Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 100

Chapter 100: Chapter 100

Kaelen’s POV

The howl hit like a slap across the face.

Not distant. Not probing. Close enough that the sound vibrated in my teeth, rattled through the bones of my skull and down into the base of my spine where instinct lived.

Trap.

Alex—my wolf—surged forward before the thought finished forming. Not panic. Recognition. The kind that came from years of warfare, from a lifetime of reading the language of predators. That howl wasn’t a greeting or a territorial claim. It was a signal.

A command.

"HOLD FORMATION!" I roared.

Too late.

The fog erupted.

They came from every direction simultaneously. Dark shapes launching out of the white nothing—massive, wrong-smelling, their bodies reeking of that same chemical bitterness that saturated the air. I recognized the foul stench instantly—it was dark magic. The first one hit our circle like a battering ram, slamming into the knight on the eastern edge with enough force to send him flying backward into the trunk of a pine.

I heard the crack. Bone or bark, I couldn’t tell.

Then everything became chaos.

"Alpha!" Cassian’s voice, somewhere to my left, raw with alarm. "I can’t see—I can’t—"

"BACKS TOGETHER!" I bellowed. "Don’t break the—"

A second wolf barreled through the gap the first had created. Enormous. Bigger than any Rogue I’d ever fought. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow through the fog, bright as lanterns, and they found me with a directness that made my blood freeze.

It knew exactly who I was.

I didn’t think. I shifted.

The transformation ripped through me—clothing shredding, bones cracking and reforming, muscles expanding until the world shrank around me. In my wolf form, I was massive. Black-furred. Twice the size of any Beta wolf. Built for exactly this.

The Rogue lunged. I met it mid-air.

We collided with a sound like thunder. Jaws snapping. Claws tearing. The creature was strong—unnaturally so—and fast in a way Rogues shouldn’t be. It twisted beneath me, going for my throat, and I caught its shoulder instead. Fur and flesh tore between my teeth. Hot blood flooded my mouth.

It didn’t retreat. Any normal Rogue would have. Pain was supposed to trigger flight. That was the whole point of Rogue psychology—survival above everything.

This one pressed harder. Fought smarter.

I locked my jaws around its neck. Bit down. Deeper. Through muscle, past tendon, until I felt the cartilage of its windpipe collapse between my teeth and the blood turned from a trickle to a river. The creature spasmed. Went limp.

I released it and spun toward the sound of steel on claw.

Cassian was fighting two of them. His sword arm moved in precise, desperate arcs, but the Rogues weren’t attacking blindly. One of the massive wolves feinted left, only to instantly pivot and lunge right with terrifying speed. Coordinated. Timed.

They’ve been trained.

The realization hit like ice water. Rogues didn’t do this. Rogues were feral, scattered, driven by hunger and madness. They didn’t execute flanking maneuvers. They didn’t coordinate feints.

Someone had taught them to fight like soldiers.

I launched myself at the one circling Cassian’s flank. Caught it across the spine with my full weight. It went down screaming—a horrible, almost human sound—and I finished it before it could rise.

The second one bolted into the fog. Smart. It had seen what happened to its partner and calculated the odds.

Trained to retreat, too.

I shifted back. The cold air hit my bare skin like needles. Naked. Weaponless for a heartbeat until Cassian tossed me a fallen knight’s sword without being asked.

"Report," I said. My voice came out rough. Blood—not mine—dripped from my jaw.

"Seven down." Cassian’s face was gray beneath the grime. His left forearm was torn open, a deep crescent of teeth marks weeping blood through the torn sleeve of his armor. He pressed his other hand against it, but red seeped between his fingers steadily. "We’ve lost seven, Alpha."

Seven. Out of twelve.

I swallowed the grief. Later. There would be time for it later or there wouldn’t be time for anything at all.

"How many still out there?"

"Five. Maybe six. Hard to count in this filth." He jerked his chin toward the fog.

"The ridge," I said. "Half a mile north. Granite outcropping—natural walls on three sides. We hold there."

Twice, a shape would materialize from the white—a flash of yellow eyes, a snarl—and one of the knights would lunge with his sword. Both times the Rogue retreated before contact. Testing defenses. Probing for weakness. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

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