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Accueil / Werewolf / Her Pack of Possibilities / Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 7

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7

Chapter 1

Rebel’s POVI used to count the cracks in the floorboards when things got bad.Three long ones under the bed. A crooked one by the door. A tiny spiderweb crack in the window that I’d stare at until my vision blurred. Anything to keep my mind off the footsteps outside my room. Anything to drown out the sound of my mother’s voice sharpening itself like a blade.“Sit up straight. Boys don’t cry.”I was six the first time she said it. Eight when she hit me hard enough to split my lip because my hair had grown too long and she said I looked “wrong.” Ten by the time I learned how to go still, silent, empty so she’d get bored and leave.My father was worse in the way that mattered. He didn’t yell. Didn’t touch me unless he wanted to drag me somewhere. He just watched and observed like he was waiting for me to slip, to shift, to reveal the wolf he insisted wasn’t supposed to exist.I hadn’t shifted yet I was still just a kid, but they treated me like a monster anyway.That night, the night, I

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-10

Chapter 2

Rebel’s POVThe problem with nights in the clubhouse is that they don’t really end.The music stops, the laughter fades, the bikers wander off to bed or to someone else’s—but the energy lingers like heat after a storm. It hums through the walls, through the floors, through my bones.And tonight, something feels wrong.I’m curled on my bed reading a dog eared book, the one Fang always pretends he doesn’t know I stole from his room years ago. The air is thick with the scent of oil and steel from the garage below, comforting in the way only home can be.But underneath it, something prickles my skin, something familiar and sour.I set my book aside as voices echo down the hallway too sharp and tense.Then,“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CLUBHOUSE!”Fang’s roar shakes the walls, vibrating all the way down to the soles of my feet.My chest feel tight because I know that tone, know exactly what or who could pull it out of him.I’m halfway to the door when a second voice answers smooth and controlle

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-10

Chapter 3

Ruin’s POV I feel it before the phone rings.That slow, crawling unease under my skin. The wolf pacing. Nails dragging along the inside of my ribs like it’s testing the cage. I’m sitting in my office above the Rogue Legion garage, boots kicked up on the desk, paperwork ignored, staring at nothing.Something is wrong.The phone vibrates and I don’t even look at the name before answering.“Fang.”Silence stretches for half a second too long on the other end. I hear breathing it’s heavy, controlled, barely leashed.“Ruin,” Fang says finally. “You got a minute?”I swing my boots down and stand. “For you? Always.”Another pause, longer this time.“They showed up,” he says.My wolf snaps to attention.“Who.”“Her parents.”The word parents sounds like an insult coming out of his mouth.I close my eyes and exhale slowly through my nose. “At the clubhouse?”“Yes.”“Did they touch her?”“No,” Fang growls. “They didn’t even see her, I made damn sure of that.”Good, because if they had I’d alre

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-14

Chapter 4

Rebel’s POV The clubhouse feels different tonight.It’s subtle at first something you’d miss if you weren’t raised inside these walls. The air is heavier, like a storm pressing down before the first crack of thunder. The familiar sounds, the clink of bottles, the low hum of engines being tuned, the murmured laughter are all still there, but they’re muted. Controlled and waiting.I move through the main room slowly, fingers brushing over scarred wood and worn leather, grounding myself in a place that has always been home. The bar smells like whiskey and citrus cleaner. Oil and metal cling to everything, soaked so deeply into the walls it’ll never come out. Patches and colors line the walls, years of loyalty stitched into fabric.Men and women I trust with my life sit too straight. Talk too little. Watch the doors like prey instead of predators.Something is wrong.Fang stands near the center of it all, arms crossed over his chest, jaw locked so tight I can see the muscle jumping benea

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-14

Chapter 5

Rebel’s POVThe sounds fade slowly, and that was the cruelest part.Not the shouting, not the crashing boots or the barked orders. It’s the quiet that creeps in afterward, thick and suffocating, like the world has decided to hold its breath and forget I exist.I sit curled on the floor of the safe room long after the last echo dies. My knees are locked to my chest and my fingers ache from gripping my sleeves too tightly. I don’t know how much time passes it could be minutes, maybe hours. There’s no clock in here since Fang designed it that way.Safe rooms don’t care about comfort, they care about survival.My ears ring as I strain for any sound. Anything. Fang’s voice. A familiar footstep. The clink of a bottle or the hum of the clubhouse settling back into itself.Nothing.Silence presses in, heavy and cold.My chest aches with every breath. They took him, I heard the cuffs, I heard his voice go tight with fury as they dragged him away, and I heard him tell them to go to hell.I pres

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-14

Chapter 6

Rebel’s POVThe clubhouse doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It should, every scuffed floorboard, every oil-stained wall, every flickering light has always meant home. But now it feels like unfamiliar territory that is crowded with strange scents and unfamiliar power. The Iron Howlers’ presence is gone, stripped away in the wake of the raid, leaving behind an echo that hurts to breathe through.And in its place, them. I sit stiffly on the edge of one of the bar stools, hands clenched in my lap, heart beating too fast. Ruin stands a few feet away, giving me space like he knows I need it. The others linger nearby, watchful but not looming.Still, my omega is a mess, as she presses against my ribs, anxious and overwhelmed, letting out a soft, broken whine that slips past my lips before I can stop it.I clamp my mouth shut, mortified.Ruin’s head lifts instantly and his eyes snap to me, sharp with concern. “Hey,” he says gently. “You don’t need to fight it.”“I…” My voice trembles. “I don’t

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-19

Chapter 7

Rebel’s POVLeaving hurts more than I expected not because I don’t know it’s necessary but because I never imagined I’d leave this way. Quiet, rushed and without Fang watching from the doorway, arms crossed, pretending he isn’t worried sick.My room is stripped down to the basics in minutes. A duffel bag at my feet holds what little is truly mine, a few clothes, boots, an old photo Fang once pretended not to keep, and the book I stole from his shelf all those years ago. The rest, furniture, memories, the scent of home is what I leave behind like bones picked clean.I pause in the doorway and look back one last time.The bed.The wall that hid my safe room.The life I thought was stable.My chest tightens, and my omega whines softly, curling in on herself like she knows this is a severing.“I’m coming back,” I whisper, though I don’t know to who, Fang maybe or myself.Ruin waits outside, helmet tucked under his arm, presence steady and grounding. He watches me with those storm grey eye

Dernière mise à jour : 2025-12-22

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