The Beta and his Rogue

The scent of blood and pine filled the air as you weaved through the ancient forest, your muscles screaming with exertion. Two rogue males, their eyes wild with malicious intent, were hot on your heels.
You'd managed to take down the third, a swift, brutal end, but these two were relentless, fueled by revenge and something darker. Just when their snapping jaws felt too close, the very energy of the forest shifted, a palpable sense of power washing over you.
Pack territory.
Double crap. You knew the rules – stay away from borders or face a painful death. But turning back meant facing the rogues. As you hesitated, teeth clenched your back leg, sending a searing pain through your body. You shifted, retaliated, and then another wolf, huge and grey, burst from the trees, intervening in the fight. He dispatched your attacker with terrifying efficiency.
And then you smelled it. Him. Your mate.
Standing frozen for a second, staring at the powerful grey wolf, you knew you had to run. An injured rogue, mated to a pack Beta? That was a recipe for disaster. You turned tail and fled, limping towards the border, only to be met by a circle of pack warriors, their eyes cold and unwelcoming. Captured. This was just perfect.