Rogue Royalty, The Rebel Princess

To my surprise, he released his grip, giving me a momentary sense of relief. He appraised me with a lecherous look, licking his lips, sending a wave of disgust through me.

"It's just a matter of time. I've made arrangements," Wade whispered menacingly into my ear, before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

A deal? What the hell does he mean? I shuddered at the possibilities running through my mind at the time. I couldn't do this much longer. I am seventeen and still suffering. I have suffered for seventeen years. I really can't take this anymore. I physically and mentally can't cope any more. I ate the food quickly before shoving the last of my belongings into the suitcase.

You see, this wasn't my home. This was a pack house. This wasn't our pack house. This was the pack house of another pack who my father had destroyed yesterday. We had been hiding out in the forest in a campsite we had set up. My father had made sure a couple of the pack members went missing and then yesterday my father had declared a full war. The pack was small. It was wiped out in a couple of hours. We had taken minimal damage. I didn't personally fight because my father doesn't want me to. He doesn't trust me to not let one of the opposing side just end my life.

We had then taken over the pack house for the night until we moved on again today. All we would leave behind was the devastation. I had been shoved into this room which used to be the Alpha's son's room. I had struggled to get to sleep. The guilt I felt for all of those that died was overwhelming. I had tossed and turned most of the night.

I grabbed my suitcase and headed out of the room. I followed the corridors down towards the front entrance. I passed other rogues but didn't look at them as I went by. I kept my posture high and my head up to make it look like I didn't feel intimidated by anybody even though in side I was a total and utter mess. I followed the scent all the way down to the main entrance. Someone took my suitcase from me and out to one of the cars.

My father was at the front door looking totally and utterly furious. I got scared then. I was ten minutes early. Surely, I haven't done anything. I looked at myself. I was presentable. Dark clothing nothing girly.

He stormed up to me grabbing my wrist.

"I told you not to be LATE. Don't you understand," he screamed at me.

"I was ten minutes early," I protested in vain.

"Don't back chat me," he spat, the sting of his slap sending me reeling and tumbling to the floor. Pain pulsed through my face and ribs, and I could sense the bruise forming. I could endure no more. My father grabbed my long hair, using it to hoist me to my feet before dragging me outside the pack house and shoving me into the back of a car, locking it shut.

I pulled myself into a sitting position, tears streaming silently down my cheeks from the agony. Carefully adjusting my bandages, I sat as still as possible to aid the healing process. Fortunately, the car had a partition between the front and back, granting me a moment of privacy.

The engine roared to life, and the car began to move. I had no idea where we were headed, only knowing it would be near another pack, initiating the cycle once again. I despised my life, enduring daily beatings from my father. Sometimes, I wished death would come for me. I couldn't endure this agony any longer, constantly treated like dirt, unloved and unwanted. I was a pawn in everyone's games, a life devoid of love or care. I yearned for a normal family, one that would love and protect me.

I realized I didn't truly have a life. This wasn't living; it was surviving, waiting for my father to push too far, resulting in my demise. At times, I didn't consider that outcome a tragedy. It would free me from this wretched existence, this constant suffering. I wished for numbness, an escape from the pain.

Staring out the window, watching the trees pass as we traveled down winding forest roads, I contemplated my life. Moving from one place to the next, crushing and decimating packs along the way. What kind of monsters were we? We crossed a country's border, no longer in France but now in Germany. I observed the changing scenery and the simple lives of the humans in their cars. I longed for such simplicity and ease.

Hours seemed to pass as we drove on. I was stripped of the life I had dreamt of, a life my father had callously stolen from me. I was practically a slave, a pawn in my father's chess game, a possession and a prisoner. Fear gnawed at me, wondering what more he would do. He was heartless, indifferent to my well-being or survival.

The guilt that weighed on me daily was unbearable. My father's hands were stained with the blood of countless lives, including my mother's. There was a high likelihood that I would meet a similar fate. I yearned to be free from this anguish, this torment. I had reached my breaking point. I didn't want this life anymore...