eighty six

Logan had been waiting for a long time.

He was standing in the part of the woods that faced the border, with a hundred and fifty well-armed warriors. The whole forest was silent and tense, almost as though all the animals were joining in the wait for the arrival of the Rogue King.

He had sent Casper ahead with a couple of other warriors to scan the land ahead and send word when they noticed the arrival of the Rogue King. He had told his beta to wave a red flag when coming to indicate that battle was near. So far it had been four hours since he sent Casper out, and he was feeling as harried and on edge as a father expecting his newborn child.

He was seated on a white stallion, bred specially for the use of alphas in the pack. His hair was packed up in a man bun and he was dressed in black fighting gear. He had smeared black paint across both of his cheeks, as well as all the other warriors that stood behind him. He raised a hand and pulled at the tight material on his neck uncomfortabl