All Chapters of The Wolf in Cell Six: Rogue Revolution: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I close my eyes. Let the sun fade my field of vision to a warm, red glow. Feel the heat on my skin. It's a perfect day. Not too warm, not too cold. The birds are singing a song of spring. A gentle breeze wafts campfire smoke, pollen kisses, and promises of tomorrow my way while the swaying of the trees lulls me into a sense of calm. If I focus on it, it almost drowns out the crowd's cheers and taunts, excited for my hanging. It's a perfect day to die. "Amalea Ann Whitehouse, you stand here before the eyes of your alpha and pack condemned to hang on the charges of treason, murder, and arson. Would you like to speak your peace?" The jailer drones on. There are a lot of things I'd like to say to these bastards, but they don't deserve it. They're not worth it. "I am at peace." That's all they get. I open my eyes. Look at the town I once called home. The pack I once called family. The man I thought I might have loved. How did I get here? Standing on the edge of a platform in rags, covere

As the front rig comes to a full stop, the man driving hops out, slamming his door as he does. He's every bit of the average warrior. Tall, muscular, with dark hair and eyes—nothing stand-out. Nothing that would make you look twice at him, at least if you're a werewolf, but his aura is imposing enough that it's obvious this is the gamma, and you can tell he's proud of that. He stands stark straight, perfect posture, head held high. None of the packs use uniforms so as not to draw the attention of humans, but you can tell he imposes one of sorts anyway. I watch as his men begin to file out of the increasing number of vehicles arriving. They are all dressed similarly. Dark slacks, black shoes shined to perfection, plain dark t-shirts. The only difference is in the shirt color and the slight variance of their facial features, and more just keep coming. I try to appraise my new guests. We've housed warriors from nearly every pack now, but never Blood Moon. Their pack is reclusive. Member

The car comes to a sudden stop, slamming me into consciousness and the seat back behind me. I hear car doors shut and feet on gravel before the trunk door opens, and someone pulls me out and to my feet by my hair, dragging me toward the pack house doors. The early morning dawn light is blinding. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. My heart hurts. I'm forced to crouch slightly as the warrior gripping my hair drops his arm. He holds me in place absently while waiting on our warriors to permit him into the pack house. I can't seem to bring myself to think of them as anything but our warriors, but there is no "our" anymore, is there? I'm alone. "They will see you now," one of the gaurds announces, opening the door and leading us into the foyer. It's been so long since I've been to the pack house, and now, to return like this. My feet leave dark marks on the cold marble as dried blood and mud flakes loose. "Stop," the warrior who let us in suddenly comments, "Not her. She's a mess." His eyes gla

It's been hours. Our pack warriors were ready to head out within 10 minutes, but these Blood Moon bastards keep bitching about some sort of schedule that they have to keep. First, they needed breakfast, then some oath to their alpha, training, and a quick shower. Did they fucking forget their gamma and three of their brothers were just slaughtered? These guys are fucking weird. I'm not sure I want to meet the rest of their regime back at the Whitehouse farm, but I'm not going to find any clues about what happened last night anywhere else. Finally, their new "leader," as he's declared himself, saunters up to me at about 11 am. "Let's get moving," he commands like he's not talking to someone well above his rank. I should put him in his place, but he's also not worth wasting any more time. I signal my men, and we load up, finally getting underway. The farm is only about a 25-minute drive from the packhouse. Of course, it's also deeper in the Dark Wood than any other home on the pack lan

“Amalea, wake up.” I open my eyes to Jackson standing over me. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says cheerfully. I brought you some fresh clothes and things. “Alpha wants to see you.” I sit up groggily. “Is James back?” “No,” he answers, handing me an outfit, some wet wipes, a hand mirror, and a brush, “but it’s good news, I think. The Alpha says this will all be settled finally.” I don’t share his optimism. “Settled” could mean a lot of things, and it worries me James isn’t here. My kids aren’t in Green River. They’d never go to Green River. They are in the cave. I know it, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, to trust him. What worries me more is that he said he had a reliable source. This smells like trouble. The Alpha wanted James gone for some reason, out of the way. He has already interrogated me numerous times, ordering me not to tell James successfully, so that’s not it unless he plans to take things further. Each time he’s tried thus far, he’s forced his command on me, and