Rogue

This is completely my own work. Similarity to any other works are completely coincidental. This may not be copied, built upon or re written in any way. Rogue should not be seen on any site, under any names other than my own.

ROGUE (c) Olivia Moore / Jisabella. All Rights Reserved.

COVER (c) Olivia Moore / Jisabella. IMAGES (c) EternalOcean and FreeDreamsDesigns on dA

THIRD BOOK IN THE SURVIVAL SERIES

------------

The morning was brisk. Their breath sent plumes into the early morning air as they emerged from the cellar doors that used to lead down into Kirsten's makeshift shelter and intelligence operation. No one had said much of a word since waking up and making the unanimous, silent decision to get out of New York City the moment they'd all gotten some rest. Diana hadn't managed to sleep much. She doubted anyone else had either, but they'd had to try.

After all, there was a long, uncertain road ahead of them now.

Locked away in the underground warehouse, they'd felt the weight of unrest on them. Yet now that they had left their own sequestered, safe place in the universe, Diana felt the burden weigh on her even more.

The cellar doors clanged shut and Kirsten snapped the lock closed for the last time. After the riot of the previous night (how could it have only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago), the world had destabilised - and the evidence was clear in the quiet street around them.

Windows were shattered, cars abandoned, graffiti scrawled across the old brick of the block across from them.

GO HOME FREAKS

Diana snorted as she read the crude, hastily spray-painted hate speech. Go home? Where did people think werewolves came from? Had they emerged like aliens from another planet?

"We'd better get going," Daniel said tersely, and she knew he was as unsettled by it all as she was.

In the distance, and maybe not even that far away, Diana could hear sirens. Actually, if she listened more closely she could distinguish many sets of sirens, some quieter and further away than others. She inhaled deeply and caught the tang of smoke on the air. Fire, somewhere. Not close enough to worry about.

The four of them followed Daniel to the car that had brought them to New York as quickly as it could. Not fast enough, Diana thought as she looked over the tense lines of Daniel's shoulders and spared a glance for the deep worry around Eric Bradley's eyes.

How was it that just a week ago they'd all been living their lives? Worried about the coming change (the coming revolution), but still existing in some sort of normality. But yesterday afternoon a radical group had taken hold of a mall in an attempt on Liam Hall's life, and yesterday night Stephanie Armstrong had been exposed as a murderer and all hell had broken loose.

And now, as Diana looked about her at the faces of the only people she could trust in the world, everything had changed beyond recovery.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Daniel spat as they reached the car.

Diana was about to ask when she realised what she was talking about. The car window had been smashed in, which on its own was an inconvenience at most, but the tires had also been slashed. They stood and stared in silence, listening to the sirens and scenting the fire and hearing the yells beyond this one quiet street, and felt an insurmountable fear beginning to creep in past the shocked numbness they'd all surrendered to overnight.

"What are we going to do?" Caroline asked.

Diana's shoulders tightened at the uncertainty, the blatant fear in the young alpha's voice. Daniel swore and slammed a hand down on the roof of the car. Eric was about to speak when a squad car squealed past at full pelt, sirens wailing. They were all crouched behind the car before they could even wonder how it had come so close without them noticing.