Heart of a rogue

* Chapter 1 - Prologue - going rogue

Woohoo, new story alert! Just a heads-up—this one dives into some dark themes and might get a little controversial. Consider this your warning! I'm not one for drawn-out intros, so let's dive straight in. Enjoy!

Note (11-11-2024): This story is complete, but I'm still making some tweaks. Each chapter will be edited over time, so keep in mind that details may shift as I polish things up. Chapters marked with a * have been edited.

...

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown, but longed for still. And her tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings for freedom.

Have you ever felt like you were trapped in a cage? Life around you looks perfectly fine—plenty of food, water, a roof over your head, and yet something inside you feels restrained, unfulfilled. It's like you have everything you need to survive, but not the freedom to truly live. I feel that way every day, and it eats away at me.

But I wasn't always caged. There was a moment when I decided to break free, to step into the unknown despite knowing all the dangers that lurked outside. It was a choice—a moment when I realized I wanted to live for myself, not just by everyone else's expectations. That choice became the start of my journey: a story of growth, of love, and of finding my true self.

I want to take you on that journey with me. I'll tell you about the two people I fell in love with, the friends I made, and the friends I lost along the way. I'll tell you how, bit by bit, I uncovered the person I was meant to be, not the person everyone around me tried to mold me into. Eventually, I would find myself, stronger and truer than ever, and gain far more than I ever expected.

And it all started on my sixteenth birthday.

...

"For the love of God, Lucille, wear something nice!" My mother's eyes darted up and down, clearly unimpressed. "You can't possibly wear that for your birthday, sweetie!"

I rolled my eyes, wishing she'd just call me Lucy. Today was my sixteenth birthday, and I'd been looking forward to it with a mix of excitement and dread. Turning sixteen meant my first shift was imminent. I could feel a strange, almost electric pull under my skin, like my wolf was restless, begging for release. But as tradition would have it, I couldn't shift just yet.

In our world, werewolves can shift at sixteen. It's considered our coming-of-age, proof that we're ready to step into the responsibilities of adulthood. But for high-ranking wolves like me, there's a catch: we have to wait until the full moon, when the entire pack gathers to witness our transformation. This ritual has been done for generations. And as luck would have it, the full moon just so happened to fall on my birthday.

"It's fine, Mom," I protested. "It's just a dress!" I knew it was no use, though. As the Luna of our pack, she was always poised, always impeccable. My mother looked like she walked straight out of some perfect, timeless portrait: elegant, regal, every strand of hair in place.

My father, the Alpha of the Harding pack, wasn't any less traditional. Because of their titles, they'd always been strict with me and my younger brother, Isaac. But being the oldest, I had it worse. They held me to impossible standards, and as any "good daughter" would, I usually just gritted my teeth and bore it.

As expected, Mom didn't let my wardrobe protest slide. She pulled out a long, flowing white dress, its bodice embroidered with delicate floral patterns, and held it up with a satisfied look. Before I knew it, she had me slipping it on. She braided my hair and twisted it up, tugging loose a few strands to frame my face. Light makeup followed. She dabbed at her eyes as she looked me over. "You look so beautiful, Lucille. I am so proud of you."