood streaked her skin. Her once-beautiful hair was tangled, her clothes torn.

But she was here.

And Alaric-

Alaric smiled.

Not just any smile.

A slow, wicked smirk.

He did not rush to her. Did not reach out to steady her. Did not offer pity.

Because she didn't need it.

She had survived.

Alaric rose to his full height, golden eyes gleaming under the moonlight. Then, in a voice that sent chills down the spines of even the hardest warriors, he turned his gaze to the full moon and spoke.

"I, Alaric, ruler of rogues, take Selene as my mate."

The weight of his words crashed over the camp like a storm. The warriors shifted, glancing at one another in shock. Some inhaled sharply. Others remained frozen, waiting.

"I accept her into my wolf, into my blood, into my pack."

The power in his voice made the night tremble.

Selene's breath hitched. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

She had fought. She had bled. She had suffered.

And now, she was being claimed.

The rogues turned to her.

Waiting.

Alaric's golden eyes never left her.

Waiting.

Selene's fingers curled into fists at her sides.

This was insane. This was impossible. This was-

Right.

The pack that had abandoned her was nothing to her now.

This was her new beginning.

She lifted her chin, ignoring the pain in her body, forcing her voice to be strong.

"I, Selene, accept Alaric ruler of the rogues to be my mate"

The camp erupted.

Cheers, howls, voices rising in a deafening roar.

And as the sound swallowed her, Selene felt something shift deep inside her.

Something powerful.

Something dangerous.

She was no longer just an exile.

She was one of them.