My Best Friend Sold Me to the Rogue King

The first thing I noticed was the smell—a sickening mixture of sweat, fear, and something wild and feral. My head throbbed as consciousness returned, the wolfsbane still clouding my thoughts. I tried to move, but my wrists were bound with coarse rope that bit into my skin.

"She's awake," a gruff voice announced.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. I was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, but the walls were reinforced with metal plates and the windows were barred. The floor was concrete, stained with what looked disturbingly like dried blood.

"Fresh meat," another voice said, and laughter followed.

I struggled to sit up, taking in my surroundings. I was in a cage—an actual cage—made of silver-infused bars that burned against my skin when I accidentally touched them. Across the room were more cages, each containing terrified female wolves, their eyes hollow with despair.

"Where am I?" My voice came out as a croak.

"Welcome to the Black Market Auction House," said a tall man with a scar running down his face. "You're the newest addition to tonight's inventory."

Inventory. The word made my stomach turn.

"Kiana," I whispered. "She did this."

"Your friend? Yeah, she's a regular supplier." He smirked. "Brings us the best broken toys."

The door at the far end of the warehouse swung open, and a hush fell over the room. A man entered—tall, imposing, with eyes so dark they seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Power radiated from him in waves that made even the guards straighten their postures.

Viktor Blackwood. The Rogue King.

He moved through the room with predatory grace, inspecting each cage. When he reached mine, he crouched down, his fingers gripping the bars.

"This one's different," he murmured, studying me with clinical interest. "Dirt can't hide that face. And that scent..."

He inhaled deeply, his eyes widening slightly. "What are you?"

"I'm nobody," I whispered.

His laugh was cold. "No. You're something special. The Main Event."

He nodded to his guards, who unlocked my cage and dragged me out. I fought wildly, but in my weakened state, it was useless. They forced me to my knees before Viktor.

"Put this on her," he ordered, holding out a silver collar studded with black stones.

"No!" I thrashed against their hold. "Please!"

The collar snapped around my neck, and white-hot pain seared through me. I screamed as it seemed to sink into my skin, leaving a burning band of metal that couldn't be removed.

"What is this?" I gasped.

"A silencer," Viktor replied casually. "It blocks mind-links. Can't have you calling for help, can we?"

My blood ran cold as I realized what this meant—I couldn't reach my father anymore.

---

Miles away, in a fortress carved into the mountainside, Noah Simpson paced his study like a caged animal. His face, usually a mask of controlled power, was twisted with barely contained rage.

"Father?" His Beta, Marcus Reed, stood in the doorway, watching anxiously.

"She's gone silent," Noah growled, pressing his fingers to his temples. "The connection is blocked."

"Blocked? That's not possible unless—"

"Unless she's wearing a silencer." Noah's eyes flashed golden. "Or she's dead."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.

"We need to find her," Marcus said firmly. "Now."

Noah nodded, his composure returning like a steel mask sliding into place. "Summon the Lycan Guard. All of them."

Marcus's eyes widened. The Lycan Guard was Noah's elite force—warriors twice the size of normal wolves, each capable of taking down an Alpha single-handedly.

"And contact the Silvermoon Pack," Noah continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I want Cason Duncan here. Now."

"Father, if he's harmed her—"

"If he's killed my daughter," Noah cut in, "there won't be enough left of him to bury."

---

In the Silvermoon Pack house, Cason Duncan stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor that hadn't been there before.

"Alpha?" A Beta called through the door. "There's a messenger from Alpha King Noah Simpson demanding to see you immediately."

Cason's head snapped up. "Noah Simpson? Here?"

"He's not here yet, but his messenger says it's urgent."

Cason stumbled out of the bathroom, still weak from the hollow feeling that had plagued him since rejecting Nola. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.

"Where's Kiana?" he demanded.

"In the kitchen, Alpha."

Cason found her there, whispering with a group of females. She looked up when he entered, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked without preamble. "Why would Noah Simpson send a messenger?"

Kiana's expression flickered before settling into concerned innocence. "I don't know. Maybe it's about pack business?"

"Nola," he said suddenly. "Where is she?"

Kiana's smile faltered. "She... she ran away. After you rejected her, she couldn't face the shame. She joined a rogue pack."

Something cold settled in Cason's stomach. He studied Kiana's face, seeing for the first time the calculation behind her eyes.

"You're lying," he whispered.

For a moment, genuine fear flashed across her face before she composed herself. "I'm not. She's gone, Cason. Forget about her."

But as Cason turned away, a strange scent caught his attention—Nola's scent, faint but unmistakable, leading toward the pack borders and beyond.

"I need to check something," he muttered, following the scent trail before Kiana could stop him.