// prologue //

                                    

                                          
	The warm newleaf breeze carried with it the scent of blood.
                          
	Her breath rushed in and out of her quickly as she raced over the hard cement streets, the light streaming out from Twoleg den windows catching her one moment, then letting her slip into the darkness once more. As she neared her destination, the light caught the gleam of her fangs and claws.
                          
	Still, the smell of blood grew and her heart beat faster and faster. Her reason for being away from her home - from her kits - lay forgotten in an alley somewhere.
                          
	"Kits!" she cried, the makeshift den appearing in her line of sight. "Kits!"
                          
	When no reply came she ran faster than she'd ever run before.
                          
	She burst into the den, struggling to keep herself from tearing at the empty nests within in a desperate attempt to find her offspring. Her breaths, shallow, rushed in and out of her throat painfully.
                          
	"Mama?" The tiny voice came from her right. She whipped around, and three sets of still kitten blue eyes met hers.
                          
	"Kits," she said, frozen in place. Another three pairs of narrowed eyes landed on her, tails wrapping more tightly around her kits. She surveyed them quickly but did not see blood anywhere, though the smell of blood still hung heavy in the air. The smallest kit, a black tom, squeaked in protest at his captor.
                          
	"Please don't hurt them," she pleaded.
                          
	A grin spread across the face of the cat in the centre, not quite cruel but not warm either. "A queen who chose to leave her kits all alone. I wonder what you would do if you found them gone. Or worse..."
                          
	A brief image of her kits, bodies limp and bloodied, crossed the she-cat's mind but she did not dwell on it long.
                          
	"Was I supposed to let them starve instead?" she snarled.
                          
	The two cats on either side of the leader tensed. The leader's grin, however, grew wider, showing pointed, bloodied fangs.
                          
	"It's a dangerous world out there. You're lucky we were passing through. If we weren't..."
                          
	The queen followed the tom's eyes to the darkest corner of the den and started back when she saw what lay there.
                          
	The overwhelming scent of blood suddenly made sense. The cat's stomach had been torn open, its pelt so bloodied she could hardly tell the colour. Dull green eyes remained open, staring up as if in surprise.
                          
	"I won't presume to tell you how to raise your kits," the tom continued. "But I will tell you that living on your own with them will only make things harder for you. Wouldn't it be nice to have others watching out for them as well?"
                          
	The look in his hazel eyes was disinterested, as if he truly did not care whether she took him up on his offer or not but, somewhere deep down, she saw the light she'd often seen in the eyes of her late mate: that this was not a suggestion, but a command.
                          
	"I've been on my own since before they were born," she said. "There's no one I could ask for help."
                          
	A flash of annoyance lighted in the tom; he knew she was playing dumb.
                          
	"We're looking to build a family here," he said, voice clipped. "A group of sorts, a gang you could even say." She stiffened as she remembered her old family, the one that had been taken from her.
                          
	"Maybe you could even call it a Clan," he added and her rage grew.
                          
	"Never a Clan," she hissed. "Clan cats are the reason why my mate is dead." In her memories she saw them, clear as day: the arrogant black one and her pale cream and blue littermate.
                          
	The grey tom cocked his head. "They weren't true Clan cats. They were already on the path of destruction, the path that led them to betray their Clan."
                          
	His tail unwrapped itself from around the kit before him and the other two cats followed his lead. The three kits scrambled to their mother, looking back fearfully at the three intruders.
                          
	"What do you want from me?" she asked, unsheathing her claws. If she had to die to defend her kits, she would.
                          
	"Just your assistance in building a life here," he said. "We're not here to hurt you."
                          
	"Then what are you here for?" She was stalling, and they all knew it, but she had no escape route.
                          
	"To help you," he replied, voice dripping sweetness. "And your three wonderful kits."
                          
	The queen lowered herself, shielding her kits from his view, but the eldest had stepped out of her protection. The silver she-kit, a spitting image of her mother, stared at the intruder, sharp kitten claws out.
                          
	"She's a fighter," the black she-cat commented from the leader's right. 
                          
	"The other two could be trained too," the black and white tom on the other side added.
                          
	"And why do you need fighters?" she challenged.
                          
	As they paused, the queen looked between the three of them, weighing her options. She could not win a fight; she could not run; she did not have anywhere to go for help. They looked like seasoned fighters, judging from the many scars their pelts failed to hide.
                          
	"For revenge," the grey leader finally said.
                          
	She stared straight at him and her own jaw slowly curled into a grin. "Now, that is something I can understand."
                          
	Triumph lit his face as she rose to her paws.
                          
	"Neither I, nor my kits, are to be harmed," she said, voice crystal clear.
                          
	The grey tom nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it."
                          
	"Good, because I'll kill you if the thought so much as crosses your mind," she said. If they wanted fighters, she would give them a fighter. Her words did not register as fear on their faces, but rather showed respect. It had been a while since she'd felt this powerful.
                          
	"Now follow me. I know a place where we can begin to build our new family."
                          
// I'm incredibly excited to start the third and final book in this series/trilogy! I decided to release it today, as I've finally reached 1k followers (thank you Wattpad community).
                          
If there's anything you're hoping to see in this instalment please let me know. I do have my own plans, but I'm sure I can always work a little magic if there's a character you want to see more of!