Chapter Six
Jay
See, this is why I don’t trust people. I don’t know why I thought Caleb would be any different. I should’ve known. They’re all privileged assholes. Spoiled and ungrateful who don’t care about anyone but themselves.
If he’s going to execute me anyway, why not let me keep the damn photo? Because he wanted to hurt me and strip me of everything. His intentions were malicious.
He said he would imprison, not execute, my wolf corrects me.
And you believe him? I snort.
He looked directly into my eyes, saw how important it was to me and destroyed it anyway. Without a second thought. It had been so easy for him to hurt me.
I’m so stupid.
To him, it probably looked like nothing. But to me, it was everything. The only thing I had.
And now it’s gone. Leaving me with nothing meaningful to my name.
Let the record show that, despite what people may think and the things I’ve done—which were terrible—I am not a violent person. I’m not perfect and might steal a book or two, borrow if I can swing a safe return. But I keep to myself and don’t bother anyone.
It is a grave error to mistake my quiet nature as weakness. I am not someone you want on your bad side.
Caleb made that error.
But I made the first when I assumed he might have mercy.
Never again.
I wake the next morning surprisingly refreshed, considering I slept in my captor’s arms, surrounded by a pack that I’m pretty sure wants to kill me.
I don’t know how I could sleep under these circumstances, but restful sleep is sporadic for me, so I can’t complain. At least I woke up.
My eyes try to flutter open, but the sun is too bright.
Nope, five more minutes. After several unsuccessful attempts to go back to sleep, I’m relieved of the sun’s torture. A shadow spares me the agony.
I’ve almost dozed off again until I hear a gruff voice.
“Get up.”
I peek through my sleepy eyes to see a frowning Caleb standing over me. How could someone so handsome be so grumpy all the time? I’d say it wasn’t a good look for him, but I’d be lying if his snarl wasn’t appealing. Unfortunately, his personality as of late makes him less attractive.
No it doesn’t, my wolf says.
You’re right, it doesn’t, I tell her.
Ignoring him, I roll over.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” he growls.
My arm is yanked up when Caleb pulls me to my feet.
“Hey!” I scramble to rise with him. “Forgive me if I’m not in a rush to be enslaved.”
“Like you have a choice. Seems you were right: No one is coming for you. Let’s go.” Caleb pulls me along with him and the others, making our venture through the woods a literal death march.
Wanting to die and being faced with the very real possibility of dying are two totally different things. I find myself observing my surroundings, trying to occupy my mind, but there’s nothing but trees.
Until I spot a cute little raccoon up in a plastic soda can liner. It’s wrapped around his neck, likely restricting his eating, drinking or breathing.
Instinctively, I move to help him.
“Hey! Get back in line!” Caleb says.
If he wanted a compliant prisoner, he shouldn’t have burned the only leverage he had. Someone who has nothing left to lose is far more dangerous than one with everything.
Oh, well. He fucked up.
He fucked up big time.
I make a beeline for the raccoon, ignoring Caleb. I untangle the little beast.
“Be free, little guy.”
He scurries away, and I’m left wishing I could follow him.
Great, now I’m jealous of a trash panda.
Caleb stomps over to me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Tyler chimes in. “Wasting our time saving the very pests that eat our crops. It’s no surprise that vermin seem to stick together.”
Vermin? Now I know he did not just call me that.
“Excuse me? Just because you don’t see their worth doesn’t mean they are worthless. They’re important to someone. Like how I think you’re a waste of oxygen, but I’m sure your mommy loves you,” I retort.
At my comment, Tyler takes one step forward, and Caleb holds a hand out to stop him.
“Hey, easy there.”
“Since when does a rogue care about the loved ones of others?” Tyler shouts at me over Caleb’s shoulder.
Tyler is as arrogant as they come. He assumes he knows everything.
Like the entire Bloodhound pack, he has a sheltered view of the world.
They may have the means to survive, but that is their privilege.
Take away their prominent shelters, supportive friends and family and they’d struggle like everyone else.
His absence of struggle doesn’t mean I’m not thriving through mine. Our success is unfairly compared. Mine is my own, as his is the work of many.
Tyler’s comment is just as common as his arrogance. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before. Pack wolves think rogues are careless, selfish and destructive. We’re all wolves yet somehow, they still think they’re better than me.
I don’t justify his ignorance with a response. He’s wrong about me. They all are. Let him think what they want. They don’t deserve to know me.
My eyes return to where the raccoon vanished. From my pocket, I pull a handful of yesterday’s berries, then leave some and pop a couple into my mouth.
Stay safe, little guy.
I grin thinking of the metal I grazed with my fingertips when I stuck my hand in my pocket.
They forgot to search my clothes.
***
I seem to have a knack for annoying Caleb.
So far, helping animals, humming tunes and not walking fast enough on our death march bother the crap out of him.
I try to make myself small—not because I care about how he feels, but because I want to avoid conflict.
They already want to kill me. I’ll settle for enslavement for now.
At least until the moment strikes, and I can attack.
Lost in my thoughts, I lose my footing, tripping over my own two feet. Caleb catches me inches from the ground. He holds me there, and my breath hitches as his gaze lingers.
“Walk much?” he snarks.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten much—”
I know exactly what he’s about to say.
He grinds his teeth together, clearly annoyed with me. “Did I not tell you to eat the pheasant?”
I couldn’t tell him that I couldn’t eat the pheasant because I’m a vegetarian. He wouldn’t care. If I told him, probably use that against me by only ever feeding me meat or worse, forcing me to.
I say nothing.
“Slow us down again, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way. Do I make myself clear?”
Reluctantly, I swallow my pride. “Loud and clear. Now are you going to let me up or are you going to keep looking into my eyes like a creep?”
Caleb’s lip twitches in a snarl. He yanks me upward.
I’ve barely gathered my footing when he shoves me forward from behind.
“Walk.”
After walking several more miles, we arrive in Bloodhound territory. I recognize it instantly, but it’s different from I last saw it.
It appears they’re rebuilding their agricultural infrastructure. Massive wood planks, tools and half-finished buildings are scattered around. Nearby, a patch of tree trunks have been cut to stumps to process the wood.
A few heads turn as I’m paraded through the village.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
Do they recognize me? Do they know I killed their alpha?
They didn’t kill us, my wolf says.
The Bloodhound pack members clearly don’t want me here. If they’re not glaring at me, they’re growling.
I remind myself that I was in wolf form when I was here. There’s no reason they would recognize . . . unless they memorized my scent—but only a crazy person would do that.
Wait a second.
I glance at Tyler. Hm . . . Then shake my head.
No, no. Crazy stupid is not the same kind of crazy I’m referring to.
Maybe I’m being paranoid. There were many of us that day and many casualties other than the one I’m responsible for.
So maybe they don’t know. If not, then what do they plan to do with me?
The deeper we get into the village, the more emboldened the pack members get.
“Dog.”
“Waste of life.”
“Murderer.”
I only turn my head when someone throws something. Just then, I’m pushed and told to keep walking before I can pinpoint who it was.
We’re clearly heading toward a large cabin in the center of the village, but I ask anyway. “Where are you taking me?”
The men ignore me.
My heart quickens. I’m not necessarily scared to die. Most days, I sometimes find my life to be meaningless anyway—but there are worse things than death. And I fear what’s in that building is going to be much worse.
“What’re you going to do to me?” I try my best to breathe.
“Stop talking,” one says.
My questions are answered when we enter the building. They lead me down a flight of stairs, into the basement. Light from sconces illuminate bloodstains on the floor and walls. I’m led through a straight hallway lined with jail cells, complete with steel bars.
Imprisonment.
Although underground, the prison appears to be no more than just a basement in an old house. It smells faintly of bleach as if they try to keep it clean. It’s not the worst dungeon I’ve been in. Not even close. But it triggers me all the same.
My body temperature rises as nausea sets in. My body trembles, and I collapse.
The men don’t care. They drag me into the worst punishment I could ever endure.
Again.
“No, please!”
Ignoring my pleas, they throw me into the dark cell.
It was still more spacious than I was used to but less lavish. A dirt floor and nothing more.
At least this time, I have a small window.
It’s hard to see out of it because it’s so high, but at least I’ll get some light.
I try to distract myself, so the panic doesn’t set in again, and my inner demons surface.
If that happens, I see red, and then it is lights out for whoever is considered a threat to my survival.
To please the devil within me, I must persuade myself I’m not dying. But I don’t know how much longer I can convince her everything’s fine.
“You have to let me out,” I plead.
Caleb grins.
He enjoys seeing me how he perceives me to be, an animal trapped in a cage.
That’s exactly how I feel. I’m getting desperate. Tears fall freely as I beg. I’d take torture over imprisonment any day.
“You can’t just leave me in here. Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me out.”
Caleb crosses his arms. He stands solid, still as stone with a disgusted look on his face.
He must hate rogues so much . . .
Unmoved by my tears, Caleb and his men walk away. Leaving me in the dark by myself.
“Wait! Come back!” I bang my palms against the bars. “Please. Don’t leave me here!”
The banging and my cries echo through the hall, drowning out their fading footsteps.
When the last man’s feet leave my view, I collapse to the cold, dirty floor. I gasp for air. My hands claw at my throat and chest, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.
I scan the room for a way out—a weak spot. I don’t see any.
The walls are closing in. I’m a dog trapped in a cage once more.
This can’t be happening to me again.