Luna's Revenge

His stark green eyes shone with mirth as he stood on the high ground, watching the crowd collected in front of him as a weekly ritual. Wind blew past his brown tresses, resting on his head in messy waves as his strong jaw tightened when he smirked seeing the doors of the assembly hall opening. The newest rogue was here. With predatory eyes, he watched as the crowd began to part from the very end of the room, slowly proceeding towards the elevated stage he stood on as he watched his men bringing the rogue towards him. Just as it was tradition, the rogue’s face had been covered with a black cloth until he demanded for it to be removed. A step below him, stood a middle-aged, burly man, with shoulder length black hair, braided messily behind his neck. He was taller than him, more muscular and far more experienced, even though, he was not the Alpha. He was not even a wolf, but rather, a scholar, whose family had been a part of this pack, serving as advisors, since time immemorial. “That’s far enough,” the elderly man stated when the men had brought the rogue a few steps closer to the stage, before glancing up at the boy standing on the stage, “whenever you’re ready, Alpha Rowan.” He addressed. Rowan rolled his green eyes, “you do not need to call me that, Uncle Clark.” He muttered under his breath so that only his advisor would be able to hear but Clark only shrugged. That was when one of the men standing beside the rogue kicked in the back of the rogue’s knee, sending him straight to the ground as Rowan watched the display with indifference. “You should know to kneel in front of an Alpha!” The man berated the rogue. Rowan, who hadn’t spoken anything yet, sighed. He saw the eyes in the room looking up at him as if they worshipped the ground that he walked on; although, in a way, they did. He cleared his throat and looked at his pack members who had brought in the rogue, “so, what’s the crime?” He asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the rogue. The man on the right was a short heighted blond with a lean frame, however, irrespective of his short stature, he looked intimidating enough. “We found it hunting on our grounds, Sir. Inside the boundary.” Rowan was tempted to roll his eyes. This was a tardy affair. He knew that in his pack, there was no respect for the lone wolves, the rogues, and that was the reason why they were never treated as a human and the punishment for hunting on pack grounds without the Alpha’s permission was either death or being enslaved. Most rogues chose death. “Show its face.” Rowan ordered and instantly, the black cover on the rogue’s face was revealed and a few gasps rang through the room. Including Rowan’s. Long brown hair ruffled out from under the face cover in voluminous waves as it was removed before they saw a woman’s face looking towards the Alpha with wide, blue eyes. There were tiny freckles on her nose whilst her lips were chapped as her eyes looked like they hadn’t slept in days and her cheeks looked hollow, as if she hadn’t eaten in months. Rowan was shocked to see the undeniable beauty and the raw hunger that was in her eyes. As he looked at her intensely, he felt something tugging at his heart the longer he stared. She was the most humanly angelic thing he had ever seen. She looked like she had been through the worst storm in the century and still managed to defeat it. His eyes darted to the loose shirt that covered her upper body and a pair of baggy pants that were clearly stolen from someone much larger than herself. Her clothes were covered in dust and her long hair still held grass and dirt. Rowan was so busy staring at her that he did not realize when Clark began to speak, “you have two options, rogue, death, or become a loyal servant to this pack. Which do you choose?” He asked in a berating voice, not even caring to know the blue-eyed girl’s name. She, however, was only staring at the ground after she had caught the Alpha’s eye. When she did not reply, the man beside her kicked her in the side, making her wobble on her knees as she fell, groaning in pain. Rowan watched as she seemed to mutter something under her breath before one of the men grabbed her hair before pulling her back in the kneeling position, this time, they made her look straight ahead towards the Alpha. Rowan smirked when he saw her diverting her gaze slightly because of what seemed like fear. He knew that wherever he went, he had that effect on people. He was used to it by now. “Choose.” The man beside her hissed. Everyone in the room was curious considering that choosing to serve the Viribus pack was the most inhumane decision anyone could ever make for themselves. Of all the rogues they had ever captured, the smart ones chose death whereas the others who did choose to serve the pack, did not survive doing so. “I would like time to think.” She stated in a cold voice, although the edge of fear in her tone was not missed. Her words sent the whole room into bellowing laughter, even Clark chuckled shaking his head as he slightly loosened his grip on the broad sword that he was holding in front of him. She figured that it was for executions. When she turned back her gaze towards Rowan, he was looking at her with intrigue but said nothing. “I don’t believe you have the time, b***h!” The man who was still pulling at her hair, spat. “Then I choose to live.” She countered and now, the room was stunned to silence. Rowan raised an eyebrow, “are you aware which pack surrounds you?” He asked incredulously. “The Viribus pack.” She answered through gritted teeth. “And you still choose to be held captive here and spend the rest of your life doing meaningless, menial tasks for us?” Clark spoke up this time and was amazed when he saw her nod. The crowd was shocked at her words as no one dared to speak for the next few moments. That was when Rowan pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants as he looked down at the girl, “put her with the others, Justin.” He said to the blond man standing beside her, holding her head. Saying nothing, Rowan stepped down from the stage as he passed by the girl, passing her an incoherent glance as her gaze was once again fixed on the floor now. The crowd parted ways for the second time as he left. ♚♚♚ A hiss escaped her lips when her body hit the hard ground after Justin threw her inside a cell. She looked up, without turning back as she heard him locking the door behind him. “You will start your duties from tomorrow. Live this free life for as long as you can before you have to walk into hell.” And then all she heard were his receding footsteps. “You seem pretty roughed up.” She heard someone speak as she finally raised her head and looked up. In front of her, was another man sitting inside a cell like her own. There was a wall of iron bars running vertically and horizontally between the two. Looking around, she saw that the cell had a ragged mattress placed against the wall to her right and a wooden pitcher that might have contained water. She was a prisoner. She darted her eyes back towards the man in the cell beside her own as she gazed at his appearance. He wore clothes which were much similar to her own but she could tell that they had once been in pristine condition. His beard almost extended till his collar bone and his hair was rough and frizzy because of not being washed for days. He looked awful. Especially with a scar that bisected his right cheek in half, running vertically, all the way into his beard and disappearing underneath. “Well, the Viribus beatings are not friendly.” She said with hooded eyes with a voice that held a tinge of humour. “So, are you going to be killed?” He asked next. She shook her head, “no, I chose to serve.” His eyes widened at that. “My oh my, I did hear the guards gossiping about a rogue asking to serve but I never thought it was possible.” He said in a baffled tone. She dusted off her hands as she got up from the ground and shrugged before walking over to the mattress and sat down, facing him, with her back against the wall. “I guess I just don’t want to die.” Her voice was hollow, as if she did not care about what she said. He looked at her with the same expression that she had received from everyone in the hall. “I don’t think you understand how cruel this pack can get.” She scoffed, “you’re one to talk. You’re in the same cell as I am, and you look pretty alive to me.” He smiled, “that is the thing, love, I am not a servant here. I am a prisoner of war and I have been in this cell for almost ten years now.” She raised her eyebrow before looking away from him, suddenly feeling like her words had been insensitive. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She whispered and he started chuckling. “That’s okay,” he stated, “so, what is your name and what was your crime?” He asked her with curiosity. She pondered over whether or not to answer to him before she rolled her eyes to herself. “I’m Ophelia, I was hunting on their grounds.” She answered. “Why? Did you not see the pack symbol?” He asked. The pack symbol. The black crow that had been pained on an oak tree right outside the boundaries. “I saw it. But I was in my wolf form and hungry. And the deer I saw was just a few steps inside, so I thought that I wouldn’t be caught.” She answered, looking up at the charred ceiling, realizing that the room she was sitting in had been burnt to the ground once, “clearly I chose wrong.” She muttered. “Well, I’m glad to have company.” The man stated and she looked at him before shaking her head with a lope-sided smile. “So, which pack did you belong to?” She asked him. “And what’s your name?” “I’m Adrian.” He answered before his lips pulled down in a frown, “and honestly, I don’t remember my pack name or place anymore. I was six when they took me and I have been here since then.” She furrowed her eyes, “you look pretty old for someone who is supposed to be sixteen.” She observed, “no offence.” He smiled, “none taken. And to clear your questions, these people haven’t allowed me to turn. Not even once.” Her eyes widened listening to that. She knew that the werewolves who never shifted aged faster than the average human and by the speed Adrian was going, she was sure that he only had a handful of years down the road. “I am sorry.” She stated before realizing that this was the second time, she was saying that to him. He seemed to observe the same thing as he laughed, resting his head against the wall. “You sure know how to make a man regret his condition; I’ll give you that.” He commented and she almost felt bad for her words but when she saw his carefree smile, she decided not to push it. She gave him a half-hearted smile before lying down on the mattress and turning her back against him, making it evident that she did not wish to speak anymore. Unknown to him, her fingers were clasped around her bracelet pendant which was a silver replica of a broad sword as she continued to fiddle with it, not realizing when sleep took over her eyes.