My Rogue King

Cara’s pov

My heart was pounding like a war drum as I sprinted up the worn stairs of the old building. The cold, damp air bit at my skin, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

“Cara, wait!” Alice's voice echoed through the empty corridors, filled with concern. Her plea was swallowed by the groaning of old wood beneath our feet, but I didn’t turn back.

I forced myself forward, bearing the exhaustion that wanted to engulf me. unshed tears burned my eyes.

“Just leave me alone!”

I choked out, my voice raw and trembling. I didn’t care how broken I sounded, I just needed to escape this endless nightmare to find some sliver of peace.

My pack, bluecreek pack, is a very big pack. It has many structures and investments to its name, example is this old building where the servant and the Omegas call home. A building that has been left in the mercy of destruction by my alpha, but seeing that his labour force, practically us the servants, were increasing in number, decided to renovate the abandoned property.

I ran blindly to my room, not caring about my worried friend running after me. I just needed some space after being treated like a remote-controlled pet, which I already was anyway after coming from the alpha office.

I fumbled with the right key on the lock, but my shaking hands just can’t cooperate with me. But at last, the door opened, and I stumbled inside, locking the door behind me.

Leaning against the door, I slid to the floor, gasping for breath. The tears that I had tried so hard to hold back earlier when I was in the Alpha office, now spilled freely, blurring my vision as they fell.

I clutched my head, as if I could somehow block out the tormenting memories.

It all started this morning…

flashback*****

(In the morning)

I had just woken up from my sleep, dragging myself out of bed. The icy chill of the morning air kissed my skin as I dragged myself out of bed. The cold bath I forced myself to take did little to wake me from the numbness that clung to my soul.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror above the rusted sink, I stared at the girl reflected back at me, a shadow of who I once was. My pale, gaunt face, framed by limp hair, stared back at me. My cracked lips and hollow cheeks bore the evidence of years of suffering.

I hissed in pain as I carefully unwrapped the bandages around my arm, revealing yet another scar to add to the collection etched onto my skin. My once-smooth flesh now served as a canvas of my torment, each mark a reminder of the punishments I’d endured. The Bane Whip, dipped in wolfsbane to resist our natural healing, had left scars down my back that would never fade.

The faded marks of my past punishments mocked me as I touched the most recent wound, still tender and angry. My fingers trembled, but I forced myself to focus. Years of tending to my own injuries, and sometimes those of others, had made me an unwilling expert in first aid.

My hair, still damp from the bath, was piled carelessly on my head, a far cry from the long, silky locks that used to flow down my back. Not that it mattered. Here, in this hellhole, appearance was the least of my concerns.

With a sigh, I slipped into the tattered dress that marked me as an Omega. The fabric hung loosely on my thin frame, a reminder of how little we were given and how much was expected in return.

As I stepped out of my room, Alice’s cheerful voice greeted me. “Good morning, damsel in distress!”

I rolled my eyes, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Who’s a damsel, you old witch?” I retorted, nudging her playfully.

Alice, my only friend in this forsaken pack, had a way of lifting my spirits even in the darkest moments. She was a refugee too, her pack destroyed by rogues, and her cheerfulness was a small comfort in this shared misery.

“Are you ready for the big day?” she teased, her voice laced with excitement.

“It’s just a party,” I muttered, shaking my head. Alice’s boundless enthusiasm was both admirable and baffling.

As we made our way to the dining hall, she chattered on about the upcoming celebration, some grand affair to announce the Alpha’s son as heir. The thought of celebrating anything in this wretched place felt absurd to me.

Seated at the table reserved for Omegas, I listened to the hum of gossip around me. Alice and Julia, another servant, debated the party details. My attention waned until Julia leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Did you hear? The Rogue King was spotted near the neighbouring pack.”