The five rogues didn’t stop running until dawn.
They were holed up in an abandoned trappers’ cabin 8 miles west, licking wounds and counting losses. Leader was a scarred alpha named Vex. He’d hit three packs in the last year and never lost more than one scout.
Tonight he’d lost seven.
Vex slammed his fist on the table, making the map jump. “They changed the line.”
The scent-tracker, a wiry beta named Kess, nodded. “The kid’s not on the wall anymore. I caught her scent deep in the servants’ wing. Inner sanctum.”
“So they know we figured it out,” said Roric, the youngest. He was missing two fingers. “They pulled her back.”
Vex paced. “Good. Means they’re scared.”
“Means they’re smart,” said the fourth rogue, a woman called Mara. She was cleaning blood off a dagger with clinical calm.
