A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Maria.

I was utterly exhausted by the time I finished all the chores assigned to me. My body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache, and every step felt heavier than the last. I found a quiet corner near the far end of the compound and slowly lowered myself to the ground, my back resting against the cool stone wall. For a moment, I just sat there, breathing deeply, trying to steady myself.

The air around me was thick with the scent of earth, sweat, and labor. Other rogues moved about, some carrying buckets, others scrubbing floors or rushing past with hurried steps, but I stayed where I was, too tired to move. I lifted the back of my hand and wiped a bead of sweat that had rolled down my temple, smearing dust across my skin without caring how it looked. Right now, all I wanted was a moment of stillness.

As I observed my surroundings quietly, my thoughts drifted. This place still felt unfamiliar, too big, too structured, too unforgiving. Everyone seemed to know where they belonged, what they were supposed to do, while I still felt like I was constantly trying to catch up, always one step behind. I wondered briefly if it would ever feel different.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

The voice startled me slightly. I hadn’t noticed anyone approaching, and the sudden sound pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up, instinctively tense, ready to apologize or stand if I was being reprimanded for resting.

Instead, I found myself staring into a pair of striking blue eyes.

He was standing a few steps away, looking down at me with an easy, open smile on his face. There was nothing sharp or judgmental in his gaze, no superiority, no hidden cruelty. Just warmth. Genuine warmth. It caught me off guard.

My eyes dropped to his chest without thinking, and that was when I noticed the small tag pinned to his clothes.

Rogue 454.

A rogue.

And judging by the number, he wasn’t much different from me. Still new. Still finding his footing. The realization eased something tight in my chest.

"Hmmm..." he rubbed the back of his neck lightly, looking almost shy now, a stark contrast to the confidence in his smile. "I really don’t mean to sound weird, but... I’ve been observing you since you came here."

My brows knit together slightly. Observing me?

Before I could react, he continued quickly, as if afraid I might misunderstand him. "You just...well, you keep to yourself. And you work really hard. I thought... maybe we could be friends."

Friends?

The word echoed in my mind, strange and unfamiliar in this place. My friend? Just like that? Was it really that simple? No hidden motive, no expectation, no danger lurking behind the offer?

I studied him more carefully this time. His clothes were worn, like mine. His hands bore faint marks of labor. There was an awkwardness to him, but also an earnestness that felt real. He wasn’t looking at me like I was something to use or control. He was just... asking.

"I’m Vincent," he said, extending his hand toward me. His smile widened, bright and unguarded, easily the warmest smile I had seen since arriving at Moon Bridge territory.

For a second, I hesitated. Old instincts told me to be careful, to keep my distance. Trust had never come easily to me. But something about Vincent felt harmless, almost comforting.

Slowly, I reached out and placed my hand in his.

"I’m Maria," I said softly.

Our hands met, and his grip was firm but gentle, not possessive, not demanding. I managed a small smile, one that surprised even me. It felt strange, smiling without forcing it, without fear immediately following.

"Nice to meet you, Maria," Vincent said, his eyes lighting up as if my simple response meant more than it should have.

For the first time since I arrived here, I felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest.

Not dread.

Not fear.

Just the faint, fragile possibility that maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to be completely alone in this place.My fingers lingered in Vincent’s grasp for half a second longer than necessary before I finally pulled away, surprised by how warm that simple contact felt.

"Maria," he repeated softly, like he was tasting the name. "It suits you."

I blinked, caught off guard. "My name?"

"Yes. It sounds... gentle. But there’s strength in it too," he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. "You have to be strong to survive Moon Bridge."

A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. "That’s one way to describe this place."

His face lit up instantly, like he’d just won something important. "See? You laughed. That means you’re not completely broken."

I raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"I mean..." he hurried to explain, hands moving wildly, almost knocking over the empty bucket beside him, "not broken-broken. Just... everyone here looks like the world has taken turns stepping on them. You looked like you needed someone to talk to."

The smile on my lips faded into something quieter as I studied him. Moon Bridge had a way of draining people, turning them dull, guarded, hollow. Yet Vincent’s blue eyes still held light. Untouched. Hopeful.

"That obvious?" I asked.

He shrugged. "You sit like someone waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. I thought I’d interrupt fate."

Another laugh escaped me, this one softer, freer. I barely recognized the sound. "You’re strange."

"Very," he said proudly. "Rogue 454. Certified oddball."

I glanced down at the tag on his chest again, then back up at his face. "You don’t seem scared."

"Oh, I am," he replied easily. "I just talk too much for fear to catch me."

That did it. I laughed—really laughed—and for the first time since arriving here, the tight knot in my chest loosened. The memories of last night, the fear, the humiliation... they all faded, if only for a moment.

"I haven’t laughed like that in a long time," I admitted, pressing my palm lightly to my chest.

Vincent’s expression softened. "Then I’ll count that as a win."

We sat there quietly for a while, watching other rogues pass by. Some whispered. Some looked too exhausted to care. Moon Bridge in all its cruelty and routine.

"So," he said eventually, nudging a pebble with his boot, "what were you before all this?"

The question tightened something deep inside me, pulling taut in a way that made it hard to breathe for a moment. The truth rose to the surface almost instantly, and just as quickly, I pushed it back down. It felt too heavy to voice, too sharp around the edges, like something that would cut us both if I tried to explain it. I swallowed, choosing my words carefully, even as my chest ached with everything I wasn’t saying.

"Someone... different," I said at last, my voice quieter than I intended.

He studied me for a brief second, then nodded, accepting the answer without pressing for more. There was no judgment in his expression, no impatience, only understanding. "Fair enough," he said easily. "I was a baker’s son once. Burnt more bread than I ever baked, but my mother used to say my hands were meant for better things."

Something about the way he said it, light, almost fond, made my chest warm. "And now?" I asked, genuinely curious, my eyes never leaving his face.

"And now I clean floors for Alphas who don’t know my name," he replied with a careless shrug, as though the words carried no weight at all. "Life’s funny like that."

Despite myself, a smile tugged at my lips. It slipped out before I could stop it, soft and unguarded. "You really are strange."

He laughed quietly, then corrected me almost at once, as if the distinction mattered. "Friend-strange," he said, a touch of hope flickering in his eyes. "I hope."

My smile lingered, warm and steady, settling into something real. "Yes," I said softly. "Friend-strange."

Footsteps approached before either of us could say more. I looked up to see an older rogue standing in front of us, breathing hard, his eyes darting around nervously.

"Rogue 456," he said. "You’re needed."

My body went rigid. "Needed where?"

He swallowed. "Alpha Davian is calling for you."

The world tilted.

"Alpha... Davian?" I whispered, my voice barely holding together.

Vincent stood up beside me, his earlier smile completely gone. "Davian? One of the Quadruplets?"

I nodded slowly, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Davian had never summoned me before. Not once. He barely acknowledged my existence.

My heart began to pound violently.

"Did he say why?" I asked the messenger.

He shook his head. "Just said to bring you immediately."

Vincent turned to me. "Do you want me to..."

"No," I cut in quickly, forcing myself to stand. "Thank you. For... making me laugh."

He smiled, small but sincere. "You are welcome Maria. You have survived till this time, you can survive any other thing. "

I wasn’t sure I believed him—but I nodded anyway.

As I followed the rogue away, shock still coursing through my veins, only one thought echoed relentlessly in my mind.

Why would Alpha Davian want to see me... now of all times?