The Last Rouge
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- Parts 6
My existence was a flaw. A mistake. At least that's what they said. What he said. I was supposed to be dead. With the rest of them. The rouges, my family. I was supposed to been executed with the rest of them. Then the Werewolf Realm would be perfect. Flawless. No one wanted me alive, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Survival was my only hope, success my revenge.
⚪️⚫️🔵⚪️⚫️🔵⚪️⚫️🔵⚪️⚫️🔵⚪️⚫️🔵
Over the years werewolves have slayed the rouge species off. There were no more left. The population was extinct. At least that's what they believed until a female rouge is spotted.
Hunted down immediately, she runs. She's always been running. But this time she runs a little to far. To far being the Vampire realm.
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Every time I tried to stop, something clenched in my stomach, instinctual and feral. It compelled me to move. Sometimes it felt like it was pulling me in the opposite direction, back the way I came. That feeling I ignored - nothing short of demonic possession could convince me to go anywhere near that forest ever again. It wouldn't be nearly long enough that I would realize I hadn't imagined that pull. That some invisible force was compelling me towards that man. To Nate. When I did realize, I made sure I used it to keep running in the opposite direction of wherever it told me to go. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Picture this: you're a 17 year old werewolf. Your Alpha, under false counsel, believes your entire family instigated a failed coup so he kills your parents, and you're next. Your options are basically die now, or turn rogue and die anyways. What do you choose - swift and painless, or drawn out and lonely? If you answered, "Neither," then you'd be correct. I didn't anticipate, though, that one bad theft in the beginning was going to send a ripple that would come back to haunt me in unimaginable ways.
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