Chapter 5 The Rogue's Return
Wynter's POV
"We need to move," Rosalie hissed, grabbing my arm as the patrol radio crackled closer. "Now."
I didn't argue. The three of us slipped through the dispersing crowd, Rosalie leading us down a side corridor away from the main courtyard. Behind us, I heard the sharp commands of patrol officers arriving at the scene.
We ducked into a narrow alcove between buildings—recycling bins and maintenance equipment providing just enough cover. The shadows hid us from casual view as we pressed against the cool brick wall.
Jax positioned himself at the edge, watching the patrol officers comb through the courtyard.
"Three guards," he murmured. "Heading toward admin."
We waited in tense silence until the sound of boots faded.
"They're gone." His shoulders relaxed slightly.
Rosalie's stomach growled—loud enough to echo off the brick walls.
She flushed. "Sorry. Skipped breakfast."
I checked my watch. Past noon. "Cafeteria?"
"Cafeteria," she agreed.
"If anyone starts something—" Jax began.
"We walk away," I said firmly. "No more fights today."
The cafeteria was packed when we arrived, the lunch rush in full swing. Conversations faltered as we walked in, heads turning in our direction. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—a hundred pairs of eyes tracking our every move, some curious, some hostile, most just waiting to see what we'd do next.
"Here we go," Rosalie muttered.
The line for food parted almost instantly. No one dared stand in front of us, their wary glances darting between Jax and me.
We loaded our trays quickly—though my appetite was almost nonexistent—and scanned for somewhere to sit. Rosalie pointed to the far corner, the most secluded spot available, tucked behind a structural pillar that offered at least the illusion of privacy.
"There. That corner."
We made our way over, the weight of judgment following us like a physical thing. I forced myself not to look back, not to acknowledge the phones I knew were pointed at us.
Once seated, Rosalie leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "Okay. I need to know. How do you two actually know each other?"
I glanced at Jax, silently asking permission. He gave a small nod.
"I met him when I was six," I said quietly. "He was four. His Pack had just exiled him. By the time I found him near the border, he was half-dead from starvation."
Rosalie's eyes widened. "You were six? And you found a Rogue child?"
"I wasn't supposed to be there," I admitted. "But when I saw him..." I looked at Jax, remembering that tiny, terrified boy. "He was too weak to run. So I sat down and gave him the bread I'd brought."
"She came back whenever she could slip away," Jax said softly. "Sometimes every few days, sometimes a week would pass. But she always came back. For months, she kept me alive."
"Your parents never found out?" Rosalie asked.
I shook my head. "If they had, they would've stopped me. Helping Rogues is forbidden. But I couldn't let him die."
"What happened after?" Rosalie pressed gently.
Jax's expression darkened. "Her parents eventually found out. Forbade her from seeing me." He looked at me with understanding. "I knew she didn't have a choice."
"I thought about you every day," I said quietly.
"When I was twelve or thirteen, I came back," Jax continued. "Stayed in the forests near your territory—close enough to watch over you."
My throat tightened. "You've been watching over me all this time?"
"Always," he said simply.
Rosalie looked at Jax with new respect. "Wait, but how did you even get into the academy? You're a Rogue."
"The Rogue Rehabilitation Program," Jax said with a slight, bitter smirk. "It's mostly PR. But it got me in."
"So you're here officially?"
"Officially, I'm a charity case," Jax said dryly. "Really, I'm here to make sure no one hurts Wynter again."
Despite everything, I found myself smiling.
Movement caught my eye. Anne Kaine, flanked by Natalie and Vivian, walking straight toward us. My stomach sank.
"Great," Rosalie muttered. "Just what we needed."
Anne stopped in front of our table, arms crossed, her posture radiating condescension. "Well, well. The cursed Beta, her little sidekick, and their new pet Rogue."
I set down my fork carefully, hands curling into fists on the table. "What do you want, Anne?"
She tilted her head, smile sharp as glass. "Just checking on you, Wynter. Though I didn't expect you'd have a stray mutt by your side."
"He's not a stray," I said through gritted teeth. "His name is Jax. And he's worth ten of you."
Anne laughed, cold and brittle. "Please. He's a Rogue. He's less than nothing."
Jax stood slowly, placing himself between me and Anne. His voice was dangerously calm. "You talk a lot for someone who's never had to fight for anything. Why don't you try picking on someone who can actually fight back?"
Anne's eyes flashed, her claws emerging instinctively. "What did you just say to me, Rogue?"
"You heard me," Jax said evenly. "You're a bully and a coward. The only reason you get away with it is because no one's ever stood up to you. But that changes now."
Anne's expression twisted, but Jax continued before she could speak.
"Real strength isn't about rank or bloodlines. It's about surviving when everything's trying to kill you. It's about protecting the people who matter." His eyes bored into hers. "You wouldn't last a day outside these walls."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Every remaining student had stopped pretending not to stare. Phones were out, clearly recording. The cafeteria had become a theater, and we were center stage.
Anne's eyes flashed with fury, but then her expression shifted—cooling into something far more dangerous. Her claws retracted slowly, deliberately.
"You think you're intimidating?" she said, her tone cutting like a scalpel. "How adorable. You're a Rogue playing dress-up in a world you'll never belong to."
She pulled out her phone, tapping the screen with deliberate slowness. Then she turned it toward us.
On the screen was video footage—Jax slamming his fist into Hale's face, over and over. The angle was perfect, clearly showing the violence but conveniently cutting off whatever had provoked it.
"Already sent this to my father," Anne said sweetly. "He sits on the disciplinary board, you know." She slipped the phone back into her pocket. "I'm sure he'll find it... educational."
Her gaze slid to me. "And Wynter? Aligning yourself with this filth only proves what everyone already suspected about cursed wolves like you. Bad blood recognizes bad blood."
She paused, letting the words sink in. "The Council loves making examples of wolves who forget their place—and trust me, the three of you are already on their radar." Her smile turned razor-sharp. "You exist only because we allow it—and that tolerance has limits."
She didn't wait for a response. With a dismissive flick of her hair, she turned and walked away, Natalie and Vivian following like shadows.
We sat in tense silence. Despite the oppressive attention, I refused to be driven out. We stayed, enduring the stares and whispers as we finished our meal.
I kept my head high, but my wolf was restless beneath my skin, wanting to bare her teeth at every hostile glance.
Then I heard Anne's voice again—distant but clear, just outside the cafeteria entrance. She was speaking to someone, her tone helpful, almost saccharine.
"They're inside. Far corner, behind the pillar on the left."
My blood ran cold.
Before I could react, patrol guards entered the cafeteria, their gazes sweeping the room with practiced efficiency. One of them spotted us immediately.
They approached with purposeful strides, stopping at our table.
The lead guard pointed at each of us in turn. "You, her, and the Rogue. Headmaster Grey wants to see all of you. Now."
I exchanged a worried glance with Jax and Rosalie.
"Fine," I said, lifting my chin and forcing steel into my voice. "Let's go."
As we stood, I caught a glimpse of Anne through the cafeteria windows, her expression triumphant.
This wasn't over.
