The Wolf in Cell Six: Rogue Revolution のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

I jerk awake as the van suddenly stops, and I hear movement around us. The doors open, letting the dusky light of evening filter in. We’d driven all day. I’m happy to see Chad nowhere in sight as a tall, sandy-haired man unlocks our chains and leads us towards an open grassy area where the men are setting up tents. Too many of us for a hotel, I gather. I scan my surroundings to form the beginnings of a plan. I’d gained little insight on the trip here so far beyond there would be few stops, and I had to get us all out of here. Plus, the further we get from home, the harder it will be to make our way back to the cave. The area is unfamiliar. It looks like a campground of sorts, maybe, but not a heavily used one. The road in is little more than a trail, and there are no established fire pits. It may be private land. Another stop on the way to the front, like my home was. The trees are different, but some of the herbs and plants I recognize. One, in particular, catches my eye. Luck of t

I took a 45-minute shower, and I can still smell her on me. I throw the shirt she gave me and my ripped pants in the trash and start to pack up my things to head back to Dark Wood. Not that I brought much. Most of it was for the kids: coloring books, road snacks, and some stupid handheld gaming systems. What the fuck was I thinking? I’d just take a leisurely drive down to Green River, pick up my mate’s kids who I’ve never met, and have some new daddy bonding on the drive home? They’re hiding, running for their lives. Even if I could find them, why would they trust me? I’m an idiot. I head down the stairs with my things just as Anthony comes through the front door. “James, leaving already? I thought you were looking for some missing kids?” “They aren’t here. Bad intel,” I say, trying to keep my head down. Can he smell her on me too? “At least join us for dinner and training later. My warriors could use the challenge. I bet you could teach them a thing or two.” He hangs up his jacket

The warrior is gone when I wake up, but the camp is still quiet. I should have asked his name. I have a feeling I’ll need all the allies I can get. I’m left alone to my thoughts for some time, listening to the camp slowly coming to life. My morning goes much like yesterday—chained in a dark room, breakfast clean-up, scraps for me, and it’s back to the dark van. The day is warm, and the bodies are starting to smell. I wonder if I’m the only one that notices when Liza finally breaks the silence, “They stink.” I guess that answers that question. I hear her kick her foot at the tarp. “Don’t be disrespectful,” Mary chimes. Liza mimics her in a mocking tone. I feel like I should apologize to them again, but would it matter? Would they just go quiet again? “Do you know who the warrior is with the hazel eyes? He’s younger, about your age? Dark shoulder-length hair?” I ask instead. “That’s Adam,” Liza answers. “You got him on your first night? Lucky. He’s a gentleman.” There’s a hint of jeal

I was right about lunch. It feels like an eternity before I finally hear my cell being opened again. Part of me is terrified it will be another wolf I may not be able to dissuade from taking what they came for, but then it’s a break in the boredom. If one of these men doesn’t kill me, the boredom might. It’s only been a day and I’ve done absolutely everything I can think of to stay busy. I pace. Sit. Think. Pace some more.I’m delighted to see Liza’s smile as the door creaks open. She slips in handing me a bowl of what I think is porridge. “Sorry, they don’t allow forks or spoons anymore, so you’ll have to drink it,” she says shifting on her feet uncomfortably. After glancing nervously at the door, she reaches in her dress and hands me a bit of jerky. “I swiped this for you. I know nothing but bread and porridge gets old fast.”“Did they put you here once?” I ask setting the bowl on the ground and eating the jerky as quickly as I can. Not only do I not want her to get in trouble, but

I’ve never thought of myself as a victim. Sure, I have my share of tragedy and trauma—as a low-rank orphan to say I haven’t led a charmed life is a vast understatement—but I learned at a young age that you always have a choice.Maybe not in what happens to you, but in whether you let it handle you, or you handle it. Take from it what you can and move on. That’s always been my coping strategy, but what if there’s nothing to take? No lesson to be learned?I still feel him inside me. He was only there for a moment. Just a moment before I killed him. I killed him, and I can still feel him. What can I learn from this? What can I take from this, that he didn’t take from me? Why did I let him take it? You always have a choice. I play each moment, each move, each breath over in my head. I was someone else when it was happening, somewhere else, but I’m here now. I feel it now, and I don’t want to. Handle it, or it’ll handle you.The whip snaps against my back, tearing loose more skin. I try