The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air as we stood over the fallen rogue leader, Maeve’s body trembling from the fight. My heart pounded as I saw her injuries—deep cuts along her side where the rogue’s claws had torn through her flesh.
“Maeve,” I whispered, rushing to her side, my hands trembling as I reached for her. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll heal,” she replied, her voice strained but firm. I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but her determination never wavered. “We need to finish this.”
I nodded, though my chest tightened with worry. I couldn’t lose her, not now. The rogue leader was dead, but the battle wasn’t over yet. The pack was still scattered, fighting off the remaining rogue wolves that had invaded the packhouse. The warriors were holding their ground, but the tensio
