INTRODUCTION
Malodorous odour filled the atmosphere engulfed in smoke. Cruel laughter of the rogues was the only sound which could be heard in between the chaos trying to shatter the foundation of humanity.
The houses were ransacked brutally and again a whole village was wiped out without a spilling a single drop of blood.
The King of Rogues watched the whole ordeal without blinking, he despised those weak creatures who didn't used their full potential to achieve what is fated, instead they accepted to be tied down to a mate and live the live of nothingness.
He killed his own mate with his bare hands, the shine dimming in her eyes satisfied him to his core, no more interruptions and obstacles in his ambition.
And now his ultimate dream was coming true and soon he would be the undisputed King of the werewolves.
All because of her. The Rouge King wrapped his arm around her shoulders trying to distract the petite girl but she remained rooted in her position. He hated everything which could be breathing but her......oh! he loved her.
Why wouldn't he? She was his strength, his biggest weapon but was she? No the girl was his pride. The only thing which he loved far more than his ambition.
On the other hand her mind was swirling with self loathing and soul being devastated.....again. She was the reason of this catastrophe, was the sole reason why the Rogue King managed to win each and every battle without losing a single soldier.
A lone tear trailed down her cheek followed by others.
"Hush sweetheart, don't cry. You saved them, no one died." Her head snapped to him in fury.
"You are a monster!"
"No my love, you are a monster." His hand gently moved her chin in the direction of the destruction.
"Look at their figures, once living but now carved into stone, heart no longer beating and blood no longer flowing, they are dead and sweetheart I didn't made them that way, you did. You took their chance of life away."
"My Lord! The victory is ours."
"I KNOW YOU FOOL! MOVE AWAY FROM HER SIDE." The rogues were not all bad and the perfect example of that was the subordinate commander Lucien.
He saw her crying and couldn't help himself but scoot closer to comfort her. She was dear to Lucien and his heart clenched when he realized it was inevitable that she would be used again and again till her soul cracks with the burden of lives she had taken.
And the day was not far when the filthy Rogue king paints the entire kingdom red with blood to ascend the throne.
But if the Rogue King would be the Highest Lycanthrope Monarch, what would it make the silver haired girl who had her small fists clenched and crystal tears streaming down her face?
It will make her the heir of the throne of Lycanthrope, the only daughter of the Rogue King- Princess Medusa.
Oh you wish it was that simple.