My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415: Chapter 415 HUNGER AND VIOLENCE

JACK’S POV

The forest surrounding Silverpine was too quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came with peace, or even caution. This was the kind that settled after something had gone wrong, when everything living had learned—quickly and brutally—that drawing attention was the fastest way to die.

I leaned against the rough bark of a dead tree, one boot braced on its roots, eyes half-lidded, listening.

No birds.

No scurrying animals.

No distant movement.

No careless footsteps from the idiots I had dragged into something far bigger than they understood.

Good.

They were learning.

Agonizingly slow.

But learning.

It had been like this since the last attack.

The rogues had gone quiet, slipping through territory like ghosts instead of tearing through it like beasts.

No unnecessary fights. No wasted energy. No reckless displays of dominance that would have gotten them killed two weeks ago.

Caution.

It sat wrong on them.

Rogues weren’t meant for restraint. The moment a wolf broke from a pack, something fundamental snapped loose.

Structure went with it. Discipline followed soon after.

What remained was instinct, sharpened and unfiltered, chewing through everything until there was nothing but hunger and violence.

Most of them didn’t last long enough to notice the difference.

The ones who did either died or followed the ancient laws.

The ones whispered about like curses instead of commandments.

Rules set by the fallen Alpha King, back when rogues had first started becoming more than accidents.

Back when someone had realized that if you didn’t impose something—anything—on the chaos, it would consume itself and everything around it.

Feed, but not endlessly.

Kill, but not without purpose.

Rest, or lose your mind.

Stay tethered to something, or become nothing.

I huffed a quiet breath, dragging a hand through my hair.

“Ridiculous.”

The word came out under my breath, but it echoed louder in my head.

I tilted my head, feeling the faint pull under my skin—the constant, gnawing pressure that never fully went away.

I pushed off the tree, pacing a few steps before turning back, the restless energy under my skin refusing to settle.

Most rogues clung to those laws like lifelines.

I never did.

If I didn’t have to follow the rules of a pack, I sure as hell wouldn’t follow those written by some long-dead monarch.

My lips curled at the thought.

No.

I had something better: Catherine.

For years, that had been enough.

Her controlled, precise energy, tailored like no other, kept the worst at bay.

Where other rogues spiraled into feral madness for not following the rules, I stayed...intact.

My jaw tightened.

But lately...

It wasn’t enough.

The pressure surged again, sharper this time, like something clawing its way up from under my ribs.

I sucked in a slow breath, forcing it down, forcing it back into place where it belonged.

It didn’t go quietly. It never did anymore.

“Boss?”

The voice cut through my thoughts, hesitant in a way that immediately irritated me.

Rafe stood a few feet away, shoulders tense, eyes flicking between me and the others scattered deeper in the trees.

Waiting.

“For what?” I asked.

He blinked. “I—what?”

“For what,” I repeated, slower this time, letting the edge slip into my tone, “are you all standing around waiting?”

His throat worked as he swallowed.

“Orders.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh, stepping closer until the tension in his posture spiked.

“You had orders,” I said. “Maintain position. Stay hidden. No unnecessary movement.”

“We’ve done that,” he said.

“And now?”

He hesitated.

There was the problem.

Rogues didn’t do well with stillness.

Too much time to think.

Too much time to feel.

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