Chapter 19: The Rogues
The group's collective gaze snapped towards Gideon, a towering figure with a strong, burly build and rough-hewn features that seemed chiseled from granite. His handsome face twisted in shock as he bolted from his seat.
"What?!" Gideon's deep voice thundered through the camp, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and incredulity. "How? Who killed him?"
The reporter swallowed hard before responding, "Luna Reana."
Gideon's expression transformed from shock to awe, his voice laced with a hint of reverence. "Reana? How did she do that? She's just a weak woman."
The room fell silent, the weight of the news settling heavy on the group. Their minds reeling with the implications. There were four major rogue groups who had formed an uneasy alliance, united by a single goal; to take down the Black Moon Pack before winter. Gideon, Moss, Victor, and Roman were the strongest amongst their respective groups, each wielding significant power and influence.
Though distrust simmered between the rogue groups, they had chosen to put aside their differences and work together. But now, with Roman's death, the fragile balance of power had shifted, and Gideon couldn't help but wonder what this meant for their plans – They'd lost one group and this matter didn't sit well with the lots of them.
"Roman's death is not only a loss, but a significant blow to our plans," Victor spat, his deep, animalistic voice venomous with rage. His long, unkempt red hair seemed to bristle with fury, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity.
"I want her dead, and I want it to happen now!" Victor's massive fist slammed onto the table, but before he could shatter it, Moss, a hulking barbarian of a man, beat him to it. Moss's massive fist crashed down, splintering the wooden table in half and sending shards flying everywhere. The others in the room jumped back, startled by the sudden outburst.
The camp fell silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two men as they struggled to contain their fury. Victor's face was purpling with rage, his eyes bulging from their sockets. Moss's massive chest heaved with each breath, his fists still clenched and ready to strike.