Luna of Rogues - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

The next few days passed in a blur of disbelief and preparations. I was still trying to wrap my head around everything Fion had told me, but I didn't think a lifetime would be long enough to make sense of it all. So partially to distract myself and partially because I needed to, I organised the trip to Ember Pack. That involved more work than you'd think — everything from route planning to packing.
But I did forget to choose the other eleven fighters until a minute before we were due to leave.
"I can ask around," Ollie assured me. "It shouldn't be too difficult."
I zipped and unzipped my jacket. "Well, they need to be ready to go now. Like right now. Oh — and make sure that everyone's unmated or their mates are coming too. I don't want to bereave anyone."
Rhys arrived, having said goodbye to Maggie. She wasn't thrilled that we were leaving. I had already received my hour-long lecture on safety and caution. But she understood why it was necessary. Every day that passed, more wolves from Ember were being stripped of their humanity, and that only added to the ferals we would have to fight.
My second counted our tiny group — Leo, Rhys, Fion and me. "So as you four are going and I have to stay behind, do you need eight more?"
"Nine," I corrected. "Fion is staying here."
There was no way she could risk the baby in a fight, she'd told me. Whether she had chosen to carry that child or not, she thought she still had a responsibility to take care of it. Which meant I would spend the next week deprived of my sister's genius. But this way I could rest assured knowing that Last Haven would be safe in her — and Ollie's — capable hands.
Rhys and Leo knew this already, or they would have kicked up a bigger fuss. It had been explained as a personal decision, based on Fion's wishes. I already knew Rhys, at least, didn't believe it. Although we had explained none of that bullshit to Ollie, he just raised his eyebrows and didn't comment.
"Okay ... nine fighters."
"And make sure they know there's a good chance we'll die slowly and painfully," Rhys added. "Anyone who volunteers after that is brave enough for me."
Ollie rolled his eyes. "Fine. Nine suicidal killing machines. Just don't blame me if they're all nutcases."
He grinned in that careless way and slung his arm over his friend's shoulder. "At least nutcases contain nuts. You're just a pansy, Oll."
"Hey, I asked to come. Skye's the one who said no."
"Yes, I did," I agreed. "Because you two give me headaches when you're together. Now say goodbye, boys, and find a way to cope with the separation anxiety."
It was worth it, just to see their looks of disgust and the way they jumped apart. Leo, Fion and I made sure to have a long laugh at their expense, while Ollie quickly excused himself to round up the troops.
Someone nudged my shoulder and I glanced around to see a familiar smirking face. "Did I hear something about slow and painful deaths?" Ryker asked. As usual, I didn't have to look far past him to see Emmett. Those two seemed inseparable.
"Oh yeah," Rhys said, "very dangerous mission — we won't all survive."
Emmett nodded amiably. "Count us in, please. It's been getting boring around here."
"Sure. Welcome aboard."
It was then that Ollie returned, herding a group of people towards us. I wasn't surprised to see these particular volunteers — the twins, Tally and Sophie, all of whom had proved themselves in both training and real combat. Sophie's presence unnerved me, though. Every glimpse of her misery and loneliness reminded me exactly whose fault it was.
"We need three more."
"I can count, thank you, Rhys," Ollie muttered.
"Try Aaron," he advised heedlessly. "He's always up for a fight."
My second-in-command looked doubtfully at the raider, who was lounging on a parapet, and sighed. "Around here, who isn't?"
He left again, and I tapped my foot while I waited. An hour — that's how long I had been standing in the courtyard with a packed rucksack at my feet. It was stuffed with everything from food to clothes to cash. Maggie herself had prepared enough supplies to last a week in the wilderness so we wouldn't have to hunt. And as for weapons ... my knife had a new friend — one of Brandon's leftover guns. A last resort, and one I hoped not to use.
I had wanted to bring my armour, but the extra weight was significant. As it was, I had too much to carry. And we would be running to Ember in wolf form because cars weren't really an option. There were no roads in that part of the forest which didn't pass through feral-held land.
Aaron followed Ollie back, along with a nameless buddy from camp and a kid — Oh. It was Owen. And I loved that boy, but I wasn't sure this was right for him. We needed ruthless killers, not kindly pups. It seemed Ollie had reached the same conclusion.
"You aren't old enough," he was saying. "You're barely an initiate, let alone ready for a suicide mission. Stay here and keep training. Your time will come."
The boy set his jaw defiantly, and for the first time, I saw a shadow of his famous brother in him. Aaron was imposingly tall and broad-shouldered, and there was almost a haughty cast to his features, while Owen was still growing and round-faced. But in that moment, both of them shared a certain ... aggression. And maybe even a glimmer of their father.
"I'm ready for this," Owen insisted. "And I'm not afraid to die."
He reminded me of Rhys and myself at that age. Young, headstrong, and raring for a fight. And Rhodric — much to his credit — had let us run riot until the phase passed. But he had always been there, a few steps behind, to make sure we didn't get our throats ripped out. I wasn't sure I could do the same for Owen in the chaos of fighting ferals.
"Skye," Ollie said beseechingly. Looking for backup. I knew he had taken the kid under his wing to some extent. No doubt this newfound bravado worried him.
I glanced at Rhys, but he just shrugged. I would get no help there. As far as he was concerned, Owen could do whatever the hell he wanted as long as he accepted the consequences. Rhodric's son through and through. I tried Leo instead and received a tiny shake of the head. So. One vote to one. Bloody useless boys.
"Don't suppose you have an opinion?" I invited Aaron, who shrugged.
"The kid wants to. And last time I checked, kids do what they want around here. Or has that changed?" He spoke pointedly, and I knew it was a challenge. He wanted to know how much I took after Rhodric. And how could I possibly shirk away from that?
"Of course not. I'd prefer that Owen stayed here," I admitted. "But it's his choice and I can't stop him."
And I couldn't. Owen had to be free to make his own mistakes or he could never grow up. He had decided to come along, and now I just had to make sure he survived to learn his lesson.
Ollie set his shoulders, although I didn't fail to notice how warily he watched Aaron. It was almost amusing how the reputation of the raiders affected the other rogues. Like celebrities ... or worse. "I don't like this. It'll never end well — can't you see that?"
Aaron just half-smiled and threw a look at his little brother. Your battle, he was saying. Owen loosed a long breath, gathering courage, and looked at me beseechingly. "I'm sixteen. That's old enough to fight."
"Old enough to die?" I asked harshly.
A pause. "Yes ... if it comes to that."
"It will come to that," Leo assured him mildly.
My second scowled some more. "Yes. So this is your last chance to —"
"Oll, it's okay," Rhys intervened before we could waste any more time. "We'll look after him."
Owen bristled. "I don't need looking after," he insisted in a slightly shaky voice.
He grinned again, honest and cheerful. "Even better. We need some young blood. Ten quid says you'll be just fine, kid."
"I'll take that bet," Aaron said teasingly. His brother shoved him, playing along.
They looked happy enough. But a terrible coil of foreboding was winding in my stomach. The decision was already made — and it wasn't mine to make. Whatever happened from here, it was on Owen. His life, his choice. Or so I tried to tell myself. It had always been harder for me; I wasn't reckless by blood.
Then it was time to leave. Already, we had lingered too long. The sun was up — time was trickling away. I wanted to be deep into the forest by nightfall, in case there were more ferals around than the scouts had indicated. As their reports stood, the way to Ember should have been entirely clear. I wasn't sure I believed it.
"We'll be off now," I told Ollie. "Look after them for me."
That was accompanied by a vague gesture at the rogues who had gathered to see us off. There were more than I had expected — over a hundred. Not bad, considering that most of the others were asleep or working.
He smiled, oddly reassuring. "Look after yourselves."
I hugged him for that, much to his dismay, but of course Rhys wouldn't leave so easily. He said, "Don't worry about it — I'm going with them."
"Even you can't single-handedly fight an army," Ollie scoffed. "Any problems and you just swallow your pride and call us, alright?"
Rhys's grin didn't exactly inspire confidence then. Though if I was being honest, I had the same reservations about asking for help.
"He won't," Leo sighed. "But I will. Try not to lose any sleep."
Fion's turn next. Rhys turned to her. "Be good."
I found myself grinning too. "And if you can't be good —"
She prodded both of us in the stomach. "Don't get caught. I know. That goes for you two as well."
We had a lingering farewell hug which turned into a wrestling match — somehow, that always happened. Fion won when Rhys tripped over an uneven paving stone and knocked me sideways. And when we both quite finished swearing at each other, we shifted on the spot. My clothes were shredded, but changing just wasn't as dramatic.
I surveyed the people watching. The crowd was spread out over the entire courtyard. Children sat on their parent's shoulders for the best view, teenagers perched on the castle walls and a sea of expectant faces had gathered before us. All of it called to the wolf in me. Home. Family.
Some long-buried instinct tugged at my gut. And even though the moon wasn't out, let alone full, I lifted my muzzle to the sky and howled. The wolves around me echoed it, each adding their own melodies. The harmony was full of defiance and hope in equal measures.
The twelve of us left camp to whoops and cheers, never guessing the shitstorm that lay ahead.
***
Our run was calm and tranquil. I could let my wolf worry about breathing and moving and all that boring shit and simply enjoy the woodland scenery. And with a dusting of snow still covering everything, it was worth enjoying. That was the first part of the journey. It lasted five minutes.
I had made a bet with Leo about how long it would take Rhys to get bored and start mucking around. He said an hour. I said when we lost sight of the castle. It may not surprise you to learn that I won with no shortage of time to spare.
Tripping us up, kicking snow in our faces and tackling us into bushes were some of Rhys's many ways of entertaining himself. And when I say us, I actually mean me because, as he put it, I was the easiest to annoy. It quickly became apparent that if I got through this trip without throttling him, it would be a miracle.
"When we get to Ember," Rhys began through the link, "what exactly are we going to do?"
I surmised that he was bored again and now trying to annoy me mentally as well as physically.
"Kill ferals. Fight shit. The usual."
"So there's no plan?" he checked.
I snorted aloud. "When have we ever bothered making a plan, Rhys?"
The equivalent of a mental shrug. "I just feel like maybe, as we're adults and all now, we should be, I don't know, responsible?"
It was certainly an interesting concept. And not one I'd ever thought about before. He was right, though — I was eighteen now. Should I start considering the consequences of my actions? Nah. "Well, you're technically still a pup. So let us adults worry about that and just concentrate on ripping out throats, mkay?
Rhys snapped at my hindquarters playfully but then fell silent. It was only after another mile of running had passed, too late, that I realised the question he had been trying to ask. Now that Dad's not here, should we be looking after ourselves? He can't do it for us anymore.
I shoved down my frustration and resolved that once the ferals were dead, we would go hunting for Rhodric Llewellyn. To whatever end.
***
The sun had touched the horizon before we stopped running. By my reckoning, we had covered more than thirty miles. Half the distance. Now, in the foothills around Ember, the twins had scouted a good place to camp for the night. It was a sheltered gully adjacent to the trail we had been following.
I was the first to shift, safely out of sight behind a giant beech tree. The clothes in my rucksack proved both warm and comfortable, all credit to Fion. But when I dug out my boots, my wolf noticed muffled footsteps beating a steady tempo nearby.
"Hello?" I asked warily and simultaneously brushed the mind-link. "If that's you, Rhys, I swear to the Goddess —"
His responding curiosity was too overpowering not to be genuine. My hand flitted to the knife handle just as someone bellowed, "Good evening!"
I whirled around, only to come face-to-face with a group of hikers. An odd tang stung my nose — not a smell I was used to. Humans. Just humans.
"Sorry," one man said genuinely. "I didn't mean to scare you."
And all I could think was that if he had been a feral, I wouldn't be breathing. Careless and stupid — that's what it was. From now on, I decided we would shift back in pairs. Awkward, but so much safer.
"You didn't," I lied.
Their eyes raked over me. Taking in everything from the tattered, dark clothes to the rucksack spilling its contents over the ground. I grimaced. Let them think whatever the hell they want.
"Are you alright?" another asked cautiously. His concern was understandable. It was not every day that you stumbled upon a teenager standing barefoot in a snowy forest. All alone.
"Oh yeah — fine. I was just ... I was getting a stone out of my shoe." I winced as the words came out so slow and jumbled. I had been taught better than this. I could lie better than this, when I wasn't so damn worn out.
The voices must have attracted attention. Leo, who must have felt alarm through the mate bond as well, came over to investigate the sounds. It was unfortunate really, that he had also been shifting. His shirt was missing and his belt was undone. I took note with equal cringing and satisfaction that my safety was prioritised over public decency.
I chuckled nervously. "I promise, this is not what it looks like."
Leo looked between the hikers and me, realising his mistake. "Shit. Um, sorry."
While I made a show of shaking my boots until the tiniest piece of grit fell out, the female of the group stared at me with unmasked disapproval. I really did try not to snarl at her. Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, my brother arrived with a gun openly stuck in the waistband of his jeans and the other nine fighters in tow. None of them looked the slightest bit friendly.
That judgemental woman let out a whimper. Her friends took several hurried steps back, eyes wide and fearful. I supposed I couldn't blame them. Guns weren't seen in Britain, not ever. As it was, I could only guess how Brandon had got hold of them.
Leo spread his hands out in a placating gesture. "Whoa now. Let's just chill out. He's not going to shoot you."
"I'm not?" Rhys asked innocently. I wished futilely that I was close enough to hit him as those words had their intended effect. One of the hikers actually turned and ran. The others looked ready to follow his example.
"No, you're not," my mate hissed. "It's cool, I swear. Nobody's going to hurt you."
I made an expression somewhere between a grimace and embarrassment.
"Sure..." the first man said uncertainly. "Well, we should probably be going."
"Nice to meet you!" I called out as they essentially ran from us.
We stood still until the sounds of their escape had long faded. Then I punched my brother's arm and hissed, "You're a brainless dipshit, you know that? The police will hear about armed gangs in the woods and before you know it, the entire firearms unit will be on our asses."
Rhys's eyes narrowed. "Ouch. What're you hitting me for? We'll be long gone by then."
I sighed. "Yes, but what happens if they find the castle, doofus? There are guns and homemade bombs all over the place. They'll think we're some kind of militia at the best, terrorist group at the worst. I mean, just think of all the corpses buried there."
He thought about it and shrugged lazily. "Oh well. You lot can rot in prison. I'll only have to do a month — and that's if they catch me."
"Why's that?" I demanded.
"I'm still a juvenile," Rhys said, smug as can be.
"Nah — it don't work like that, buddy. You'd just get re-prosecuted as an adult when you turned eighteen."
Another shrug. "We'll see."
"You're impossible," I told him.
He grinned, of course. "Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
"Can you three stop bickering and help us?" Sophie shouted at us. Ah. I had identified the 'mother' of the group. And she was currently supervising the effort to build tents before the sun dipped below the horizon. Unnoticed by us, the others had returned to whatever they had been doing before we were so rudely interrupted by the hikers.
"I wasn't bickering with anyone," Leo mumbled. He alone had stayed, probably amused by the argument.
She narrowed her eyes. "And we're all proud of you, Leo. Now go find a shirt before you freeze to death."
My wolf whined in disappointment. I heartily agreed.
I leant into his body under the pretext of warming him up — though in truth, I was the one shivering. We stayed together for the trip back to his rucksack, where he got dressed properly, despite my loud objections. Then we actually made ourselves useful by returning to the main campsite.
Emmett and Ryker had found a clearing defended by bramble bushes which reminded me disconcertingly of Jeff's thorny home. There, they stamped down the snow until we had a solid surface, even going as far as scraping it away where the tents would be pitched. Our tents were waterproof, but they weren't that waterproof.
Aaron, Owen and Aaron's minion stuck together, unsurprisingly. I had no doubt they would claim a tent to themselves. There wasn't trust between raiding groups as much as competitivity. But for the moment, those three had elected to build the fire out of wet branches. Not a pleasant task.
Everyone else — including my brother now — was trying to make sense of the tent poles. We'd had to take what we could get, and these ancient, strange things had been the only tents not in use at the castle. We preferred ropes to poles because they were lighter. I grimaced at the twins' overenthusiastic attempts to assemble one section.
"You're putting it in the wrong hole," I told them matter-of-factly.
"That's what she said," Kyle jibed. Everyone in earshot started sniggering, proving their maturity level beyond doubt.
But I crossed my arms and glared down at the guy, taking advantage that I was taller than him while he knelt in the snow. "We don't put up with inappropriate jokes here. Go stand in a corner and think about what you've done."
He complained, "We're in a forest. There aren't any corners."
"Ain't my problem. Walk until you find one."
"No, please. I'll be good — I promise," Kyle mewled. It would have been cute if he hadn't been a muscular six-foot guy. So I rolled my eyes and took over the pole he had been ruining.
***
We ate after darkness shrouded the forest, sitting in the light of a hearty campfire. Some of the stronger boys had dragged logs into a circle — makeshift seats. I shared one of those with Leo and Rhys while we gnawed on Maggie's chicken kebabs and beans.
Normally, we would be drinking strictly water outside of camp. But facing the prospect of imminent death, I had allowed a few bottles of the stronger stuff. Vodka, specifically. We only had enough for one night of entertainment to keep spirits up before we got onto feral turf.
"Drinking game?" Kevin suggested far too eagerly. "I vote Truth or Dare."
"Boring," his twin muttered. "Everyone picks truth and then lies. And we can't even play just Dare because it gets so damn extreme. Some dipshits used to touch the fire for kicks."
Rhys and I exchanged guilty looks.
Tally saved us with a timely suggestion of, "Never Have I Ever?"
Most people nodded vaguely, and I took it for a consensus. "Alright, but let's keep it clean."
Our drinking games tended to get rowdy. And more graphic than any of us would prefer. I didn't want any humiliating admissions tonight. Not while my brother was part of the circle.
Everyone set aside whatever they were doing — whittling or eating or card games — and exchanged grins. Aaron didn't need any further encouragement to fill everyone's cups with pure vodka. It wouldn't take long to get drunk on this. Then maybe we would even get some sleep, passed out rather than tossing and turning.
"I'll start," Kevin decided. "Never have I ever been arrested."
Surprisingly, Leo drank. So did Aaron and Aaron's minion, whose name I still hadn't bothered learning, but they were to be expected. My mate wasn't the trouble-making kind of person ... or so I'd thought.
"Explain," Kevin ordered, looking Leo with new interest.
"That's not part of the game," he complained.
We all just stared at him, waiting.
"Public urination," Leo muttered eventually. Everyone burst out laughing, especially those who had been drinking beforehand. "That was the charge, but it was bullshit. The officers were just looking for an excuse — bored, I reckon."
"And you two?" I asked with a glance at the raiders.
Aaron shrugged. "We got drunk in town and started a fight. Spend the night sobering up in a jail cell. It weren't so bad."
A little late, Tally took a gulp of her drink. She grimaced. "Screw it. No one's going to remember this in the morning anyway. I was out with a group and we were all nicked for twerking. I didn't even know it was illegal, but there you go."
The howls of laughter were loud enough to spook the birds who slept in the trees overheard. A flock of them took off, screeching and wheeling, while we tried to control our mirth. It took a good few minutes before everyone was calm enough to continue.
Rhys's turn next — and I winced in anticipation. It was justified, because he said, "Never have I ever done it in wolf form."
I shoved him over, which was a lot easier done when he was sat down and already tipsy. He hardly even seemed to notice. He just returned to his seat absent-mindedly.
"We're doing the PG version," I snarled.
"That was PG! I didn't even say —"
"Okay, whatever. Just drink and get it over with," I muttered before he could finish that thought.
Kyle and Tally, our resident lovebirds, downed excess gulps of alcohol and didn't seem at all embarrassed. And they were the only ones. At least, they were the only ones to admit it.
"Oh, come on. I didn't need to know that," Kevin whined at his twin.
He shrugged carelessly. "Blame Rhys."
I watched with amusement as Kevin eventually worked up the courage to punch Rhys in the shoulder. "Keep it PG, man."
Neither Leo or I managed to get anyone to drink. Then Aaron was the next in the circle. He stretched out his legs lazily and grinned at us. "Never have I ever told any of you shitheads my surname."
Rhys and I both swore filthily at him. It was a deliberate trap for Llewellyns, a reckoning for how loudly and often we boasted. I took a sip, feeling the alcohol burn a track down my throat, although I wondered if it even counted, given that my real surname was... Well, I knew it began with an s.
Rhys wasn't quite so pliable. He argued, "That's bullshit and you know it. You're Mortimer's kid, so you're a Morris. Owen too, obviously. Sophie's dad was a Cambell. And over here we have Kyle and Kevin Trafford, Connor Farrell and there ain't nobody who knows about Tally."
Connor. Right. I'd totally remember that.
"Well, that's all very impressive, Rhys. But the thing is — I never told you that. So it doesn't really matter that you know I'm a Morris. I don't gotta drink," Aaron insisted.
"Sure you do," I said and grinned. My brother could be sneaky when he wanted, I'd admit that much. "You literally just told us your surname. Drink."
Aaron scowled in a way that made everyone else avert their eyes. He stared at Rhys and me while he ever-so-slowly poured out a measure of vodka and downed it. The tension could have been cut with a knife, and I was tempted to try until Rhys followed suit. And we never once took our eyes off each other.
"I don't get it," Tally whispered too loudly. Pack by upbringing, I remembered. "Why are they...?"
Her mate nudged her into silence and I caught his quiet words, "It's a raider thing. They get all competitive and shit. Just stay out of it."
Never Have I Ever went on for another hour, by the end of which we were beyond pissed. I don't remember much of it, except that we must have run out of vodka about halfway through and somehow failed to notice. Maybe some sober good Samaritan refilled our cups with water instead.
And through it all, Sophie sat a distance away and drank alone. However functional she seemed, I didn't think the pain of losing Davies had run its course yet. And it wouldn't for a good while — maybe even never.
Ryker and Emmett didn't partake either. They were quite content in each other's company and too old to drink with kids, or so they claimed. It worked out well for them in the end, though. When we went to bed, pissed and senseless, they returned from wherever they had been holed up and found that they had a tent to themselves. Because — and I don't remember how or why this happened — all nine of us had squeezed into the same one.
It really was a miracle that we ever got anything done.