Revenge of the Luna Queen

Chapter 31

'Who are you?'

'Who are you?'

'Who are you?'

The words pounded in Aislinn's head. The voices mixing together, the words though, always the same. They were all she could hear above the rushing wind in her ears as she clung to Richard's back. His thick brown and grey fur soft beneath her fingers. His large and powerful frame easily carrying her. His paws greedily eating the distance that lay before them. Twisting her head Aislinn smiled at Ciera who was clinging to Emmett's back like a monkey, her deep inky hair whipping around her, her face a mask of terror as her arms wrapped tightly around the powerful wolf's neck.

Returning her face forward, Aislinn closed her eyes as the wind rushed over her. Loud enough to silence the world, to silence the beat of paws on the frozen ground, everything but the voices.

'Who are you?'

'Who are you?'

She had run for them for so long. Gagged and silenced them. Ignored and drowned them out. Refusing to answer. To give them the words they had begged, demanded, threatened, tortured, loved and died for.

WHO ARE YOU?

Her eyes snapped open, her lips curling back into a wicked smirk. She sat confident and proud atop her Guardian. Her silver hair blowing behind her loose and free. A silver trail of dancing flame.

.

.

Robert Doyle watched the fight dispassionately and with a cold calculation. Of course he had heard the ludicrous rumors that had been spreading. In fact he had killed over a dozen of his own wolves just that previous evening for repeating the madness.

Of course, he himself knew of the grain of truth that laid at their misguided center. At the thought, his mind strayed to his useless son, he hadn't heard from him since he had ordered him to finish the girl once and for all.

Doyle narrowed his eyes pulled into deep thought. After all he hadn't gotten to where he was nor stayed there, amongst such a lot of backstabbing traitorous as*holes, by underestimating his enemy. Nor by trusting his allies. He looked at the Alpha standing beside him. Disgust and repulsion overtaking him, as he regarded the man who stood behind it all. Unease and distrust flaring as he recalled Gerard Hastram's response when Doyle had inquired about the notable missing members of their little rebel alliance. Still not happy at having his questions and concerns brushed aside by the erratic Semper Alpha.

Doyle bristled at the reminder. No one ignored the King of the Rogues.

Perhaps he might owe some of his initial success to the Alpha of the Never Pack, but for the last decade Doyle had held that control, strengthening and flourishing the rogues pack, all on his own, and if necessary he would gladly remind these men exactly who he was now.

But for now, he would wait and bide his time. Doyle was always one to side with the winners, his calculating gaze moved back to the fighting. Making sure to keep a close eye and watch on what was happening, searching for even the smallest sign that the tides were shifting and turning. His fears were eased as he watched the rebels make a desperate last push forward, their forces rallying behind their leader.

The Rogue King ordered his wolves to close in around them, surrounding them and cutting off their route of escape and retreat.

"Slaughter them all." He sent out the order coldly.

With them nearly defeated and destroyed, Doyle turned from the sight of the now assured victory. He had come to this spectacle only to ensure that he didn't lose in this fight. His loyalty and wolves at the disposal of these cut-throat bastards only, so long as it didn't undercut or threaten his own power. And only, for so long as it continued to secure his newfound position.