Chapter 28
My heart sank as I read through the lies, the accusations.
Sienna, that vile woman, had started slandering me in the public media, portraying me as some sort of villain responsible for her misfortunes. She blamed me for her disfigurement, for her failed relationships, spinning a web of lies that the public was all too eager to
believe.
My wolf growled in the back of my mind, a low, angry sound that mirrored the rage
building within me. How dare she? the wolf snarled. How dare she try to tarnish your
name?
But I was too tired to be angry. All I felt was a deep, bone–weary sadness. They didn’t know me, didn’t know what I had been through. All they saw were Sienna’s lies, and they believed
every word.
Not long after, people who didn’t know the truth were coming to my house, throwing
bottles, shouting obscenities, as if I were the monster Sienna painted me to be.
A knock at the door startled me, and I stood, wiping my eyes as I made my way to the front of the house. The voices outside were growing louder, angrier, but the sight that greeted me
when I opened the window to see..
Nathan stood there, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, his expression a mix of
frustration and desperation. The crowd outside seemed to take this as some sort of
confirmation that he had cheated on me, that I was the wronged party, and they started smashing things in anger.
“Doris, I-” Nathan began, but before he could finish, the situation erupted. The rogue. wolves and unknowns in the crowd began to attack, their fury spilling over as they lashed. out at everything in their path. Nathan was in the thick of it, fighting them off even as they
landed blow after blow.
My house had been taken over before, and it looked like it was happening again. Only this time, Nathan was here, and instead of leaving apathetically like he used to, he was out there, his shoulders stiff with tension.
The wolves wasted no time. I heard glass shattering downstairs, the unmistakable crash of something being smashed against the walls.
Nathan stood his ground in the front yard, glaring at the intruders. His hands clenched into fists, and I could see the muscles in his neck tense as he struggled to maintain his composure, I should’ve felt something–a flicker of hope that maybe this time, he’d finally stand up for himself, for me, for the life we had once shared. But all I could do was watch with indifference, detached from the chaos unraveling below.
“Nathan!” one of the gues
s sucered, tossing a chair through the open window. “You’re going to stand there like a coward, or are you going to do something?”
Nathan’s jaw tightened. He took a step forward, but he wasn’t backing down this time. The rogue closest to him–a tall, broad–shouldered wolf with a scar running down his cheek–lunged first. I watched as Nathan braced himself, taking the blow to his shoulder, but it didn’t faze him. He twisted around, delivering a punch square to the rogue’s jaw. The sickening crunch of bone meeting bone echoed through the air.
The fight had begun.
The other rogues joined in, circling Nathan like predators. One of them–a scrappy, wiry wolf with quick reflexes–leapt at Nathan from behind, claws extended. Nathan ducked just in time, spinning around to grab the wolf by the arm and throw him against the side of the house. The impact sent a shockwave through the walls, and I felt it upstairs, the tremor vibrating beneath my feet.
For a moment, Nathan wasn’t the same passive man he used to be. He fought like a wolf cornered, like someone who had finally been pushed too far. His movements were calculated, his punches deliberate. The scarred rogue came at him again, swinging a knife, but Nathan sidestepped, grabbing the rogue’s arm and twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. With a swift kick to the rogue’s knee, Nathan sent him sprawling.
But it wasn’t enough. The rogues kept coming.
Blood poured from Nathan’s head, running down his face in dark, crimson streaks. But he kept fighting. His breathing was labored now, each punch slower than the last, but the
were tiring too. They hadn’t expected this kind of resistance. One by one, they began to falter, backing away as Nathan stood tall, bloodied but unbroken.
rogues
Nathan stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His face was covered in blood, a gash above his eyebrow still leaking. His knuckles were raw and bruised, and there were cuts along his arms where the rogues had gotten in a few good swipes. But he had won.
Nathan wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, but it didn’t help much. He still looked like he’d just walked through hell. I watched as he bent down, picked up something from the ground, and started walking toward the door.
A bouquet of roses.
The bouquet of roses in his arms hadn’t been harmed by the fight, was still bright and
beautiful.
But sadly, I’m allergic to them.
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