03| god's challenge

03; god's challenge

There were pros and cons when it came to being a rogue. Every rogue knows what each column is entitled.

Being a rogue meant freedom would be promised, to an extent. The extent being unclaimed lands was the limit. The werewolf ruling system was set in place by the first King of Alphas. To be Frank, it was a reasonable system.

Lands could only be claimed by alpha-borns. Packs can only be ruled by alphas who were born into the titles. Packs without an heir of alpha blood will be handed over to the royals to determine then which standing alpha is most capable of controlling an expanding pack.

In the Werewolf World, there was nothing such as giving everyone a fair chance. Life isn't fair, the world isn't fair, and werewolves surely had no desire to change that anytime soon.

By blood, alphas were born and trained to lead. The power runs within their veins, and when rules are set aside as such, bloodlines remain distinct and clean for a long time.

Betas were born to fight alongside their alphas as the pack's best fighters. Gammas and deltas were exceptional-born warriors who had demonstrated themselves well enough to assist their alphas and betas.

Every birth in a pack has its purpose. Regardless of significance in the pack, an alpha needs his pack members in order to lead. Every pack member is valued for their loyalty and existence.

However, the same could not be said about rogues. Two kinds of rogues exist: the first is those born into it or banished from their packs and the second is those who chose it.

While the two kinds are very different in terms of their reasons, rogues will always be viewed for what they are. Unloyal. Unworthy. Untrustable.

Werewolves were not meant to roam alone. And those who choose so will be taught by others that it does not end well.

Chelsea chose this path to be a rogue. She knew exactly what was ahead when she signed the paperwork and stepped out of her pack for the last time at sixteen.

Freedom was only promised within unclaimed grounds. Upon entering any claimed territory, there were only two outcomes - escape before the patrol guards catch up or submit and get put into the dungeons to be tortured and killed.

it was a foolish mistake to listen to her wolf, she thought bitterly.

The dungeon keepers were locking up her cell. The sound of rusted metal gates and chains coming together would have made her whine on other occasions but instead, she only stoned in a corner of the empty mud-glazed cell.

Should have fought harder to escape, she scolded herself silently, cursing at herself for being so unusually weak suddenly.

She could have run when the angry Alpha left and she was asked to shift into her human form by the beta; she could have run then. But she did not. And why didn't she? That, she didn't know.

Stepping into a claimed land by accident had happened before for Chelsea. There were times when she was caught and others when she had escaped. Every time, however, she would never back down before giving a good fight. This time though, she did not fight like she used to. She was just too angry with herself to do anything.

Angry that she had let her wolf take control. Angry that she had a mate. Angry that she had found him and recognized him. Angry that she was actually running towards him unknowingly and into his land. Angry that he had reacted the same way as her, cold and distant.

She knew she would have preferred that over a clingy mate, but something about his reaction ate at her. She almost hated it.

So she sat in her empty cell, with only a loose shirt covering her naked body. The beta was kind enough to offer his sweaty shirt to her when he threw her into this very cell as he was ordered to. Chelsea could not lie; she was actually grateful for he could have left her naked in here instead.

Her legs were bent and pressed close to her chest, and she quietly scanned her surroundings. The cell was rectangular, a full-height wall-sized silver laced gate on one side and three stone walls caging her up. On the top of the wall directly opposite the gate was a small barred window that gave an imprisoned wolf a good view of the moon. Right in front of that very wall carved a long drain that connected all the cells in the dungeon; the body wastes were meant to be dumped in that drain as they would all eventually flow along and exit the dungeon grounds. It doesn't take a fool to realize that the drain and its contents were what the whole dungeon reeked of.

Chelsea knew that even in this state, as a pathetic prisoner, she had to hold her pride. It was all she had left long ago and will continue to be all she would ever need.

She knew she would get through this as long as she had her pride. As long as she could remain confident, she would find a way out.

Facing her mate would be easier if she could be certain her pride was all she needed in life. She just had to remember who she was, the arrogant goddamn goddess. A goddess fears no mortal challenge.

She would not get distracted and sniff him again. She would not stare into his eyes for a long minute and consider submitting again. She will submit to no mate.

Besides, if she was as much of an unwanted mate as her mate was to her, she bet she could easily strike a deal with this Alpha. Whatever pack of his she's currently held prisoner in will find a new luna who actually wants to be around for the role.

But that was what she thought, until five days later when she finally faced her mate for real.

A goddess fears no mortal challenge, she repeated to herself silently.

Oh, how wrong she was, to think that her mate was any mortal challenge, for he was God.