Chapter 2 Help Me

REIKA'S POV I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest as shapes began to emerge from the darkness. Eyes gleamed from the shadows, low growls echoing in the stillness of the night. Rogues. They crept closer, circling me with slow, deliberate steps. There were at least three of them, their scraggly forms almost blending into the surrounding trees, but I could smell their foul stench from where I stood. Instinctively, I took a step back, my mind racing. My wolf had never surfaced. I was vulnerable, alone, and defenseless. One of them with a scar running across his face, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming maliciously. "What do we have here? A lost little lamb?" "Leave me alone," I managed, though my voice was more shaken than intended. He laughed, a low, sinister sound. "Not likely. You smell of the Shadow Claw Pack, but you're not one of their warriors, are you? You're weak." I tensed. He wasn't wrong. I was an easy target, and they knew it. But I couldn't give up—not now, not like this. I took a deep breath, trying to think of a way out. I wouldn't let them take me down without a fight, even if I had no chance. The rogues circled me like vultures, their predatory grins widening with every step they took. They were playing with me, mocking my helplessness, enjoying the terror they could smell in the air. I tried to mask it, but it was impossible. The fear pulsed through me, my heart hammering in my chest. I couldn't be their victim. I couldn't imagine how many women had fallen to them, and I refused to be one more. One of the rogues, a tall, grizzled man with a scar running across his forehead, took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with sick amusement. "Looks like we've got a feisty one, boys." Another rogue laughed. "She'll break soon enough." My skin crawled under their gaze. I could feel their eyes devouring me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat. My breath quickened as they closed in. They were close now, too close. Before I could react, two of them grabbed me, their rough hands clamping down on my wrists. I tried to pull away, but they were too strong. "Let go of me!" I screamed, but my voice felt weak in the vast emptiness of the night. No one would hear me out here. I thrashed, kicking wildly, but it was useless. One of them yanked my arms behind my back, holding me in place while the leader approached, his eyes gleaming with twisted excitement. He reached out and ran a dirty finger down my cheek, tracing it to my lips. "Pretty little thing," he sneered. Disgust coiled in my stomach, and I spat in his face before I could think. His eyes darkened in an instant. With a snarl, he slapped me so hard that my head snapped to the side. Pain exploded in my jaw, and I could taste the coppery tang of blood on my tongue. "Stupid girl," he growled, wiping my spit from his face. "You're going to regret that." He grabbed the front of my shirt, his rough fingers tearing at the fabric. Panic surged through me, and I struggled harder against the men holding me, my mind racing for a way out. There had to be a way out. Then, out of nowhere, a low, menacing growl echoed through the night. It was deep and dangerous, sending a shiver down my spine. The rogues froze. Their laughter died, and their heads snapped toward the sound. "What the—?" The growl came again, louder this time, and suddenly, from the tall grass, a figure emerged. My heart jumped at the sight of him. He was tall, his muscular frame moving with lethal grace, and his hazel eyes glowed like fire in the darkness. Every inch of him screamed power and authority. The rogues took a step back, fear flashing in their eyes. They could smell it—just like I could. This man wasn't just any wolf. "Get away from her," he commanded. The rogues hesitated, their eyes darting between the stranger and me, weighing their options. The leader snarled, his pride battling his instinct to flee. "She's ours." The man stepped forward. "Not anymore." My pulse raced, but for the first time that night, it wasn't from fear—it was from hope. "Let her go before you regret it," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. But the rogues weren't backing down. Their eyes flashed with defiance as they sized him up. The leader sneered, clearly thinking they had the advantage. Idiots. The man who had slapped me, his hand still stinging on my cheek, released a low growl in response. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat, stepping forward to intimidate the stranger. Without a word, the man standing before them began to shift. His bones cracked and reshaped with terrifying speed. Fur rippled over his skin, dark as night. The rogues followed suit, each transforming, though their shifts were rougher, less fluid. Their wolves were scraggly, with matted fur and wild eyes. The rogue leader's wolf was massive, with a thick coat of dirty brown fur and scars criss crossing his snout. He let out a low, threatening growl, his sharp yellowed teeth bared. His two followers were smaller, leaner wolves. One was a wiry gray wolf with a limp in his back leg, and the other was a reddish-brown wolf, smaller but quicker, his fur bristling in anticipation. But none of them compared to the wolf that now stood before them. The stranger's wolf was beautiful—a towering, muscular figure with sleek black fur gleaming under the dim moonlight. His hazel eyes glowed, burning with deadly intent. He was larger and more powerful—no ordinary wolf. Without hesitation, the black wolf launched himself at the rogue leader. His massive body slammed into the brown wolf with a force that sent both of them tumbling across the dirt. The rogue let out a sharp yelp, but it was cut short as the black wolf's jaws snapped down on his neck. The crack of bone echoed in the still night air. The fight was brutal. Swift. The gray wolf lunged at the large wolf from the side, hoping to catch him off guard, but the black wolf was too fast. He spun on his hind legs and sank his teeth into the gray wolf's throat. Blood splattered across the ground as the good wolf shook his head viciously, his strength undeniable. The rogue's body went limp in seconds, collapsing lifelessly onto the ground. The last rogue, the red-brown wolf, tried to run. He bolted towards the woods, desperate to escape. But the good wolf wasn't about to let him go. He chased him down, pouncing on him before the rogue could take more than a few strides. The kill was quick—merciless. I stood frozen, unable to process what I had just witnessed. My heart pounded wildly as I watched the beautiful wolf wipe out three wolves like it was nothing. It was more than just a fight—it was an execution. He hadn't hesitated for a second. As the black wolf stood tall over the bodies of the rogues, his chest heaving, he turned his glowing hazel eyes toward me. My knees felt weak. He shifted back into his human form, utterly unfazed by the blood on his hands. His expression was complex and unreadable, but his eyes softened slightly as he approached me. Before I could find my voice, my vision blurred. I tried to take a breath and force my body to stay upright, but it was useless. The world around me spun, my legs weak and everything went dark.