It was a full week following the rogue attack before Blake's brother, Asher, rolled up to the front of the pack house, the same cheeky smile on his face as always, and driving a flashy new car.

Waiting impatiently for him on the steps, Blake observed several of the unmated female pack members hovering nearby. A small group loitered around a pile of shopping bags gossiping. Two more, clearly mid-journey from the training grounds, had stopped to stretch out on one of the lawns, and a remarkably large amount of Omega's trailed back and forth, taking routes they'd never normally use from task to task.

They smiled and waved at Asher as he got out of the car. Women always seemed to find an excuse to be busy nearby when Asher visited any pack. Like magnets, they gravitated in his direction.

Their mother had been born a Delta; a rare wolf blessed with gifts from the Moon Goddess. Cora had been given the gift of charm and truth. Blake couldn't claim to know exactly how it worked, but after just a few minutes in her company, people would open up about the smallest details in their lives; often revealing even their deepest, darkest secrets, whether they had intended to or not. She also always seemed to know if they were telling her the truth just by looking into their eyes.

It was a gift that had come in particularly handy when raising her small boys, but she'd only passed it on to one of them, and Asher took full advantage. The man was never short of female companionship.

"Go on, admit it," his brother said by way of greeting as he hopped lightly up the steps towards his brother, waving his arm towards the gleaming silver car. "You're just a little bit jealous."

His dark eyes, that mirrored Blake's own, glimmered with amusement as Marcus whistled under his breath and wandered over for a better look.

"It's a very nice car, Ash," Blake humoured him, barely glancing at it.

"It's an Aston Martin Vantage!" Marcus exclaimed, running his hands appreciatively over the smooth bonnet. "This is more than just a nice car, Alpha. This is a thing of beauty."

Asher raised up his hands in mock despair at his brother's disinterest, and then threw Marcus a grin.

"At least, someone at the Blackridge pack has an eye for good taste! Want to take her for a spin?" he suggested, tossing the keys over, and Marcus raised his eyebrow at his Alpha questioningly, a look of sheer longing on his face.

Blake rolled his eyes. "Go on then. Take someone with you though. No one travels alone until further notice."

"On it!" Alex dashed down the steps from behind them and slid over the bonnet to get to the passenger seat. He let out a 'whoop' of joy, and a few seconds later the tyres screeched as they tore out of the driveway.

Asher winced. "In hind sight, not sure that was such a good idea," he murmured to himself.

Blake grinned and pulled his younger brother into a fierce hug - they hadn't seen each other face to face for nearly a year. Looking at the two brothers side by side, their relationship was obvious. In fact, the only noticeable difference between the two of them at first glance was their hair.

Unlike his brother, Asher had a stylish mane of silky, silver-blonde locks, taking after their mother. The similarities between them were extremely striking, leaving more than one unmated female gazing after them both dreamily.

"You need more sleep," he observed critically, looking at his brother's bloodshot eyes.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Asher quipped, leading the way into the house. "Where are they then?" he threw back over his shoulder. "I half expected a welcoming committee. Has Aunt Sarah driven you insane yet?" He headed straight for the kitchen, winking at one of the young females as he passed.

She blushed furiously and bowed her head in respect.

"She's trying," Blake admitted following him through. The kitchen was deserted, most of the live-in pack members at work or school.

"Oh, I bet she is." Asher chuckled, raiding the fridge.

Their mother's older sister, Sarah had lived in their father's pack all their lives helping to raise them. When Asher had taken over the Darkmoon pack three years ago, she had come with it as a sort of package deal, declaring that she preferred the company of her third nephew.

Blake knew for a fact that their father was quietly relieved to hand over the responsibility of her to one of his sons, and had organised her transfer with abnormal speed.

"So, has she found you a mate yet?" Asher asked from the inside of the fridge. "Or has our beloved sister played matchmaker? He pulled his head out and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Have I missed your dance with the devil's daughter?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "No, No and definitely not... Help yourself why don't you?"

Asher sat down at one of the tables, his arms loaded with ingredients, and proceeded to put together a sandwich. "Very kind of you, don't mind if I do. Do you want one?"

"No," he said sourly. He sat down opposite his brother and examined him critically. While Blake had begun training to take over Blackridge at sixteen, Asher had instead chosen to enrol himself into the murky world of the Supernatural Intelligence Agency.

Their father hadn't been happy – especially as it delayed Asher's own Alpha training by more than two years – but he was a quick learner and had, as it turned out, a gift for all things espionage.

Aunt Sarah, who had dabbled in that world herself when she was younger, had worked her magic, persuading Avery that having a son who could seek out almost any piece of information you needed was a good resource for the family. Predictably, he'd swiftly come around to their way of thinking when he realised how quickly Asher was rising through the ranks.

By the time Asher claimed his pack, just after his twentieth birthday, he was highly regarded within the agency. Nowadays, he took great delight in encouraging wolves with a wide range of talents to emigrate to his pack and, if you wanted to find someone, learn about something or do anything remotely sneaky, Darkmoon was your first stop.

It was an exciting life, but a busy one, especially once pack responsibilities were added to the mix. Blake honestly didn't know how he managed it all.

Despite his relaxed attitude to life however, Asher took his role in the family extremely seriously. He'd volunteered to look into the recent rogue attacks that had been increasing up and down the eastern borders. The smaller packs were really starting to have some trouble.

"Seriously Ash, when was the last time you slept?"

"What day is it?" Asher asked around a mouthful of chicken sandwich.

"Tuesday."

"Saturday then... I think. I've lost track." He shrugged. "To be fair, I've been a little busy putting out wildfires over the last month." He took a swig of orange juice. "Father says hello by the way."

"Hmph." Blake knew his father's 'hello' was a pointed and silent reminder that he was still there. Still waiting for Blake's decision.

He'll be waiting a while, Rothan snorted.

"Is it that bad?" Blake asked, ignoring him.

Asher shrugged. "There's more than the usual rogue attacks happening, that's for sure. Biggest problem is the alliances. Packs are getting antsy with each other, as they do every now and then... a few internal scuffles as well - not something I'd normally pay attention to." He paused thoughtfully, "But these smell off."

'Outside influence?"

"Maybe. Father's going to speak to the Elders, see if they can put a stop to it. He wants a full report when I see him again so, you know. Be thorough."

'You're dropping in on your way back?"

Ash nodded. "Probably. He's not –"

A young woman dashed into the kitchen and threw herself into his arms with a shriek, her small frame engulfing him completely.

"Asher!" Their sister smothered him in an endless shower of kisses, and shot Blake an irritated look. "Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

"Because he only walked through the door about five minutes ago, Sky. We've been busy."

She huffed at him, dismissing his explanation with a flick of her hair.

Rothan chuckled in his head.

"Did he tell you about the rogue attack?" she asked excitedly, talking at a hundred-miles-an-hour, "It was so scary, we were out there all alone and there were hundreds of them, but Marcus was so brave and he fought off the one that came after us and –"

Asher chuckled, listening to her in indulgent amusement. He munched slowly on his sandwich with one arm wrapped around her tiny waist. “Hundreds?” he asked Blake silently.

" – he got me back here to safety but we were almost killed!”

“Twenty,” his brother corrected, “Not counting any that got away.”

“And Blake found a girl in the middle of the woods and brought her home, which Aunt Sarah said was terribly foolish of him because she could kill us all in our sleep and –”

“Some got away? Brother, you're slipping.”

"– she doesn't remember anything, which Aunt Sarah says is highly unlikely and she must be faking it... Oh! and she smells funny." Sky took a deep breath and kissed Asher on his cheek. "When did you last sleep?" she finished breathlessly.

"Hello Sky," her older brother greeted her with a smile. "Were you planning on breathing anytime soon?"

She pouted. "Oh hush, I've just missed you so much! I never get to see any of you anymore."

“You saw me at the Summer Solstice,” Asher pointed out.

“That was over two months ago, Ash!”

Sky would officially be a member of their father's pack until she was safely mated. But, with all but one of her brothers off running their own packs, and spread out over four hundred miles of territory, Blake knew she often felt like she'd been left behind. Which is why Blake had made no objections to her travelling here with Sarah for a while - though she'd have to return home after the Winter Solstice.

"Are you staying?" she asked Asher hopefully.

Ash smiled sadly. "No, I'm afraid not. I have to leave again in the morning."

Her face dropped with disappointment a moment, then brightened again as she realised something. "Will you stay for dinner though? I've been learning how to cook! I could make mac and cheese? I know it's your favourite."

"How could I refuse?" Asher agreed glancing at his brother. "Let me finish what I came here to do and I'll be right over."

Sky squealed in delight before giving both of them a hug and rushing off to find both Sarah and someone who'd be willing to go fetch ingredients with her from the village.

Asher watched her skip away. "Goddess, she's still a whirlwind, isn't she?"

"You better believe it," Blake chuckled. "She's absolutely determined to find me a Luna. You wait until you meet her latest candidate. She's in a league of her own."

Asher perked up with interest. "Maybe I could help you out... take her off your hands for the evening?"

Blake laughed. "Thanks for the suggestion little brother, but I think Victoria might be more than even you can handle!"

If possible, Asher just looked more interested. “I like a challenge.”

"By the way –" Blake advised. "You might want to make yourself another one of those sandwiches. Our sister may be many things but a good cook she is not. She tends to burn more than she bakes."

"Ah," said Asher, looking hungrily at the remaining food on the table and reaching for the butter. "So, where would you like to start your explanation?"

Blake looked confused and Asher grinned. "The Rouge attack that apparently nearly killed our sister?" A pause. "Or the mystery girl you forgot to mention over the phone?"

Blake flushed red. "I didn't forget to mention –"

"The girl it is then." His brother smiled wickedly.

***

By the time Blake joined them in the cells later that evening, Asher and Marcus had rather carefully examined the broken body of the only Rogue not to be burned the previous day, and had shifted their attention to his sparse belongings.

He had somehow survived the initial attack, and the warriors had dragged him down to the dungeons for questioning where he'd died later that night. After talking everything through, Asher had suggested they take a closer look at the body.

"Have you found anything out yet?" he asked as he entered the room.

"Well, we know that he used to be an established pack member before he became rogue,” Marcus remarked. “And he's not been rogue long either, not feral enough. About thirtyish, not a warrior, despite the clothes he was found in - at least, he didn't train very hard - weak muscles."

"That's not much to go on," Blake said with a sigh.

"It's a start," Asher told him, carefully examining a thin blade the rogue had been carrying.

"Do you think he was kicked out of his old pack?" Blake mused, staring straight down at the man's weathered face.

"Not necessarily," Asher replied, turning the blade over and peering at the hilt. "He could have been recruited."

"What?" Blake exclaimed, shocked.

"One of the most persistent rumours I came across on my travels is that certain, low-ranking wolves – usually those with a taste for trouble and little to lose – were suddenly leaving their packs for no understandable reason." He glanced up at his brother and they shared a look of concern.

While it wasn't unusual for wolves to leave their pack for another, they always had somewhere to go before severing ties with their Alpha. A voluntary rogue was unthinkable.

"Rumour has it that someone is going around telling them they could have a better life as a rogue,” Asher continued. “That everything they think they know is wrong, and the Alpha's have been lying to them. Of course, that kind of thinking might be a little too subtle for rogues... but after the third pack hearing about it... you really have to start paying attention." He frowned. "Where have I seen this mark before?" he muttered, still looking at the dead man's knife.

"If the rogues are recruiting, we're in more trouble than I first thought," Marcus observed, looking thoughtfully over at the corpse. "I'll take a photo and start emailing it around some of the packs, see if anyone recognises him. One more thing we found on him –" He reached over for his camera and showed Blake a photograph on the screen. It was a tattoo.

"It was on his right shoulder, looks like it got infected at some point. Funny thing is, it's not the first one we've found. Every rogue we’ve checked over in recent weeks has one – almost always on the shoulder, but I've seen them on the thigh, forearm... even one on a neck."

Blake looked at it carefully. It was hand-drawn and crudely inked on, but clearly three claw marks running parallel to each other on a curve and tipped with red ink. I've seen this before..." he murmured.

A rogue from nearly six months ago that crossed over the border almost straight into the eager arms of a passing patrol. He'd been dirty and unkempt - as most rogues are - and his eyes had held such a look of desperation that Blake had wondered later whether he'd crossed over deliberately. Though fully aware of the consequences - he'd not even tried to fight back. He remembered seeing a homemade tattoo on his chest before they'd burned him.

"So have I," his brother confirmed. "I've seen three more corpses just like this one in the last few weeks in three separate territories, and they all had that tattoo on them. I think –” He suddenly froze, a look of intense concentration on his face. That's it! That's where I've seen this mark before!" And he dashed out of the room carrying the weapon without any further explanation.

Marcus stared after him. “Should we follow him, or...?”

They found him outside the pack house, rummaging around in the boot of his car. "I know it's in here somewhere..." his muffled voice drifted up to them.

As they waited patiently Blake looked towards the pack house, wondering whether he would have time to visit Hannah before dinner. She'd thawed somewhat since their last encounter, but he still wasn't convinced she'd forgiven him for the needle incident.

His wolf rolled his eyes. Concentrate on the rogues, the girl can wait.

Oh, shut up, he countered. You want to see her too. I can feel it.

"Here it is!" Asher proclaimed triumphantly, brandishing a scrap of cloth in one hand. "Look at this." He thrust the pocket of a flannel shirt in Blake's hand. Torn around the edges as though it had been ripped off the item of clothing.

Stitched carefully into the cloth was the same symbol as the one etched into the knife Asher had found on the rogue. A paw print made up of thin swirling lines that created individual patterns on each part of the design. They were identical.

"What am I looking at?"

Asher sighed. "The knife was taken from the rogue on your territory yesterday. This cloth was cut from the body of a rogue caught on Greywater territory over four days travel South of here. They're identical." he explained unnecessarily.

“I can see that, but what is it?”

"This is an identity symbol, a mark like the tattoos we've been seeing. This rogue, and the one South of here were working for the same person. Our rogue had both symbols on him. This proves we're dealing with one huge problem rather than lots of little ones."

"How?" Marcus frowned comparing the two items carefully. "If our rogue was wearing one symbol and carrying another at the same time, doesn't that mean he was working for more than one person? And why aren't both symbols tattoos?"

Asher tugged at his ear and began pacing back and forth across the gravel driveway. "The leader handing out the tattoos is brazen. He brands his followers as a sign of their absolute loyalty. He wants everyone to know who is in charge and he's created a sort of cult to do so."

"It doesn't exactly scream high levels of intelligence, does it?" Blake observed. "Anyone who gets caught is going to be traced right back to him."

"You're right. He either doesn't think things through very well... or he's not bothered about being caught. A man like that isn't going to want his wolves following anyone else so, why would one of his rogues be carrying another wolf’s symbol?" Asher stood, staring off into the distance, his eyes miles away.

Blake watched him silently; the camera with the crude tattoo in one hand, the cloth and knife in the other.

"This leader is more subtle. He isn't marking his followers; he's giving them gifts instead. He's staying in the background ready to melt away if we get too close to him... and he's happy for our other guy to take all the credit." He turned back to them, scowling. "It's an alliance," he concluded grimly. “It's the only explanation that fits. They're working together to cause as much trouble as possible.”