The Wolf in Cell Six: Rogue Revolution のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

I expected to find myself in chains, or a cell at the very least, but this has been more like a vacation so far—luxury cars and comfortable accommodations. Such a stark contrast to how Amalea was held. Another undeserved perk of being at the top of the tower. Maybe I took a step up of my own merit, but I was never at the bottom, and the difference rank makes is a hard reality I’ve ignored for far too long. Even so, unjust as it is, I can’t say I’m wishing for a dungeon. I’m also learning that nothing moves quickly within the council. Sure, they were quick to bring me in, but it seems that was just for public appearances. Damage control for Alicia’s choice to make a mockery of her own brother’s funeral. Now they are content to just keep me waiting. Maybe that’s the torture—keeping me here with nothing to do when I have so much that I need to do. Bore me to death. I haven’t even had a chance to give my side of the story, not that I have any idea what story Alicia gave to refute it. I’m

An angel. She looks like an angel when she’s sleeping. I failed miserably in my attempt to stay away from her. That lasted all of three days before I found myself back in her room, and I was shocked to find she didn’t mind me there. She even asked me to stay.The ring should have cleared her mind. Let her resist the effects of the venom and see me for what I am, but still, here she is, sleeping against my chest, completely at peace. I don’t deserve this. She deserves her freedom. I’ve begun letting some of the she-wolves she’s befriended visit with her, but I don’t know how to offer her more than that.The pack thinks she’s being punished here. That she’s my pet. I can’t just wipe that all away like the men who lost their lives at her hands don’t matter to me. They don’t. Those men deserved to die for how they treated her, but their family members don’t need to know that. I could have a rebellion on my hands.She stirs in her sleep, running her hand across my chest, and I feel my dick

“I don’t have Stockholm’s syndrome,” I say with a laugh. “Darius isn’t what he seems. The terrible things he’s done, that he continues to do—I’m not making excuses for him—but I mean, he’s just as caught in the gears of the system as we are. Our culture made him what he is, and he doesn’t know how to be anything else.” Liza scoffs. “He’s an alpha. He can be anything he wants to be, and he decides what we are too. He’s not caught in the gears, Amalea, he’s pulling the levers.” “He wants to change things. He’s tried,” I argue. “Not very fucking hard from what I can see,” she counters. “I don’t know how you can stand to be near him after what he did to you, to all of us.” “I feel alive with him, free, like for the first time in my life I’m choosing my own fate, who I love, rather than being a slave to the mate bond.” Liza slumps against my shoulder and sighs. “Free? None of us are free.” “Does that include Darius?” I ask. She goes quiet, before pushing up off the bed and moving to leav

Here I am, back where I started. Is there where I belong? Did fate put me here, or did I? It’s funny. We spend our lives fighting to move up in life one step at a time. A better education, a better place in the pack, a better house, a better life—and for what?Staring at the stars through the tiny, barred window of the same cell I sat in years ago now on the eve of my execution, I can’t help but wonder if I ever had a chance. If I ever had a choice, or if my life has been a mere brushstroke in a masterpiece of existence meant for someone else. Has anything I’ve ever done made a difference? Will anyone remember my name? Darius might. James might. Both might not—might move on. Neither is willing to pay the cost, and our love will die as payment for their power.Will my children remember me? Did I give them what they need to make a difference in their existence? Is the masterpiece for them? I hope that it is. I hope that I did, and that hope is an ember warming my heart in this dark hour

I’ve had a lot of time to think—too much maybe. I wish that I had more time for so many things, but thinking isn’t one of them. The more I think about how I got here, about all the things that have been done to me, the angrier I get. Angry that I won’t get to do all the things I wanted in my life. That I won’t ever get to see my children again, to know if they’re alright, to see the people they’ll grow to be, to say goodbye. I’m angry that my own people put me here. That the leaders we chose to protect us built a system that uses us as fuel to create power for a few, for them. That I can’t do anything to change it, make it a better place for my children, for Liza, for everyone I love. That I’m letting them all down.“You didn’t eat your breakfast,” James muses beside me. I don’t need the mate bond to know he’s worried about me and that makes me even angrier. I hate him for putting his mark on me, for forcing fate on me, for being here right now instead of Darius.“I’m ready,” I repea