Heart of a rogue

* Chapter 3

'Above me?'' Alani chuckled, her tone dripping with derision. ''If you've claimed the title, sure, but I don't see a mark on your neck. Until my brother claims you, you're nothing to me.''

I narrowed my eyes at her, a surge of frustration bubbling within me. Was she truly going to play this game? "Look," I said through gritted teeth, my voice strained with impatience. "I just want to see my friend. If you want to put cuffs on me, go ahead. But I need to see Sam."

Alani's smirk only seemed to grow, her eyes glinting with defiance as she crossed her arms, unmoved by my plea. "You're in no position to make demands," she retorted, her voice dripping with contempt. "But if you're so eager to see Sam, I suppose I can accommodate that request."

With a flick of her wrist, she gestured for one of the guards to approach, a silent command conveyed through a curt nod. The guard produced a pair of restraints, metal cuffs gleaming ominously in the harsh light.

I bristled at the sight, my pride warring with my desperation to see Sam. But in the end, my need outweighed my pride, and I reluctantly held out my hands, submitting to the indignity of being shackled. Again. 

Alani's smirk turned triumphant as she secured the cuffs around my wrists, her satisfaction palpable. "There," she said smugly, her tone laced with superiority. "Now you can see your friend. But remember, you're still under our watchful eye."

I gritted my teeth against the urge to retort, knowing that any further argument would only prolong the ordeal. With a curt nod, I turned on my heel and marched towards the camp entrance, the sound of my footsteps echoing.

As I passed through the gates, a sense of relief washed over me, mingled with a renewed determination. Whatever awaited me inside, I was prepared to face it head-on, fueled by the unwavering conviction that nothing would stand in the way of my quest to see Sam.

Alani's words cut through the air with a sharpness that belied her calm demeanor. "He's on cleaning duty," she informed me, her tone matter-of-fact. "Currently, he's cleaning Declan's office."

I raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion creeping into my expression. "Isn't it your office now, though?" I couldn't help but ask. I had heard rumors that Alani had taken over the office, allowing Declan to focus more on the pack and our relationship.

She shook her head, her lips curling into a wry smile. "No, it's still his," she clarified. "I claimed another office."

Her words hung in the air, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play within the pack. But before I could dwell on them further, she added a warning. "You know the way, but don't forget you're being watched," she cautioned, her gaze piercing. "So don't try anything funny."

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at Alani's warning, I simply nodded in acknowledgment before turning to make my way through the building. As I walked, the familiar corridors of the rehabilitation camp seemed to close in around me, each step echoing with the weight of memories both bitter and sweet.

Eventually, I reached Declan's office, the door looming before me like a barrier between past and present. With a deep breath, I pushed it open, steeling myself for whatever lay beyond.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of cleaning supplies, and I could hear the rhythmic sound of sweeping echoing through the room. And then, as I stepped further inside, my eyes fell upon him—Sam, standing in the center of the room with a broom in hand, his back turned to me.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as we regarded each other in silence, the weight of our shared history hanging heavy in the air between us. And then, without a word, Sam turned to face me, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Luce?" he breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A rush of emotion washed over me at the sound of his voice, and before I knew it, I was crossing the room in long strides, closing the distance between us in an instant. And then, with a sob of relief, I threw my arms around him, pulling him close as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

"Sam," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "I've missed you so much."

His arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace, holding me close as if afraid to let go. "I've missed you too, Luce," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I never thought I'd see you again."

I leaned into his embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne bringing a flood of memories rushing back. "I've missed you more than words can say," I admitted, my voice catching in my throat.

''Are we just going to say how much we missed each other?'' Sam pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of relief and disbelief. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad you're okay, fuck, I was so worried!"

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out to grasp his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me in the present moment. ''It was one hell of a ride again," I said softly, my voice filled with gratitude. "I need you."

And that was the first moment in weeks that I allowed myself to cry. I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks as Sam tried to comfort me. All the memories surfaced and I cried and cried, ''fuck, you're so not okay.'' Sam whispered and held onto me, ''the fuck did they do to you?''

I don't know what came over me, but the tears just wouldn't stop flowing, and I found myself bawling on the ground. It was like I was a child again, missing the comforting embrace of my mother. Sam was there, holding me tightly, as if he were the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

It took me a while to compose myself, and only then did I notice the purple details in his uniform, marking him as one of the highest-ranking participants within the camp. "You're purple?" I sniffled, lightly tugging at his sleeves.

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I've been behaving nicely."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," I replied, managing a small smile through my tears.

"That reminds me," he joked, trying to lighten the mood, "weren't you still a grey?"

I chuckled softly at his attempt to make me smile. "Did that bastard hurt you?" he asked, his tone shifting to concern.

I shook my head, wiping away the tears. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Sam's eyes softened at my words. "Of course, you can handle everything. But that doesn't mean you have to." His words were a gentle reminder that it was okay to lean on others, especially in times of need. And in that moment, I was grateful to have him by my side, offering support and comfort when I needed it most.

It reminded me of my past, the many moments that I didn't have someone offering me support. 

I remembered my father, distant and indifferent, his attention always elsewhere, never once acknowledging my existence. And then there was my mother – strict, unforgiving, and relentless in her pursuit of molding me into the perfect young lady. Countless hours were spent sitting through tedious lessons on etiquette, posture, and social decorum, all in the name of propriety. When I didn't behave, she would make me. There's no phsyical punishment that she skipped. 

And no one did anything about it. 

They all knew, all those bastards I used to call my pack.

They knew a little girl walked around with lashes, bloody knuckles and bruises and they just looked away. 

It was a childhood devoid of warmth or affection, where love was a foreign concept and kindness was a luxury I didn't have. My parents' cruelty knew no bounds, their words cutting deeper than any physical pain ever could. My mother could slap me, punch me or whip me. It was painful but do you know what always had hurts the most? Watching other parents cuddle their children, when I never got that. Watch them holds their parent's hand lovingly, when I never got that. Watching them be carried around and given kisses, when I never got that.  I was a prisoner in my own home, suffocating under the weight of their expectations, longing for a taste of freedom.

But despite the adversity I faced, I refused to let their cruelty define me and I went rogue. I learned to steel myself against their harsh words, to build walls around my heart to protect myself. I will not feel that pain again. 

I need to shut it out.