Her Rogue wolf

Moonlight slashed through the dense canopy of the forest, bathing the earth in silver and shadow. Ivy Darkwood crouched low in the underbrush, her breath steady, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger. The scent of damp soil, pine, and something else-something wild-filled her lungs.

She wasn't alone.

A rogue was close.

Her instincts screamed it. The air was thick with that musky, untamed scent, laced with the unmistakable bite of danger. Ivy's grip tightened. Her Alpha had sent her to eliminate the threat before it crossed into pack lands, and she never failed a mission.

A twig snapped.

Ivy tensed, muscles coiling as she scanned the darkness. Her heart pounded a steady rhythm against her ribs, but her breathing remained controlled. Calculated. She had been trained for this since she could walk-to track, to hunt, to kill.

A shadow shifted between the trees.

Her dagger was in the air before she could think, slicing through the night. But just as it was about to hit its target, a blur of movement knocked it aside.

A growl rumbled through the silence. Low. Amused.

"Well, well. That's no way to say hello, little huntress."

The voice was deep, rough like gravel yet laced with undeniable charm.

Ivy didn't hesitate. She launched forward, her other blade drawn, but in a flash of movement, her wrist was caught in an iron grip.

She gasped, eyes locking onto the man before her.

Tall. Broad. Shirtless.

His body was all lean muscle and raw strength, marred with scars that told stories of battles hard-won. His dark hair was wild, tousled by the wind, and his sharp, angular face was shadowed by a dangerous smirk. But it was his eyes-golden and burning with mischief-that held her captive.

A rogue.

Jaxon Emberfang.

Ivy's lips curled into a snarl. "Let. Me. Go."

Jaxon cocked his head, clearly amused by her fury. "Now, why would I do that? You were the one throwing knives at me. Shouldn't I be the one demanding answers?"

Ivy wrenched her arm free, stepping back, blade raised. "You're a rogue."

His smirk deepened. "Guilty as charged."

"That means you're a threat."

He sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. "See, that's the problem with you pack wolves. Always thinking in black and white. What if I told you I wasn't here to cause trouble?"

Ivy narrowed her eyes. "Then I'd call you a liar."

Jaxon grinned, sharp and wicked. "Smart girl."

Before she could react, he moved-fast, too fast. One moment he was in front of her, the next he was behind, his breath warm against her ear.

"But you don't really want to kill me, do you?" he murmured.

Ivy spun, slashing her blade. He dodged easily, his body moving like liquid shadow, and the worst part? He was toying with her.

Her blood boiled.

"You think this is a game?" she snapped.

Jaxon leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. "Everything's a game, sweetheart. The question is... are you playing to win?"

Ivy lunged again, but this time he caught her wrist mid-strike, twisting her around so her back was flush against his chest. Heat radiated from him, his grip unyielding but not painful.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

"Let me go," she gritted out.

Jaxon chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "You keep saying that, but your heart's racing, Ivy."

Her breath hitched.

No. No.

He wasn't supposed to know her name.

"How do you-"

Jaxon leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I make it a point to know who's hunting me."

Ivy's stomach twisted. He knew her. Had been tracking her just as she had tracked him.

A rogue. Tracking a hunter.

Unacceptable.

Snarling, she twisted in his grip, driving her knee up. He dodged-barely-but it was enough. She broke free, blade at the ready, heart hammering against her ribs.

Jaxon held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Damn. You really don't like losing, do you?"

"This isn't a game," she snapped. "You're trespassing on Silverfang territory. That means I have every right to kill you."

His smirk faltered, just for a second.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice losing its teasing edge. "And if I told you I had every right to be here?"

Ivy hesitated.

Just for a breath.

And that hesitation was dangerous.

Because Jaxon saw it.

And he smiled.

Jaxon's golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight, his smirk returning in full force. He stepped toward her-slow, deliberate, like a predator savoring the chase.

Ivy held her ground, blade steady, though her pulse pounded hard against her skin. "You have no right to be here," she said, voice sharp. "Rogues don't get rights."

Jaxon chuckled, dark and amused. "Is that what your pack tells you?" He tilted his head, studying her. "You say 'rogues' like we're all the same, like we don't have pasts, reasons, stories. But you... you're smarter than that, aren't you, Ivy?"

Her fingers twitched against the hilt of her dagger. The way he said her name-smooth, knowing-unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

"You don't know a damn thing about me," she snapped.

Jaxon arched a brow. "No? I know you're fast, but not faster than me. I know you hesitate when you should strike. I know your heart's racing right now, but not from fear."

Ivy's grip tightened. "You're insufferable."

His grin widened. "And yet, here you are, still talking to me instead of putting that knife between my ribs."

Because you saved my life.

The thought burned in her skull. She hadn't forgotten. Two nights ago, she'd been tracking another rogue when she was blindsided-outnumbered, nearly overpowered. And then he appeared.

Jaxon had ripped through them like a storm, blood and claws flashing under the moon. And when the last rogue fell, he turned to her... and walked away.

Rogues didn't do that.

They didn't save pack wolves.

They didn't leave without a fight.

And yet, Jaxon Emberfang had done both.

Ivy's voice was low, edged with suspicion. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

Jaxon's smirk faded.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes-something unreadable, something that made Ivy's breath hitch despite herself.

"I don't kill for sport," he said simply.

She searched his face, looking for the lie. Rogues were ruthless. She'd seen the bodies, the massacres. They were merciless scavengers, living only for themselves.

So why was this one different?

Why did he make her question everything?

Jaxon took another step closer, and this time, Ivy didn't move back.

"You're not afraid of me," he murmured. "You should be. Every instinct in you is screaming that I'm the enemy, and yet, here we are."

Ivy swallowed hard, but her voice remained steady. "Maybe I just don't see you as a threat."

Jaxon laughed softly. "Oh, sweetheart." His hand lifted-slow enough that she could stop him, but she didn't. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek. The contact was brief, barely there, but it sent a pulse of heat through her veins.

"You should," he whispered.

Ivy exhaled sharply. She should step away, should remind herself who she was, who he was.

But her feet stayed rooted in place.

Her dagger was still in her grip, but she wasn't using it.

And Jaxon Emberfang?

He was watching her like he knew.

Like he could feel the war raging inside her.

A rustling in the trees shattered the moment.

Ivy snapped her head toward the sound, senses flaring. Jaxon cursed under his breath.

"We have company," he muttered.

Ivy didn't hesitate. She spun toward the noise, body tensed for a fight.

A low, guttural growl rumbled through the darkness.

Not a rogue. Not yet.

Pack wolves.

Hunting him.

Jaxon let out a slow breath. "Guess this is where you decide, huntress."

Ivy's fingers clenched around her blade. She should let them take him. Should step aside and do her duty.

But her heart was a traitor.

And her choice?

Already made.

Ivy's heart hammered in her chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. The pack wolves were close, their scents mingling with the fresh earth and the lingering musk of Jaxon's presence. There was no time left for hesitation.

"Stay behind me," Ivy ordered, voice cold and authoritative. She didn't wait for his response before stepping forward, every muscle in her body coiled, ready for what came next.

Jaxon's voice was low, laced with a hint of something dangerous. "I don't take orders."

She barely spared him a glance. "You do when your life depends on it."

With a flash of movement, Ivy was in front of him, her back to his, standing firm. She'd trained for this-fought off multiple attackers before. But this wasn't just a hunt. This wasn't just a mission.

This was a rogue.

And somehow, that changed everything.

The first wolf emerged from the shadows, his fur a dark, bristling mass that glinted with the reflection of the moon. He growled low, sizing Ivy up, his eyes narrowed in challenge.

Ivy raised her dagger in a defensive stance. "Get back, I'll handle this."

But the rogue wasn't listening. He lunged, teeth bared, and Ivy danced to the side, twisting just enough to avoid the worst of the attack. Her dagger slashed across his flank, drawing blood, but he only snarled and pivoted, coming at her again.

Jaxon's voice came from behind her, calm and almost mocking. "You know, you're making this way harder than it needs to be."

She glanced over her shoulder, fury flashing in her eyes. "Not now."

But before she could turn back, she felt a ripple in the air, a shift-a second rogue launching himself from the tree line, aiming straight for Jaxon. Ivy barely had time to react.

"Jaxon!" she shouted.

Without missing a beat, Jaxon stepped forward, his movement fluid, faster than Ivy could track. He collided with the second rogue midair, sending them both crashing to the ground. Ivy's breath caught in her throat as she watched him fight-effortless, brutal, a force of nature.

But Ivy didn't have time to admire him. The first rogue was back on his feet, charging toward her again. She sidestepped, barely in time, her blade finding the rogue's shoulder as she whirled. He yelped, backing away, but Ivy was on him in an instant. The pack wolves weren't known for their speed, but their strength... that was something Ivy couldn't afford to underestimate.

A snap of teeth.

Ivy's foot caught the rogue in the ribs, sending him sprawling backward. But before she could press the advantage, she heard the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against stone.

Another wolf.

Ivy's pulse quickened, her eyes darting toward the source. But before she could move, a sharp pain exploded in her side-a piercing jab of teeth sinking into her flesh.

Her breath hitched as the rogue pulled away, blood staining her shirt.

Damn it.

"Stay down," she hissed, her voice thick with pain, but the rogue didn't listen. He snarled again, aiming for her throat this time, more vicious, more determined.

But then, without warning, a shadow swept past her, and she heard a bone-crushing impact.

Jaxon.

His body slammed into the rogue, sending him careening into the underbrush. The rogue yelped, skidding to a halt a few yards away, but Jaxon didn't give him the chance to recover. With a low growl, he lunged.

Ivy gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay upright. She ignored the bleeding gash in her side, ignored the dizziness creeping into her vision. There was no time for weakness.

She spun to face the first rogue again, but when she saw Jaxon tearing into the second, she felt a flicker of something else-something she couldn't name.

There was a power to the way he fought. A grace, an intensity that seemed so unnatural, like he was born for this-born to be a weapon. Ivy shook her head, trying to focus.

Focus.

She moved in, her blade flashing in the moonlight as she drove it deep into the first rogue's chest. He gasped, his eyes wide, before collapsing at her feet. The fight went out of him in an instant.

Ivy stood over him, chest heaving. Blood dripped from her side, and her hand trembled as she wiped it against her pant leg. But she didn't let herself falter. Not now.

The sound of claws on stone pulled her back to Jaxon. He was wrestling with the last rogue, his back to her, teeth bared, the savage gleam in his eyes unmistakable.

But the rogue wasn't backing down.

And Ivy knew-knew-she couldn't let this go on.

She moved swiftly, closing the distance between them, her breath coming in sharp bursts. When the rogue lunged for Jaxon's throat, Ivy didn't hesitate. She darted forward, thrusting her dagger into the rogue's exposed flank.

The wolf howled, writhing in agony, but Ivy didn't let go. She twisted the blade, deepening the wound.

With a final, guttural cry, the rogue slumped to the ground.

Ivy pulled back, her breath ragged as she wiped the blood off her blade, feeling the weight of the battle settle on her shoulders.

Jaxon stood a few feet away, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His golden eyes found hers, a flicker of something dark passing between them. He wiped the blood from his lips, his voice a low growl. "You're not bad for a pack hunter."

Ivy shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. "Don't get used to it."

"Don't worry," he murmured, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not the type to need help."

The tension between them was thick, raw. Ivy's heart was still racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins, but there was something else now-a pull. A crack in her armor, something she couldn't deny.

But she wouldn't let it take hold. Not now. Not with everything at stake.

"We need to leave," she said, her voice cool and commanding.

Jaxon's gaze held hers for a beat longer than it should have, but then he nodded. "Lead the way, hunter."

Ivy turned on her heel, heading toward the dense trees, but something-some unspoken energy-seemed to follow them through the night. The war between them wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

But in that moment, Ivy couldn't help but wonder just how long it would take before their fates collided. Again.