Girl Gone Rogue (The Shadow Hunters #2)

p r o l o g u e

     The day I met the mysterious man in the crisp dark suit, I had been dying in my own pool of blood, waiting for Death to take me in his arms. 

     A little dramatic but it was true.

     I thought I was ready. 

     My body had become numb at some point. My blood began to cool and seep into the grass as if Mother Earth had begun her arduous preparations to welcome one of her children back home.

     My chest tightened as tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I didn't really know why I was crying. All I knew was that I was having a hard time trying to keep my emotions in check. It'd been so long since I fell asleep in a warm bed or had a full belly. The last thing I ate was probably that rotten apple that had fallen off a fruit stall. That was two days ago. I felt bad swiping it up and tucking it in my pocket but I had been so damn hungry. No one had caught me but I still felt like I had the whole market's attention laser focused on the back of my head as I strode away with my gaze locked firmly on the ends of my scuffed shoes. 

     I clenched my teeth together, watching the trees sway in and out of my vision. 

     Was this really the end?

     How long had I been here?

     The thick scent of blood filled the air, tainting the natural aroma of the forest.

     My wolf had gone so utterly silent, I couldn't sense her.

     Somewhere inside me, a little voice whispered to get up. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing. I didn't want to die but it felt like I was going to.

     Get up baby girl. Get up.

     I held in a scoff. I was going crazy and hearing voices in my head.

     Maybe I was already dead.

     Get up!

     I grinded my molars and ignored the sharp pain that violently shook my body when I shifted onto my side. Holding a pained breath, I got the fuck up, forcing my limbs to obey my command.

     My knees buckled but I silently begged them to keep me up for a little longer or at least until I could draw a proper breath. Something cracked and I prayed like hell that it wasn't my little toe. That toe had already been through enough, hitting table corners. 

     When I was finally upright, I took in the fallen bodies surrounding me.

     All of them were dead.

     I didn't bother sparing a single one even the slightest glance. They didn't deserve it or a hint of my grief but I couldn't ease the ache in my chest as I limped away.

     "You."

     A hiss of breath left my parched lips. There I went again, hearing voices in my head. I really needed to see a Pack healer with these wounds but I was sure they would turn me around once they scented the Rogue on me.

     I couldn't exactly blame them either.

     Rogues weren't the friendliest bunch of changelings.

     There were several ways one could go Rogue.

     Majority of the wolves that transitioned into Rogues were usually the changelings that let their wolves conquer their human counterparts. There had to be a delicate but controlled balance between human and wolf. If one couldn't get it right, one could either completely hearken to their human part, meaning, they couldn't ever morph into a wolf in their lifetime but would only retain their heightened senses. We called them 'non amimum'- or 'no spirit'.