The Rogue is a Female Alpha novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Zephyrine

In a blur, my fingers hooked beneath it before it touched the ground. The weight should have dragged me down, but I spun my wrist, momentum flowing with me instead of against me, and in the next breath, the vessel was cradled back in the crook of my arm, steady and unharmed.

The air shifted with the speed of my movement, rattling the glass lamp above.

A guard muttered under his breath,

“I didn’t even see her bend. She was so fast.”

It was over in a heartbeat, but the silence that followed was heavier than stone.

Pamela’s eyes flickered with confusion, then unease. Wolves weren’t supposed to move like that. Not without years of training.

I straightened slowly, meeting their stares, my voice low and cold.

“Touch this vessel again, and you will answer to me.”

Without waiting for a response, I clutched the vessel tighter, turned on my heel, and walked out into the rain. Into the dark. Alone.

A funeral for fallen Ashmere is sacred. Until the rite can be held, I rented a niche in the Memorial Hall, the Moonstone Vessel placed in a sealed alcove.

My hair dripped, clothes damp, cheeks salted by rain and tears. I knelt to pay my respects; when I straightened, I whispered a

VOW.

“I promise you, Mom, Dad. I will find Varyn, and when I do, we’ll both return to honor you. Only then will a funeral be held for you both.”

I lingered over the vessel, then locked the chamber and headed for the exit, my heart heavier than stone.

The corridor’s draft drags me into memory.

Five years ago, a new portal yawned open, demons pouring through. Warriors and Ashmere blood was summoned. My parents answered; my brother, Varyn too.

They’d danced the night before for their twenty–fifth anniversary. The next dawn they donned armor, kissed me goodbye, and promised letters when the war was done.

My brother kissed me farewell, and promised a new medal when the war finished.

However, Three weeks later a stamped death scroll lay on my doorstep.

Warlord Vale gone. Commander Seraphine gone. Varyn missing.

That was when my whole world shattered but Grief is a luxury an Ashmere cannot afford.

An imperial command arrived. One last assault to seal the portal. A new commander was needed. I took the mantle, led the charge, and by Moon–goddess grace, I won. The portal closed, but something in me never reopened.

I grieved my family. My loved ones.

During that period of time, beneath full moonlight, I met my mate, Nyroth Hue. He wiped my tears. Proposed and Promised. That had clouded me.

I decided to honor my parent greatest wish and that is for me to get married.

I hung up my armor, stamped the retirement scroll and leave everything behind, as well as my old home, which reminded

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me of a happiness I could never feel again.

Werewolves splintered into packs, each ruled by an Alpha. But Lycans bowed to one king. That king was infamous for brutality, and his heir… cursed, rumor claimed. The heir who never left the obsidian castle and its black tower, yet here he was tonight.

My gaze caught on his, and impossibly, his head lifted. Pale eyes locked on mine across the courtyard. For one suspended heartbeat, the storm held its breath.

Then a mourner’s whisper shattered the spell.

“My goodness… it’s the Lycan prince!”

“Poor soul. His father died this evening. He’s here to cremate the king.”

“Poor soul? Did he look like someone who is mourning? Please.”

Cold shivers raced my spine. The Lycan King dead? That meant Apex Blood would ascend the throne. A cursed, ruthless monarch.

My heart thudded. I watched Apex stride into the lamplight shadows before closing my eyes against the sudden pulse of a mind link. Nyroth. Self–centered. As always.

Where are you, Zeph? Come home. Don’t make it a scandal just because of a little issue. I have something important to tell

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you.

I opened my eyes and stared into the blank space ahead with a sigh.

Perhaps I, too, had something important to discuss about a five–year mate bond. About us.

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