All eyes turned to us when we entered the courtyard: the arrival of five wolves was enough to distract the rogues from their leader's argument with his son. Brandon's insolent gaze slid over me and straight to Rhys, where his eyes acquired a sly look which I didn't trust an inch.

But the main focus of his attention, to my surprise, seemed to be Fion. He growled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like mate. Fion's wolf recognised him, too, and let out a cautious whine.

That was all it took for Brandon to stride over to her and growl again viciously. All the males near her, including Callum and Leo, scampered sideways and even Rhys took a few paces backwards. You don't mess with someone's mate, especially before they're marked. When Brandon reached her, he placed a hand on her neck in a way that was far too possessive for my liking and pulled her towards his body, inhaling her scent.

I'll never forget the look in Rhodric's eyes when he realised that Fion and Brandon were mates: disappointment and what I guess was fear — he knew the truth about his eldest son. I was only suspicious of Brandon at the time, which is why I stayed close to Fion and watched his every move like a hawk.

"Brandon Llewellyn," he introduced himself. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I know who you are," she said into an open link. The undercurrent of insolence made me incredibly proud. "Fion."

"Hello, Fion. If you'd excuse me for a minute..." It didn't take Brandon long to recover from meeting his mate, because he turned to face Rhys's wolf and smiled with far less of the earlier spite. "Hey, little brother. It's been too long."

Rhys wagged his tail once hesitantly in response. Other than that, he just watched Brandon with wary interest.

"You didn't tell me Rhys had found his mate," he said roughly. It was accompanied by a gesture to me. Normally Brandon probably wouldn't have taken the blindest bit of interest in an average-sized female rogue. But I had been leading a pack which included his brother, and I had stayed beside Fion despite his wolf's clear command.

"The dark wolf?" Rhodric laughed, but it felt strained. "That's Skye. You might want to watch out for her. And she's not mated to your brother. I adopted her."

"Oh, that's Skye," Brandon laughed. He glanced back at Leo, who averted his eyes. Something about the whole interaction rubbed me up the wrong way. My hackles rose.

It was Rhodric's turn to look at Leo, and his eyes narrowed a fraction. "Yes, but don't bother getting acquainted, because you're not staying long."

"I just found my mate! Of course I'm staying! I already explained — we had trouble with the ferals in the west. It wasn't safe to stay and it's only a few months until I turn twenty-four, which is when I could come home anyway," Brandon insisted. I did not like his tone one bit. Not even flockies dared to speak to my father with such obvious disdain.

Rhodric narrowed his eyes and sighed heavily. "There's no use shouting at me, boy. It's Rhys's decision. He's the one you nearly killed."

"How many times have I apologised for that? I was fifteen — a stupid kid, and he started it," Brandon growled.

I snorted. Blaming Rhys for what happened only proved he was still a stupid kid, but he heard and singled me out for a long, vicious growl. There was no small amount of force in it — Brandon had Alpha blood and a nasty temper. My wolf seemed to just soak it up, allowing me to avoid submission and snarl back. I was trying to provoke him, to prove to Rhodric that he couldn't be trusted.

The plan worked — Brandon took a furious step towards me. But Rhys, in one his rare moments of sensibility, stepped between us.

"Bran can stay," Rhys projected through the mind-link to all of us. He then added privately to me, "Do you have a death wish? You're good at fighting, Skye. But he's better. You'll lose, and you'll die."

It was obvious that he'd long since forgiven his brother or was desperately trying to, so I didn't argue.

Brandon smirked, "That's settled, then. Go shift."

The last two words were directed at the five of us, which my wolf didn't like at all. I was about to challenge him about it, but Rhys, sensing my intention, nudged me towards the entrance. Instead of trotting away like a good little soldier, I did exactly what I'd been raised to do and lifted my tail, put my ears back and walked over to Rhodric's side.

He smiled in approval and rubbed the skin behind my ears, while I stared defiantly at Brandon. Fion, however, had a very submissive wolf. So no matter how little she liked it, she was bullied into leaving with Leo and Callum. Rhys was trying to avoid picking a side by lingering in the shadows of the eaves.

Rhodric then raised his voice so that the whole courtyard could hear him. "We need to set up camp. Split into three groups — and for Goddess' sake, let's get this done before nightfall. Skye will lead the tent building effort. Kindly take any queries and problems to her."

Everyone moved to help, with the notable exception of Brandon.

"What about me?" he demanded. "What am I in charge of?"

"You can help set up tents," Rhodric answered with a hint of sly amusement.

"Will you at least let me teach that bitch a lesson first?" Brandon asked. He was looking at me with something close to disgust, and I was returning it with interest.

"Her name is Skye, and there'll be no need for that," Rhodric replied icily. "If you want to command, learn how to obey."

"I don't take orders from females."

Rhodric's hand sensibly closed around my scruff, successfully stopping me from ripping out that sexist bastard's throat there and then. Brandon growled at me for what seemed like the hundredth time. To Rhys's credit, he then finally made his stand. And he chose Rhodric and me. Brandon's eyes narrowed at the sight of his brother's defection.

"Skye, I suggest you ignore my son," Rhodric said loudly. "It must be his time of the month."

He stared at Brandon, daring him to argue. But the young man just lowered his head to hide his scowl. Even the puffed-up douchebag knew he couldn't win that fight.

Rhodric grinned. "Now if you're done acting like a toddler on steroids, get moving. Those tents aren't going to build themselves."

As I was about to leave with the others, Rhodric leant down to whisper, "Tread carefully, Skye. Brandon is a dangerous man, and you've just made an enemy out of him."

I gave him a lopsided stare; I didn't really believe it. The words didn't sink home because I was certain that Brandon wouldn't try anything. Not here, not in my home, not amongst people who had known me since I was a child. So I carried on with my business, and any worries faded from my mind.

First, I went into one of the crumbling rooms and shifted there. My duffel bag contained jeans and a burgundy fleece-hoodie. We got all our clothes second-hand because of a lack of money so there was never much choice in what you wore — they were all practical and warm. I never wore a dress in my life.

Then I led a group of three dozen rogues to a hillside beside the castle. The majority of us slept on the ground with only fabric to protect them from the elements, but the younger children and elderly had mattresses in the few intact rooms.

Brandon came with us, bringing five of his own men. I only knew Leo and Callum — the others were all strangers who hadn't set foot in camp for nearly ten years. I had no doubts he would use them to take command, despite his father's orders.

Within seconds of reaching the tent bags, I was proved right. Brandon started issuing orders to my group of rogues as well as his own.

"You lot set up the pavilion by the stream, the rest of you put up the sleeping tents under the trees where it's sheltered—"

I folded my arms across my chest and cut over his commands. "Bad Plan. That's a floodplain right there. It'll be covered in water in a few days. And storms often blow down those trees. If you want to sleep in a puddle and get crushed in the night, then those are great places to pitch the tents."

All the wolves stopped where they were and looked at me instead. That's rogues for you. They listened to whomever they want, depending on their mood and what was being offered. I proceeded to direct them as we set up the pavilion in the centre of a field and all the tents spiralling around it. Setting them up took the rest of the afternoon, even with shifter strength.

Brandon threw the adult equivalent of a tantrum: growling and muttering, then completely ignoring my advice and setting up two tents right next to the river, where as far as I was concerned, he could drown.

Personally, I had a den in the castle. It was a plastic sheet hung in front of a deep archway, where I could lay my sleeping bag alongside Rhys and Fion's. It was cold and draughty, but also dry and private.

When we had finished, I made my way over to the hall of the castle, which served as a canteen. With a mostly-intact ceiling, it was the social area as well as the eating hall. And before we had discovered the cellar rooms, the canteen had also been a storm shelter. Here, Maggie and her minions prepared meals for several hundred of us, three times a day.

Grabbing a plate of rice with lentils, beans and ground beef, I squeezed onto a bench between Fion and Davies. I got on well with him, even if he had tried to beat me up when we first met. Along with a boy called Ollie, he was one of the few people we bothered to hang out with regularly.

I dug into the meal happily. Our food was foraged or bought with cost in mind. So Maggie did the best with what she was given. And her best wasn't half bad.

To my dismay, Brandon chose our table. It might have been because he didn't know anyone else, and rogues can get quite possessive of their canteen tables. He sat right next to Fion and glared at Davies for even being close to her.

"What are you doing with him? You're mine — you shouldn't be anywhere near other males," he told her roughly.

"He's just a friend," Fion protested quietly.

"Well, you're going to stay away from him until you're marked," Brandon replied angrily.

That just made me mad; sexism was still a big issue with werewolves, especially in the packs. Rogues tended to have gender equality, at least until possessive bastards like Brandon came into the picture. "You don't own her. She can do what she wants," I told him.

Leo plopped down opposite me and sighed quietly. He gave me a sympathetic look which was strangely reassuring. This wasn't normal, it told me, and I wasn't the only one who wouldn't put up with Brandon's bullshit.

"She's mine and she'll do as I tell her."

Luckily, Rhys chose that moment to push in between me and Davies. "Hey, Skye. Hey, Fion. What are we talking about?"

"We were just discussing the feud between Riverside and New Dawn, weren't we, Fion?" Brandon said, trying and failing to hide his annoyance at Rhys's proximity to his mate.

Fion nodded miserably and picked at her food. Rhys seemed to notice her reluctance but didn't comment, while I narrowed my eyes at Brandon.

"I heard the Alpha and Luna will be away from New Dawn tomorrow. It'll be the perfect time to drop by," my brother said with a suggestive grin.

"How on earth do you know that? An Alpha's absence isn't common knowledge." I was incredulous. Packs would do anything to keep that information quiet because it made them so vulnerable to lowlife scum like us.

"I have my sources," he replied cryptically.

"Does your source have a name?" I questioned. How Rhys could have met someone I didn't know in that pack, I had no idea. I spent the overwhelming majority of my time with him, and all of his friends were my friends too.

Rhys smirked, smug. "The source wishes to remain anonymous."

"Is it Dan? You don't know anyone else in that pack. It has to be Dan." I was referring to the Luna's brother who had used to be a rogue.

He scowled and folded his arms, "I'll have you know that I have plenty of flockie friends other than Dan. Why would he tell me, anyway? He's part of New Dawn now and he knows what we're like."

"You probably pushed into his mind when his guard was down. It's not that difficult," Fion suggested, still picking at her food and not making eye contact.

"Not that difficult for you, you mean," I muttered. "Not all of us are gifted with overpowered mind skills."

In reply, Fion just pressed a few buttons on her phone and the chorus of 'Born This Way' started playing on full volume. I rolled my eyes and got ready to complain, but Brandon suddenly pushed his way back into the conversation.

"So that's settled then, I'll lead a mission to raid New Dawn pack tomorrow." He glared at Fion until she turned off the music.

"Whoa there. Who says you're leading?" I asked, having no desire to submit to Brandon's commands.

"Who says you're coming?" Brandon retorted. He dropped his spoon and stood up suddenly. He left the hall and pulled Fion with him, probably to going to ask his father for permission for a raid. Leo gave his unfinished dinner a lingering look, sighed again, and then trailed behind them.

"Who spat in his cornflakes?" I muttered. No one had an answer.

We picked up their plates as well as our own and took them to the washing-up bowl — a huge tub filled with soapy water. Everyone washed their own dishes, but Brandon obviously thought he was above that.

We all pulled our weight around here; there were kitchen and firewood rotas, as well as compulsory patrol for the trained fighters. My siblings and I usually opted for patrol, because it was dangerous and we were easily bored.

Having nothing useful to do, I made my way over to the sleeping quarters and snuggled into my sleeping bag. I opened my latest book from Shadowless Pack's library — The Hunger Games, and struggled to read it for the next half hour. My education had been severely neglected, which was entirely my own fault (running the woods with the other children was a lot more exciting than studying), and only Fion out of all the rogues my age could read properly. I still had to sound out the longer words in my head.

Rhys crawled into his bed a few hours later, and Fion came in just before midnight. Even with the darkness and her attempts to hide it, I could tell she'd been crying. Although I wanted to ask her what was wrong (although I was ninety-nine percent sure it was Brandon), I knew her pride wouldn't let her admit that she was scared of her own mate, especially with Rhys here.

But I should have taken her aside there and then, plied her with hot chocolate and demanded answers. It was the least I should have done.

Instead, I merely resolved to confront her about it in the morning and then rearrange Brandon's face if necessary, before drifting off to sleep. In my overconfidence and carelessness, I failed my sister in the worst way possible. And I don't think I will ever forgive myself for that.