Lock, Stock, and Barrel will be the first book in The Rogue's Den series. This book will be pre-written so there's no official publishing date as of yet, but I thought I'd give you all a brief glance at the first couple of this series: Rafe and Sloan. I know a lot of people probably expected Laken and Ambrose to be first, but this series will all tie into one big plot which means that they will be second in the series.

Disclaimer: I'll mention this again when the book actually drops, but some of these characters are going to start out rough in this series, especially those in power. They won't be sunshine and rainbow and their relationships won't be easy. There will be a lot of character arcs and development throughout these books and some of them may frustrate you at times.

Rafe, being an alpha of the den, is mainly focused on maintaining his position. There will be times in this book where he views Sloan and other characters as an afterthought or a weakness, but character development will slap both him and Sloan in the face.

Synopsis:

Despite being mates, Rafe and Sloan were not in love. With an overabundance of shared history and three relationship attempts that have gone up in flames, an actual mate bond wasn't in their cards. The closest they would ever be were acquaintances with benefits.

Rafe, being one of the four alphas of The Rogue's Den, a small strip of land where the corrupt and misfortunate inhabited, didn't have time for an actual relationship. Maintaining his territory was his primary goal--or it was until a failed hunter attack against Sloan brought the two men together and forced them to reconsider for the first time in a year and a half that their mate bond may be worth giving another chance.

Chapter One:

Rafe

Love and lust were two very different things. Love was complicated, messy, and full of vulnerability—it left all your weaknesses on display and open for attack which was something I couldn't afford. Lust, on the other hand, was simple—an easy exchange of desires that required no commitments and left no strings attached.

"Give me my shirt," Sloan demanded as he stood from the makeshift pallet we had set up and zipped his pants.

I leaned back on my elbows, watching the way his muscles shifted under his skin, every movement precise and controlled. The moonlight slashed across his torso, casting shadows that made it impossible to look away. I should've handed him the shirt. Should've let this moment pass like all the others.

Instead, I hooked my arm around it and pulled it further out of his reach.

Love wasn't an emotion I was familiar with, but lust? I knew lust well.

Sloan gave me that look—half annoyed, half expectant—like he knew I was just trying to push his buttons. "Seriously, Rafe?"

"Why are you leaving in such a hurry? Usually, you're still asleep at this time."

It was just past midnight which might have seemed late to some, but here, the day was only just beginning. The Rogue's Den was like that—no real time, no real order. It was a place where the sun and moon meant nothing, where the rules of the outside world didn't apply. Some called it a slum, others a prison. To me, it was both—a slice of land where people, no matter the life they once had or the choices they made, lived side by side, clawing for whatever scraps they could get. There were no heroes in the Den, no one looking to save anyone but themselves.

Territory meant everything here. Power wasn't just about strength—it was about control. Control over who lived, who bled, and who got to see the next day. Love had no place in the den.

Midnight was when things really got moving. Deals made under the cover of darkness, fights that broke out over grudges nobody could remember, and bodies that disappeared only to be found at dawn. It was when the shadows were thickest when you had to be at your sharpest.

Sloan knew that. He thrived in it, just like I did. But that didn't mean he was safe from the Den, from its ever-looming threat. Just because you knew how to navigate it didn't mean you couldn't get swallowed by it.

"Got things to do," Sloan deadpanned, his grey eyes briefly meeting my hazel as he moved to snatch the shirt out of my grip. I let him take it, watching as he shrugged it over his shoulders.

"Since when?" I pressed. "You and I both know nothing happens in this place that late that can't wait till dawn."

"Since when do you care?"

"I don't," I admitted. "Call it curiosity at most. Though, we both know I'll find out eventually even if it doesn't come from you."

Sloan rolled his eyes, but he knew I was being serious. The den was divided into four different sections and though no one individual had complete control, four alphas sat at the top of the dog-eat-dog food chain and I was one of them. The territory we were in, commonly known as the western side, was mine. It was also the second largest section of the den which meant there was little knowledge that didn't eventually reach my ears.

"Then you'll just have to wait until it reaches you. Keep asking questions and I might mistake that as interest." Sloan hummed.

I rolled my eyes. "Interest is the last thing you'll get from me. You remember how that went."

Three failed attempts at turning our casual fling into something more confirmed what Sloan and I already knew from the start: we weren't compatible with each other beyond a quick hookup every now and again. Sure, we might've shared a mate bond, but the Goddess had to have made a mistake because there was no way Sloan and I could work together in an actual relationship. We clashed too much. We were both too dominant and too stubborn. Everytime time we tried always ended with angry words followed by inevitable hate sex.

After our last attempt a year and a half ago which went to shit after only two weeks, the both of us agreed it was better to keep what we had casual and that worked for us.

So, while I was fond of Sloan's occasional companionship, I didn't love the blond-haired man in the slightest. Was he hot? Undoubtedly. A good fuck? Yes, but that's where the line was drawn.

"Then mind your business," Sloan told me as he tied his last shoe and ran his fingers through his hair a few times to rid some of the knots from our previous activities. "I'll see you at some point."

"Next Tuesday." I threw out a date, causing him to nod slightly before slipping out of the small house built from the surrounding trees.

I waited a minute until Sloan's thyme-like scent dulled, letting me know he was gone, and dropped back on the bed to sleep.

At least, that was the goal until my door was roughly thrown open, and an irritatingly familiar scent that reminded me of morning rain filled the house.

Cassien.

"Get up," Cassien demanded, foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

"Tell me why and I might consider it," I informed the other alpha.

We might've been friends, but he wasn't going to order me around in my own territory.

"We have a meeting."

"Since when?" I frowned. I knew all the dates of our meetings by heart, so there was no way I'd forgotten.

"Since the possibility of the council attacking increased."

My frown deepened. The possibility of an attack on the den wasn't unusual in the slightest. The werewolf council—which was essentially old, cranky werewolves on their deathbeds trying and failing to regulate our species—constantly had their eyes on the den, especially in recent years with the influx of rogues joining. Then there was the equally known threat of werewolf hunters who'd occasionally stumble close to the den we had to worry about.

As heads of the den, we had routine meetings where we discussed any new developments and ways to counter both the hunters and the council. These meetings were always planned ahead of time, so for one to be called last minute meant there was a problem.

I quickly got dressed and followed Cassien out of my house, allowing the night to fall over me. A few fires were burning, but they did little to help. The den was flanked on all sides by towering trees that effectively blocked out most light even during the day, so most of us were adapted to the dimness of our surroundings.

The cool night air wrapped around me, bringing with it the scents and sounds of the Rogue's Den. The familiar cacophony hit my ears—the distant shouts of traders haggling over goods, the cracks of bones breaking from nearby fights, and the low murmur of conversations laden with secrets. Each sound echoed through the narrow paths carved between makeshift homes.

Cassien moved beside me with his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned over my section of the den with a subtle hint of disapproval in his gaze. "You let them run rampant."

I shrugged. "I don't care what they do in their free time. As long as they listen to my orders when I need them to then we have no problem."

Cassien shook his head, reminding me of how we differed. He was the only alpha with territory larger than mine and he ruled his section with an iron fist. Each wolf knew if they wanted to stay in Cassien's zone, they were expected to contribute in some way and if they couldn't then they would be discarded like yesterday's trash.

Those who lived under me knew that if they were needed then they were expected to fall in line, but otherwise, they were free to do as they pleased as long as it didn't infringe upon me or the other sections of the den.

At the center of all the zones was a small neutral area. It was mostly blocked off since meetings typically were held there, but you'd occasionally find kids playing around that area.

Today there were no children. In their place was each alpha and one of their trusted allies.

"I'm glad you could finally join us," Priya said to the both of us, sarcastically.

I shot the beta a glance. "Watch yourself."

She was unaffected by my words. After two years of ruling as beta and one year under Otto, the alpha of the eastern territory's rule, she'd basically become the organizer of these meetings and had grown used to dealing with the group of us.

Cassien and I took our seats beside each other and across from Laken and Otto, the other two alphas of the den. Otto was the "newest" alpha, having earned the role a year ago when the previous eastern alpha, Diana, decided it was time for her to leave the den. He was the complete opposite of his predecessor—forgetful and always had his head in the clouds. It was a mystery to me how he'd managed to become an alpha in the first place.

Laken, on the other hand, had arrived around the same time as Sloan four years ago. He was the youngest of us at twenty-two. Otto and Cassien were both twenty-eight while I was in the middle of both groups at twenty-four. Despite the age gap, Laken proved to be pretty good at keeping a handle on his section of the den despite his occasional disappearance that drove Cassien mad.

"Let's get started, shall we? The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we can all leave," Otto said and for once, I agreed with him.

Priya nodded. "I'll be blunt. Council members have been spotted scouting out the area."

"That's normal, is it not?" Laken questioned.

"It would be, but they've never gotten this close or shown up this many times in such a short period. It's like they're examining the territory to attack."

"The southern border has been fine. There haven't been any hunter or council sightings recently," Cassien told us.

"It makes sense that they would look at the east first though. It's the smallest zone, so it's more vulnerable to attacks," I pointed out.

"We all know the eastern territory has been the soft spot for the council," Priya added, her expression serious. "Otto's got to be ready for anything. If they think they can pick us off one by one, they'll come in swinging."

There was a collective murmur of agreement from the group and Priya continued, switching the topic to ways to counter the potential attack. I tried to pay attention, but it was difficult to do so when the sudden feeling that something was wrong fell over me. My wolf seemed to grow anxious, trying to get me to leave the meeting, causing me to frown.

"Rafe?" I heard Priya call out, but my attention was no longer on her.

What was wrong?

"Rafe?"

A sharp pain exploded in my side and I winced before lifting my shirt to see if there was any wound I managed to overlook, but my tan skin was spotless which meant the pain hadn't been my own. It was Sloan's.

Something was seriously wrong.

"I have to go," I announced.

If something was actually wrong with Sloan then I couldn't afford to be sitting around. Even if our bond meant nothing to us, it was still present and his pain, or death, would weaken my wolf and I couldn't have that happening.

"What's wrong—" Cassien started to ask, but his words were silenced by the brutal sound of a gunshot echoing through the air, coming from my section.

"Hunters," Otto pointed out the obvious and dread formed in my chest.

Fuck me.