She Rogue

7. From Survival To Thriving

Mark opened the back door of the SUV for me, his towering presence making the already large vehicle seem smaller. I climbed in, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the ride. Werewolves always had a thing for big, fancy cars—the bigger, the better. It was almost a cliché at this point, but I wasn’t about to complain.

As the car rumbled to life, Mark glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Where to, pumpkin?”

I gave him my address, and his brow rose. “The outskirts of the city?”

“Yes,” I said simply. “It’s cheaper there and calmer. Less trouble. I like it that way.”

He didn’t argue, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he turned his attention to the road, navigating through the city with ease.

The drive was long—nearly an hour—but I didn’t mind. It gave me time to think, though I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. My thoughts inevitably drifted back to Gabriel, to the way he’d looked at me, the way his touch had lingered just a fraction too long.

“So, how’d you even get to ‘Lola’ from all the way out here?” Mark’s voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said curtly, deflecting the question. The last thing I wanted was for him to know how precarious my life really was.

Mark didn’t push, though I could feel his curiosity lingering in the air.

When we arrived, I jumped out of the SUV before he could open the door for me, trying to maintain some semblance of independence. He followed, carrying two oversized plastic bags and the champagne, his bulk making my small shack look even more pitiful by comparison.

His expression betrayed a flicker of disapproval as he took in my home, but he didn’t say anything. I knew what he was thinking, though. From the outside, the shack looked like it might collapse under its own weight, but inside, it was livable. Functional. Barely.

I led him to my tiny kitchen, where a round wooden table sat at the center with two mismatched chairs. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

“Would you like some tea? Coffee? Champagne?” I asked with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“No thanks, pumpkin. You need your rest,” he said, placing the bags on the table.

“I’ve got it from here,” I insisted, though he didn’t look convinced. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much food in one place. I’ll take my time sorting it all out.”

“If you’re sure,” Mark said, his tone skeptical.

“Positive,” I replied firmly.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned to leave. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at two. Don’t argue,” he added before I could protest.

And with that, he was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge.

“Aurelia,” I called inwardly. “Wake up.”

“I’m not sleeping,” my wolf purred, her tone smug.

“What’s going on with you?” I demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been quiet all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you smirked earlier, when I left that meeting... Care to explain?”

Aurelia sighed, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. “I stayed quiet because there was no danger. I could smell the lust on him, but his wolf was under control. There was no need to intervene.”

“Lust?” I repeated, incredulous.

“Oh, don’t act so shocked, Atria. You felt it too.”

I flushed, grateful no one could see my face.

“You could’ve warned me,” I muttered.

“And scare him off? Absolutely not. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. That man has a weakness, and now we know how to exploit it.”

Aurelia’s tone was sly, almost predatory, and it sent a chill down my spine.

“Weakness? What weakness?”

“You,” Aurelia said simply. “He’s drawn to you, even if he doesn’t understand why yet. If we play our cards right, he’ll be eating out of your hand in no time.”

Her confidence unsettled me. “When did you become so calculated?”

“Since the night we almost died,” she said, her voice turning serious. “That night changed everything, Atria. You were scarred by it, but I learned from it. Predators like Gabriel don’t scare me. They’re tools—assets to be used.”

I shivered, her words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “I don’t want to be like that,” I said quietly.

“And that’s why you’re still alive,” Aurelia replied, her tone softening. “Because I’m here to do what you can’t.”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to.

*******

As I put away the food, my thoughts churned with Aurelia’s words. She wasn’t wrong—we’d been through hell, and I was still standing because of her. But the idea of using someone, even someone like Gabriel, felt… wrong.

And yet, wasn’t survival the only thing that mattered?

I poured myself another glass of champagne, drinking it from an old ceramic mug because I didn’t own any proper glasses. The bubbles tickled my lips, a small indulgence in a life that rarely offered any luxuries.

As the evening wore on, the weight of the day began to catch up with me. My body ached, my mind raced, and exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket.

I fell asleep on the couch, the empty mug still in my hand and Aurelia’s words echoing in my mind.

From survival to thriving.



Could it really be that simple?