Rogue’s Redemption

Chapter2

Wren’s POV

I’m plastered against a gnarled pine, my chest heaving like I’ve outrun death itself. My body’s screaming muscles burned out, bare feet torn and bloody from tearing through the valley’s rocky trails. I made it past the Bloodhowl pack’s border, somehow, my lungs burning as I suck in the chilly night air. I’m in no-man’s-land now, caught between the pack that spit me out and a big, scary unknown.

If I had a wolf, maybe I’d stand a chance, but nope my inner beast is a ghost, just like every other runt’s. Growing up, while other kids were howling at their first shifts, I was stuck with library books, reading about wolves I’d never meet. At eighteen, I’m a dud, my scrawny frame proof I’ll never shift. No wolf, no mate, no nothing. Just Wren, the dirt nobody wants.

Ryde Hawthorn, the alpha’s son, made that crystal clear. He rejected me, his fated mate, like I was a stain on his shiny war-hero boots. His words worthless, mutt, banished cut deeper than the kick he landed, bruising my ribs and my soul. I’m a joke to the pack, too weak to bear his kids, too pathetic to boost his alpha cred. He saw me and decided I’d drag him down, no second chances.

It stings worse than the cold biting my skin, worse than the fact he could’ve just killed me for “insulting” him with my existence. Maybe, with time, I could’ve grown tougher, found my wolf with his help. But Ryde didn’t care. He tossed me out, and now I’m running for my life.

I swipe at my tears, stumbling forward, my scarf knitted from scavenged yarn pulled tight around my face. It’s rough, but it’s warm, my only comfort as I limp through the dark. All I want is distance from the Bloodhowl pack, from the laughter, the kicks, the rejection that’s still clawing my heart. The valley’s a maze of pines and jagged rocks, the moonlight barely cutting through the fog.

My steps are shaky, no plan, no destination, just a need to keep moving. Hours blur, my feet throbbing, my mind stuck on Ryde’s gray eyes, cold as ice. In a twisted way, I’m lucky he didn’t rip my throat out. Banishment’s a mercy, right? Doesn’t feel like it.

A sharp sound slices the night, a train horn, low and rumbling, like a beast waking up. My heart jumps, panic and hope tangling in my chest. I’m freezing, my ripped clothes no match for the wind, and I know I won’t survive out here alone. That train could be my shot, my ticket to somewhere, anywhere far from the pack’s claws. I push toward the sound, my bloody feet slipping on pine needles, a flicker of crazy hope driving me.

The horn grows louder, a lifeline in the dark, and I’m praying it’ll carry me to a place where someone might give a damn. Maybe a new pack, a kind stranger, something better than this.

After what feels like forever, I stumble into a clearing by the tracks, a gritty rest stop lit by flickering lamps. A train sits there, long and rusted, with workers hauling crates under the moonlight. I duck behind a bush, my breath hitching, watching them laugh and shove boxes. The air’s heavy with oil and steel, their voices mixing with the clank of metal.

These guys aren’t wolves, just humans, but I’m not dumb if they spot me, they’ll think I’m a thief, or worse, a rogue shifter up to no good. My scarf’s pulled low, hiding my face as I scan the train, eyeing the open freight cars. It’s nuts, but it’s my only shot.

The workers start to scatter, their job done, leaving the train unguarded for a hot second.

My heart pounded heavily in my chest and my ribs ached badly, but I won’t be freezing to death out here in nowhere. I took a shaky breath slowly, the cold air stung my lungs. I made a move. I dart from the bush, legs wobbling, and sprint to an open freight car, my bare feet silent on the gravel.

Fear’s screaming in my head, but I climb in, quick and quiet, slipping into the dark like a shadow. The car’s a cave, slivers of moonlight sneaking through cracked walls, the air thick with rust and grease. I don’t care, it’s my escape, my middle finger to Ryde and the pack.

I find a corner, curling up on the hard floor, the faint heat from the train’s steam seeping through. My heartbeat’s a drum, loud and scared, reminding me how wild this is. The train jerks, coming alive with a groan, and the wheels start rolling, a steady thump-thump that shakes my bones.

I’ve never been on a train, never left the pack’s lands, and now I’m speeding away from everything I know. The lodge, the taunts, Ryde’s boot it’s all fading, but so’s the pack bond, unraveling like a frayed rope. I’m a rogue now, my scent shifting, a death sentence if any wolf catches me.

The train’s rhythm is weirdly soothing, rocking me as I huddle in my scarf. I’m leaving behind the Bloodhowl pack, the only home I’ve had, even if it was a prison. Ahead’s a big question mark, and my gut’s twisting with nerves. I don’t know jack about the world out there. Books and whispers taught me about pack wars tearing up the country, but details? Nada.

The pack always said we were safer in their claws, and I believed it until they kicked me out. Now I’m on my own, no wolf, no family, no clue.

I close my eyes, letting the train’s sway pull me under, my body too beat to fight sleep. Today’s gotta be the worst day of my life, but that’s not saying much. My whole eighteen years have been a string of crap bullied, ignored, worthless. I don’t know what’s next, where this train’s headed, or if I’ll even survive.

All I want is a place where I’m not a runt, where someone might want me, just a little. Is that too much to dream? The train hums, carrying me into the dark, and I’m praying for a sunrise that doesn’t bite.