Two Alphas, One Little Rogue

The Silver Crown aristocracy's Alphas shared a common affliction: their brains were about as useful as the fangs they took such pride in—good for nothing but posturing.

"You cheated, you gutter-born bastard!"

Bang. The young noble across from me slammed his palms onto the table and surged to his feet. The gambling table shuddered violently, sending several gold coins rolling to the toe of my boot.

A wave of cloying cologne mixed with the acrid scent of an enraged Alpha crashed over me.

I lounged back in my chair, boots propped on the table's edge, hat brim pulled low enough to hide the upper half of my face.

"Show some respect, Master Baird. 'A bet's a bet'—that's the Moon Goddess's own rule. Your Full House was impressive, I'll grant you. Pity my hole cards just happened to be a Royal Flush."

I tapped the two cards I'd just turned face-up on the felt.

Deafening laughter erupted through the tavern.

This was the Broken Tooth Tavern, on the capital's fringe—a melting pot of every stripe of society. But young lords like Baird, sneaking out of the Upper City for thrills, clearly hadn't learned to tuck tail on someone else's territory.

"I don't believe it!" Baird seethed, half-climbing the table to grab my collar.

His pupils dilated uncontrollably with rage, bleeding into the eerie green of the wolf—half-shifting was imminent.

"Whoa there, young master, easy does it!"

A slight figure slipped through the crowd like an eel, planting himself between us.

Miles. He soothed the berserk noble with exaggerated cheer while his hands swept the entire pile of gold coins into a worn canvas sack with practiced speed.

"Little Rogue's famous for its luck, you know. If you can't afford to lose, go play house at an Upper City tea party. Why come slumming it with us beggars?"

Miles grinned, revealing a chipped front tooth.

As a bottom-rung Omega who could never shift, Miles carried not a whiff of pheromones—but that didn't stop him from owning the fastest mouth and the fastest hands in the capital.

"You're dead!" Baird snapped completely, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

I sighed, toe tapping the table's underside. My chair slid back half a meter, smooth as silk.

The instant Baird lunged, I snatched the mug of cheap ale and threw it square in his face.

"Run!"

Miles bolted for the back door like a rabbit. I followed close behind, vaulting the window frame amid curses from bouncers and the noble brat alike, dropping into the capital's damp, cold night.

We sprinted through three winding alleys before stopping, certain the revolting cologne scent had faded.

"Clean haul—fifty gold crowns!" Miles leaned against a dripping brick wall, gulping air. "Rogue, the way you threw that ale in that stupid wolf's face—priceless!"

I chuckled softly, saying nothing.

The night wind cut through the alley. I instinctively pulled my rough linen jacket tighter.

The garment did double duty: it hid my feminine curves, and it reeked of the slums' cheap tobacco and the "Bone-corroding grass" juice I smeared on before every outing.

A pungent, coarse herb. Sharp and gritty, it perfectly masked my natural scent—moonlight and floral fragrance. Even at that distance, that idiot Baird hadn't caught a hint. He only smelled a penniless, sweaty gutter rat sitting across from him.

No one knew the notorious street hustler "Little Rogue," the headache of every capital noble, was actually the daughter of General Hale—Silver Crown's most revered commander.

If my stubborn, conservative foster father knew his precious daughter Serena Hale—who should've been practicing embroidery and tea ceremony at the estate—had just swindled a hereditary earl's son in an underground casino, he'd probably drop dead of apoplexy on the spot.

But I had no choice.

"Let's go." I took the heavy sack from Miles, weighing it in my hand. "Got real business tonight."

We cut through the capital's bustling central square, avoiding patrol guards, heading downward into the "Lower City."

Here, the air held no roast meat or noblewomen's perfume—only damp mold, festering wounds, and the thick, insoluble despair of low-ranking wolves and orphans.

As the border war escalated, the three territories' Alphas drove countless low-ranking wolves from their homes fighting for land and resources. Every day, newly widowed Omegas and skeletal pups flooded the capital. And the noble council? They simply bolted the Upper City's iron gates and left them to rot.

"Big brother Rogue!"

The moment we entered the refugee camp—shanties of scrap wood and leaky oilcloth—several children in threadbare rags swarmed us.

Tiny. Too young to control their shifts; a couple still had mud-caked wolf ears poking through their hair.

I crouched, ruffling one child's head through my gloves.

I dared not remove them. My skin was too pale, too clean—nothing like a street rat's.

"Here, Aunt Elara." I pressed the sack into the one-armed elderly Omega's hands. "Fifty gold. Buy winter herbs on the black market, get some real meat. Winter's coming. The kids can't survive on watery gruel alone."

Aunt Elara clutched the sack with her remaining hand, cloudy eyes brimming.

"May the Moon Goddess bless you, Little Rogue. Without this, our orphans wouldn't see the first snow."

"In this gods-forsaken capital, only cold hard cash can protect you, Auntie." I twisted a self-mocking smile.

I stood, yanking my battered newsboy cap lower, double-checking nothing betrayed my sex.

Listening to the cheers rising behind me, I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.

I was supposed to be a general's daughter lounging on velvet cushions, waiting for some powerful Alpha to claim me.

But I was also Little Rogue.

As long as those bloodsucking nobles kept squeezing the innocent, my game would never end.

"Come on, Miles." I turned, striding toward the slum's exit, superior hearing catching the distant changof-guard horns.

"This money lasts them two weeks, tops. We need to find the next mark."

Miles fell in step, rubbing his hands, voice low: "Hey, heard a Northvale caravan's entering the capital in a few days. Word is they're hauling a whole train of priceless treasures. That's a whale."

My stride faltered. Pupils narrowing beneath my brim.

"Oh?" I licked my lips, a dangerous smile curling my mouth. "Sounds like it'll pay a hell of a lot better than Master Baird."