Rejecting Her Rogue Prince

“Goddess, where is it? I’m sure I put it down here a moment ago!” My mother’s shrill voice fills the room as she races around like a woman possessed. “Everyone! Stop what you’re doing! Help!” My eyes meet Sybil’s in the mirror, and she grins, rolling her eyes as she finishes the last button on my gown. “No need to panic, Mother,” she drawls, strolling across the crowded bedroom to snatch a small green box off the bedside table. “It’s right where you left it.” “Oh, Sybie, you are a treasure.” Mother exhales dramatically and opens the box, revealing the sapphire necklace that has become almost as legendary as our family name. “This necklace has been passed down for generations,” she says softly, placing it around my neck. “I wore it on my wedding day. Now you’ll wear it on yours, my darling.” Her hands linger on my shoulders, and I cover them with my own, meeting her teary gaze in the mirror. “Thank you, Mother. You know how much I adore this piece.” Her smile wavers, but her eyes shine with pride. “You’re so beautiful, Elara. Alpha Robert will be blown away when he sees you.” “Hopefully he won’t go too far…” Sybil mutters under her breath sarcastically, and though I glare at her through the mirror, she only smirks in return. Just then, one of the servants knocks, announcing that the guests are now seated for the ceremony. The words send my mother into a new whirlwind of orders, and she promptly begins ushering everyone toward the door with the grace of a general at war. “Sybil, darling, remember to smile as you walk down the aisle, please. With any luck, you’ll finally catch the eye of a respectable man.” “Of course, mother. As you well know, it’s my number one goal in life!” Sybil replies with mock enthusiasm. The door closes, leaving only my older sister and me behind. I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus on my reflection. The vision I’ve been shaping since I was a little girl, sitting alone in that dark, damp room. The woman staring back is exactly who she was always meant to be: well-mannered, accomplished, poised, diligent, and utterly in control. Well… most of the time. And above all, she’s Alpha Robert’s bride. Of course, my gown is everything I dreamed it would be. Ivory silk that falls to the floor, embroidered with silver thread and tiny crystals that shimmer whenever I move. The corseted bodice hugs my figure just so, elegant and precise, every detail perfect down to the last lace-edged fold. It’s more than a dress; it’s the embodiment of everything I’ve planned so meticulously over these past few years. And I could not be happier! Robert has been the perfect boyfriend, and now that he has become Alpha of his pack, we are finally ready to begin the rest of our lives together as husband and wife. Mates bonded under the light of the moon. “Still not too late to back out, Squeaks,” Sybil says lightly, holding out my bouquet. “Goddess, must you start with that ridiculous nickname today of all days?” I sigh, taking the bouquet from her. “Can’t break tradition,” she says with a shrug, adjusting my veil. “Besides, it keeps you humble.” I tut in disapproval, and she grins. “Anyway, as I said, it’s not too late. I can have us out of here in under ten minutes. I’m sure Mr Tattle Tale will get over it.” “Maybe it’s time you get over it. That kitchen nonsense was years ago now, Syb,” I say evenly. “Robert is here to stay. Whether you like it or not.” Her expression softens, and she shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. If he makes you happy, little sister, then I shall forever hold my peace.” She cups my face in her hands, her thumb brushing my cheek affectionately. “You deserve it.” I can’t help smiling. “You’ll see, Sybil. Everything will be perfect.” “That’s what worries me,” she mutters with a grin, stepping back. “Come on then, before I drag you out of here myself.” We step onto the landing where the sound of the soft wedding music drifts up from below. My father waits at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in his military finery and medals, his silver hair gleaming under the chandelier light. He greets Sybil first, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Give them hell, Sybie.” “Always do, Father.” She winks at me. “See you on the other side, Squeaks. Try not to faceplant, yeah?” Father chuckles, both of them completely unbothered by my glare. “What? She’s not wrong, sweetheart. It’s sound advice.” “Very funny,” I say, slipping my arm in his. It’s then that he looks at me, pride softening his expression. “My Goddess, you are a vision, Elara.” “Thank you, Father.” I smile in reply. He holds onto me tightly as the doors open before us. Moonlight suddenly floods the threshold, the garden beyond a complete and utter dream come to life. Rows of ivory chairs are filled with guests from both packs, their faces turned expectantly toward the altar. Lanterns hang from silver lamp posts like captured stars, their glow reflecting off the many glass vases brimming with white roses and trailing ivy. The grass is strewn with petals that glitter faintly beneath the night sky, and at the end of the aisle stands the altar. Draped in wildflowers and lit by a hundred flickering candles of various sizes. Above our heads, the full moon stands guard, as if the Moon Goddess herself has blessed us with her presence to witness the coming together of two great packs in one perfect union. Everything is exactly as I planned. My heart swells as my father leads me down the aisle and I look around to find we are surrounded by the smiles of our families, our friends and strangers alike. However, despite this, despite being here on the precipice of everything I ever wanted, I cannot shake the small, uneasy, niggling feeling that takes up residence in my stomach. A strange, restless pulse that demands my attention. In truth, the same feeling has been bothering me on and off for days now, though I’ve tried to ignore it. It’s just nerves. It’s completely normal. I repeat the words in my head over and over, but still the feeling ripples through me, creeping under my skin in a way that makes my fingers tighten around my bouquet. I lift my chin a little higher, forcing my breathing into a calm, even rhythm. Robert stands at the altar in his black suit trimmed with silver, the crest of his pack pinned proudly to his lapel. I keep my focus on him. On the moonlight that touches his blond hair and turns it to gold. He smiles at me, and the familiar comfort of his gaze helps me to smile back. By the time I reach him, all that remains is the promise of everything I’ve ever wanted. The elder clears his throat, starting the ceremony. “We gather tonight under the light of the moon to honor the sacred rites of bond and matehood…” I squeeze Robert’s hand. We share a smile, just the two of us, and for a second, the world feels right. But then it hits me again—the strange wave of nerves in my stomach that causes my muscles to stiffen. I frown, and Sybil notices, her eyes meeting mine with a silent question. Do you need me? I shake my head slightly and turn my focus back to Robert, but the pain in my gut intensifies, causing me to squeeze his hand tightly. A flicker of worry flashes on his face, but he doesn’t question me. He doesn’t get the chance to. A low rumble fills the air, emanating from the forest in the distance. The sound is faint at first, but unsettling enough to cause the elder’s voice to trail off. I look to Robert in confusion, but he’s already on the move, stepping down from the altar to cast an eye to the dark trees. The guests watching begin to murmur, their heads turning toward the distant treeline as the sound grows, like thunder rolling through the mountains. The ground beneath my feet begins to vibrate, and my eyes meet Robert’s. “EVERYONE GET INSIDE!” My father’s voice booms across the garden, deep and commanding. The sudden force of it makes me flinch, my heartbeat jumping into my throat. For a split second, I don’t understand what’s happening. And then I see them. They explode from the treeline in a blur of motion. Wolves. Dozens at first, then hundreds. Their coats are matted, streaked with dirt and dried blood, their bodies lean but powerful, built for killing. Snarls rip through the night as they sprint across the open field, claws tearing into the earth, teeth bared and glinting white. These wolves are rogues. I know I’m right as soon as the stench of them hits a second later. There’s nothing respectable or even remotely civilized about these beasts. They move like rabid things, a swarm of wild hunger and chaos that will devour anything in their path. Panic erupts around me. Chairs scrape, and the screams start while men from our pack are already shifting. Their clothes are torn, bones snapping, as growls replace human voices. Their wolves burst free, charging toward the rogues that flood the lawn. Others—women, children, elders—run for the pack house, tripping over chairs and flower arrangements as they scramble for safety. “Robert!” I scream his name, my voice breaking through the noise, but he’s already shifting, his body twisting mid-stride before his paws hit the ground. His wolf is huge, pure white, and gleams under the moonlight as the first rogue hits him head-on. They crash together brutally, snarling and biting. My breath catches as I watch him roll across the grass, his fangs sinking into the rogue’s throat. I can’t move. The scene that was once a dream turns into a nightmare before my eyes as wolves rip into one another, their blood staining the grass that only moments ago held rose petals. Then a hand grabs my arm. I spin, ready to fight, but it’s Sybil. “Move, Elara!” she shouts, her eyes wild and fierce as she begins dragging me through the chaos. I stumble after her, my gown snagging on a broken chair, my veil ripped from my hair. Everywhere I look, someone is fighting or falling. A wolf slams into another a few feet from us, and Sybil yanks me out of the way just before they crash to the ground where I’d been standing. She’s trying to get me to the house, but our path is blocked by two wolves locked in combat, snapping and clawing, rolling across the stone steps that lead to the door. “This way!” she yells, pulling me toward the side of the house. The air is thick with the scent of blood and smoke now. Lanterns have been knocked over, and flames begin to spread, licking at the edges of the garden. We cut around a corner, and the noise muffles slightly behind us. My heels skid on the grass as Sybil pushes me down behind a thick hedge of roses. “Stay here. Hide,” she orders, her eyes blazing. “Don’t move until I tell you.” “Sybil—” “Promise me, Elara!” I nod, too stunned to argue. She gives me one last look —part warning, part love —and then she shifts. Her wolf bursts forward in one smooth motion, and she takes off at a sprint, straight back into the fray. I press myself lower into the hedge. The thorns bite into my skin, but I can’t stop watching. I see Sybil tear into a rogue twice her size, holding her own with impressive skill. My eyes dart frantically across the battlefield, searching for Robert’s white wolf or my father’s grey one, but I can’t find them. I know I should stay hidden, just like Sybil said. But every instinct in me screams that if I don’t do something, we’ll all die here tonight. It's no use my shifting now. I can’t fight. Not like Sybil and I’d be lucky to stand half a chance against one of these rabid beasts. I’m not too proud to admit that my wolf isn’t strong enough to make a difference. But there is something I can do. The alarm tower. If I can reach it, I can sound the warning and alert the entire territory of the danger, maybe even the neighboring packs too. My heart hammers as I peek over the hedge toward the tower, which rises at the far end of the property. It feels impossibly far away, but I know I have to try. I tug my heels off quickly, then gather the skirts of my tattered gown, hauling them up as I take off in a run. The sounds of battle fade behind me. The growls, the screams, the snapping of bones, dull, but they don’t leave my head. I run faster, my lungs burning as my heartbeat hammers in my ears. Suddenly, my foot catches on something, and I go down hard, my palms scraping the gravel, my face slamming against the ground. For a second, I’m winded, but I force myself upright. I barely make it a few steps before a dark blur leaps out of nowhere and lands right in front of me. I stumble backward, searching for anything, anything I can use in defense. My hand brushes against a broken lantern that had fallen earlier, its glass cracked but still faintly glowing. The wolf lunges, and in a blind panic, I swing the lantern as hard as I can. It shatters against the rogue’s muzzle, flames catching its fur and rippling over its face and back. The beast howls, thrashing wildly as the fire grows. I lie there shaking as it turns and runs, darting into the forest. My hand trembles around the bent metal handle still clutched in my fist, and I squeal, tossing it aside. There’s no time to think. I have the tower well within reach now, and I run for it. The heavy door gives way with a groan, and I throw myself inside, slamming it shut behind me. The staircase winds sharply upward, the cold stone biting at my bare feet as I climb. I can hardly breathe by the time I reach the top. My arms feel like lead, but I throw myself at the thick bell rope anyway and pull with everything I have. The first clang nearly knocks me off balance. It’s deafening metal-on-metal roar echoes across the entire valley. I pull again, again, again, using my full weight to wrench the rope down until my hands burn. Then, faintly at first, I hear the others answer. One from the west, another from the north. It’s the sound of our neighboring packs picking up the call. Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy, and I sag against the rope, panting. The tower feels like it’s swaying, or maybe it’s just me. I stumble toward the open archway and look out over the territory. Some of the rogues are already breaking formation, retreating back into the forest. Just then, a strange, magnetic pull twists in my chest, a curious feeling urging me downstairs. I bolt down the steps quickly, nearly tripping twice before I reach the ground and throw open the door. The sounds outside are different now. My father’s voice shouts orders, and I notice men are regrouping, driving the remaining rogues back toward the woods. I can hear the last of them howling in retreat from every corner of the forest. I start running toward the house, desperate to find Robert, to find Sybil, when the same strange pull hits me again—sharper this time. I stop dead in my tracks before turning slowly. My heart stops. A rogue stands not ten feet away. His midnight-black fur drenched in blood, his breath steaming in the cold air, his teeth glinting in a silent snarl. Every sane thought screams to run, but I don’t. I can’t. He hesitates too, a flicker of recognition or perhaps confusion passing through his eyes. The world narrows to the space between us, and my heart pounds so violently it hurts. Then, without warning, he shifts. The sound is awful, but what stands before me is worse. Tall, broad, naked, his muscular body is slick with blood and dirt, his dark hair hanging over his forehead in an unruly mess. His chest rises and falls heavily, the action forcing my eyes downward to the scars that carve across his bare, tanned skin. And those eyes… dark, wild, feral, they lock onto mine, keeping me unwillingly rooted to the spot. Revulsion twists in my stomach, but it’s tangled with something else. Something I don’t want to name. I hate the way my pulse reacts, the way the air feels charged between us, and so I hold up my hand in desperation. “Leave me alone!” His gaze remains fixed, his chiseled features set in an unreadable expression. I swallow, fighting against my body. My instincts. “Go. Leave now, rogue! Get out of here!” His eyes narrow, and then he moves, stalking toward me slowly. I hold my breath, words suddenly failing me completely. Just then, a distant howl splits the air. The rogue’s head snaps toward the forest just as a gunshot cracks from the house. Then another. The first bullet tears through his shoulder, spinning him slightly, while the second slams into his leg, dropping him to one knee. He barely flinches at the pain; instead, he only snarls as the pack warriors rush in, shifting mid-stride. They slam into him, forcing him down, pinning his arms to the ground. He fights against them, but he’s outnumbered. A fact he seems to realise when his body eventually slows to a stop. I stand frozen, staring at him—at the wild defiance in his eyes, even as he’s dragged across the blood-soaked lawn. “Elara!” Robert’s voice breaks through everything, and in a daze, I turn to see he’s running toward me. He’s human again, bruised and bleeding but alive. When he gets closer, I stumble into his arms, and he wraps me up in his embrace, kissing the top of my head. “Goddess, Elara, the rogue was right there in front of you. You must have been terrified out of your mind!” I don’t answer him. In truth, I don’t know how to right now. Instead, I cling to him, half in relief, half in turmoil. No, no, no, this can’t be true. It can’t be. After everything I’ve been through in my life, I refuse to believe the Moon Goddess would do this. I refuse to believe she would be so cruel! “Elara? Are you okay?” Robert asks, lifting my chin with his delicate touch. I look up into his blue eyes and nod my head, painting a small smile on my face. “I am now.” He nods, wrapping his arms around me again, holding me tightly as I watch the rogue disappear out of sight.