The Bullied Rogue & Her Triplet Alphas

Mates?

EMILY

It was dark for a long time. And then... I felt a cold splash on my skin, followed by the sensation of liquid soaking through my clothes.

Water. Cold water.

Someone was trying to wake me up by pouring a pail of water on me. I shivered but did not sit up. My head hurt, my throat was dry, and I was chilled from the icy water stuck to my skin. I looked up slowly and saw two huge men standing over me with disgusted expressions on their square faces.

"Get up, you wretch!" A foot slammed into me from the side, and I whimpered and curled into myself even more to avoid the next several kicks from my captors.

I was more concerned with the gaps in my memory, as I couldn't recall anything. Why was I lying on cold, dusty concrete, clad in a tattered wedding dress? Where was I? Who were these men?

Those questions circulated in my mind for a long while until yesterday's events came rushing back, and with it came a headache and an odd feeling of melancholy and rage.

I remembered the wedding and my furious run out of the castle with nothing on my feet, then there was the argument with my brother and the inevitable split; he went his way, and I went mine. I wondered briefly if he'd made it safely to the rogue town, but even if he had, I was unlikely to find out because I wasn’t likely to live another day.

The look on these men's faces promised nothing but a slow, torturous death, just as they had promised me the day before when they had grown tired of my screams for help.

I remember waking up from my drug-induced coma after being captured and seeing myself in this cell.

"Who are you?” I had screamed at the guard close by. I was terrified, but living with my father had taught me one thing - you never exhibit fear. Ever.

"Shut up, mutt!" The guard slammed a baton against the bars, the metallic rod striking my fingers, and I hastily retreated.

My eyes had welled with unshed tears, but I kept my chin up resolutely and inquired in the most level tone I could muster. "Why am I here?"

"Why are you here?" He crushed his yellow teeth together and leaned forward. "Because you're a rogue b***h, the markings on your back prove that."

A shudder went down my spine.

"You just so happened to cross our borders, and any rogue who dares do that… they only ever end in two ways," he went on to say. "You are either slain on sight or sent to the gallows. You would have been killed on sight, but Axle claims you ran your mouth too much and tried to resist when he captured you. So, you've been sentenced to a public execution, which is fitting for a proud b***h like you."

My heart stopped. Like, genuinely stopped pumping blood. I’d gripped the cell bars tightly and said firmly. “You can't do that. I didn't know I was in your damn borders, or I wouldn't have crossed it in the first place."

"That's too damn bad, isn't it." The guard reached through the bars to seize my face. "Well, you’re not bad looking for a rogue. It's a shame you’ll have to die. You would have been better off living."

I wanted to spit on him, but he released me before I could and returned to his position just out of sight range.

"Hey!" I screamed, desperation and terror driving me. "Let me go, dammit! Please!”

My voice shook with the final syllable. Regardless of how hard I rattled the bars and yelled, the guard did not return. I roamed the cramped, dank cage in search of a way out. There were no seams, the window bars were thick, and the walls and floors were solidly cemented to the ground.

I promised myself I would not fall asleep, who knows what they would do to me if I did. But once the sun went down and the room became entirely black, I had no choice. I had fallen asleep, and...

A foot struck my face, jarring me out of my reverie, and I let out a small gasp and scrambled to my feet. The two men, glaring down at me with scorn, tossed a little bag at me.

"Change," one of them grumbled; he had a scar on his right eye and hadn't spoken since they entered.

"What?" I looked down at the bag. I could see the clothing within, barely-there rags that were filthy even compared to the theme ants on my bridal gown. "I'm not wearing these."

"Thorough luck," The man shrugged his eyes and kicked me again hard. "Either you put it on yourself, or we'll strip you bare and do it for you."

Neither of these options was appealing, but I didn't want to be touched inappropriately by these men. The thought alone made me want to vomit.

So, I did what they said. I stood up reluctantly and shed my dignity along with my wedding dress. They didn't move or look away as I gently tugged down the dress, revealing the flowery underwear I'd been forced into the day before. Recently, it appeared that my outfit options were entirely beyond my control.

I resisted the loathing that crawled all over my skin as they watched me put on the rags as intently as they watched me remove my clothing. I strongly desired to curse at them, but it wouldn't help me right now. What would help me was using this opportunity to take a look around.

I did it discreetly, of course, while I struggled with my dress and claimed to be unfamiliar with the buttons and cloth clips at the back. My mind was racing, and I was formulating a plan, albeit slowly and reluctantly, because the more I studied the walls and hallway outside the cage, the more complicated my escape seemed.

No matter: I'd fled my father's troops, run through a forest barefoot, and evaded arrest for the second time by rogue warriors. This would be nothing compared to that, and I certainly didn’t go through all that to die like a chicken. Such a pathetic death wasn’t what I deserved.

"You must be someone special," One of the men sneered at me. He hauled me towards him, clamping metal chains around my hands. "I heard the higher-ups are coming just for her."

The other one snorted. "Really? What for?"

"Not sure," said the one with the scar as he shoved me out of the cell. "They don't ever do s**t like this; someone must want you dead bitch."

I kept my tongue between my teeth to prevent myself from speaking. I couldn't put up a fight here or right now.

If I wanted my plan to work, that is.

We soon left the cell building, and as we walked, I made notes on every twist and turn taken. I wasn't sure if it was even necessary, but in this case, it was better to be cautious than sorry.

I expected to be escorted straight to the chopping block, but my pace slowed slightly when I observed a crowd gathered just a few feet away.

Hundreds of eyes were riveted on me, and none showed pity. Instead, they began booing and throwing items at me. There were muffled screams of 'Kill the b***h!' There were also some rogue-related obscenities thrown around. Women, children, and men, not one of them spared me.

A stick struck my knees, rotten food smeared my face, and a few children rushed out to scratch me as I passed.

My breathing was shallow, and the only emotion I could feel was curiosity. Curiosity about what rogues had done to them because while there had been decades of wars between rogues and normal werewolves, the hatred burning in these people's eyes was personal, and it terrified me to bits.

"Keep moving, woman!" Someone hissed behind me. He shoved me, and if not for the cuffs on my wrist, I would have fallen face down to the ground.

The screaming intensified as I was led up the dais, where a short, overweight guy stared at me with hatred. When I was forced to stand close to him, his chubby face twisted into an irritated grimace, but he remained motionless.

He was presumably trying to appear unconcerned by my presence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the audience immediately fell silent. "Today, we're witnessing the first public execution we've done in a long, long time."

The cheering began again, and I felt ill to my stomach.

"And before we begin," the man turned to see four older-looking elders walk forward. Like everyone else, my presence seemed to irritate them, and they all gave me harsh stares before handing over a long piece of rope to the obese man.

That was when I realized I needed to get ready.

"We'll form the noose," he answered coldly as the cheering continued. Eggs were hurled at me, and as they chanted whatever, I could see the sick grimace on their faces. They were all prepared to witness my miserable demise.

I cursed, watching as two guards slowly and carefully formed the noose. They completed the requisite loops and then turned to me.

The obese man took a step towards me, alongside the two guards who pushed me forward. The cheers grew louder as the noose swung gently into place, awaiting my neck.

But that wasn't going to happen because, before anyone could grab me, I let out a scream and began struggling against the bindings of my chains. The metal turned and dug severely into my flesh, but that would not deter me. Neither would the overwhelming force of the guards attempting to keep me still. The obese man took a step back in shock, and the screams of the crowd subsided as they watched the ongoing spectacle.

I screamed and struggled against the guards who fought to keep me in place. Not once did I stop because doing so would mean death, and that wasn't an option for me.

"Why is she so damn strong?!" One of the soldiers tried to twist my arms to keep me steady, but I only bucked and flailed my legs. "Stop it!"

"Control her!" I heard another voice, most likely the obese man's.

"I'm trying.” There were more grunts, followed by a rough hand on my back that instantly shoved me to the floor. The shackles around my wrists tightened, and a slap rang out across my face.

“f**k," I cursed.

This cannot be the end... I couldn't let this be the end. I tried to move but couldn’t.

I was still struggling when a voice cut through the commotion. It was deep, harsh, and dominating, and it seemed to have captured everyone's attention, mine included.

"What's going on?!”

Everyone froze and turned to stare, and while I didn’t at first, the hushed murmurs and whispers from the crowd made me look.

I saw two men dressed in all black standing in the center of the crowd, flanked by heavily armored guards on all sides.

My mouth dried up, not from fear but because of how menacing they looked. Their expressions were blank, with no sensations or emotions. Their shoulders were stiff and unyielding, and their eyes glimmered dangerously with cruelty that I felt in the heart of my being.

But that wasn't what terrified me. It was their face, and while disapproving, it was the most perfect I had ever seen. They were the most perfect men I'd ever seen — tall with broad shoulders, carved features, sculpted bodies, the same shade of brown hair, and hazel eyes.

Twins. Identical ones.

My eyes took in every detail of these traits, and simultaneously, a strange scent filled my nose. No, no, it couldn’t be. I gasped. But it was, and suddenly, one word rang out in my head – one word from a being I’d never heard before in my life.

Mates.