THE REBELLION LUNA

Chapter 6

The Silence Begins

I woke up face down on the bed. The pain had forced me awake. What was that feeling? The sharp pain, and then… the collar? I lifted my head, frowning as my fingers brushed against the lock at the back of my neck. It was still there. I yanked at it, but the collar didn’t budge, and the frustration was almost overwhelming.

But before I could react further, I felt a gentle hand cover mine. My eyes darted to the side, and I saw one of the omegas, her face creased in worry as she carefully tended to the raw skin on my back. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could speak, she pressed a finger to her lips, a look of panic flashing across her face as she darted a glance at the door.

The silent punishment. I’d forgotten about that.

I smiled softly, a watery smile, nodding in acknowledgment as she carefully applied a warm sponge to my skin. My wolf had been at work while I slept, the pain in my back already healing more quickly than expected. I could feel her presence, deep within me, her energy pulsing in the background. How I loved her. I sent a silent thank you to her for the strength she had lent me, and for the rest she must have been getting while I lay there.

The omega continued working without a word, but her face became more and more puzzled as the blood and mud were slowly cleaned away. It wasn’t just the physical healing that seemed unusual to her—it was the rate at which it was happening. My healing wasn’t like a regular werewolf’s.

I remembered the surprised looks I’d received at breakfast this morning—women staring at me, confused and unsure. It had slipped my mind until now, but maybe, just maybe, my wolf wasn’t like theirs. It deserved more attention. It deserved more thought. And here, in this silence, I had time to think.

Though I didn’t agree with Grandfather’s reasoning for the punishment, a small part of me saw it for what it was—a blessing in disguise. It would give me the time I needed to observe, to understand what I was truly up against, and to figure out if there was any chance I could fit in with this pack. Or if there was even a possibility of leaving it behind entirely.

I thought of my parents. They weren’t the only ones who had chosen to leave the pack. Maybe I could find someone who shared their reasons for leaving—a former rogue who understood the struggle. Maybe I could be 'signed over' to another male. The thought was bitter, and the phrase ‘signed over’ burned like acid in my brain, but a flicker of hope sparked deep inside. Maybe this could lead to my freedom.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the thought. It felt both absurd and liberating.

The omega looked up at me, likely wondering why I was smiling, and I quickly mouthed a soft “thank you” to her. She flushed red, her eyes darting back to the door to make sure no one saw her break the rules. I couldn’t help but admire her bravery.

She continued her work, finishing up and preparing to leave, but before she did, I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed her hand as she set the sponge down, causing her to gasp lightly and pull back in alarm. I realized I’d broken the rule of no communication, and I didn’t want her to get in trouble for my mistake.

I mouthed a quick question, “What is your name?”

Her eyes widened in fear, and she shook her head, clearly not wanting to risk anything. But I didn’t want to keep calling her ‘the omega’ in my mind, so I persisted. With a small frown, she took out a small pocketbook from her pocket. She opened it, and on the front, she had written in neat handwriting: Sophie.

I smiled softly, muttering her name under my breath. Sophie. It was the first time I had thought of her as more than just a nameless servant, and somehow that made her seem more human. She quickly glanced around the room, then rushed to finish applying balm to my back, signaling frantically that I should put on the shirt she’d brought me.

She had broken the rules by giving me the balm, and I could feel the gratitude well up inside me. I did as she asked, slipping the shirt on as quickly as I could, then leaned back on the bed, still not wanting to get her in trouble.

She gave me a shy smile and hurried out of the room, but not before leaving something behind: her pocketbook. My first instinct was to leave it alone, but curiosity got the better of me. I reached for it, my fingers gently brushing against the worn leather.

I knew it wasn’t right to invade her privacy, but I couldn’t help it. I flipped open the pocketbook, and the first thing I noticed were the dog-eared corners and folded pages. The writing inside was crude, sloppily done, but it was hers. It was all hers. I flipped through a few pages and found a list of chores, all marked off with big, bold ticks. My heart sank a little as I read through the pages, seeing the words she had written about herself—how stupid she was, how useless.

I felt anger rise within me. No one should feel that way. Nobody should be made to believe they were worthless. I knew this pack could be cruel, but seeing it in her words… it made me furious.

I skimmed to the most recent page and found it empty. Taking a pencil from the bedside table, I quickly wrote a note.

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Dearest Sophie,

You are kind. You are brave. You are strong. I am thankful for you. I am glad you are here. I look forward to knowing you more.

Your Friend.

---

I left the message short and clear, hoping she wouldn’t have any trouble reading it. I didn’t want anyone to find it and use it against her, so I made sure it wasn’t signed with my name. It wasn’t even my handwriting.

I slid the notebook under some papers in the drawer, making sure it was hidden, and promised myself I would return it as soon as I had the chance.

Exhausted from the emotional weight of the day, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

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When I woke, the sky outside was dim, either dawn or dusk, I couldn’t tell. I stretched and noticed that my back had healed even more—too quickly for it to have been just one day. My wolf had done her work, and I could feel her deep within me, pleased with our progress.

I sent her my thanks, and she responded with a gentle snort, as if dismissing the idea that I needed to express anything. She was content with her work.

I checked the mirror and surveyed my back. The bruising had faded, leaving only faint, pink lines where my skin had split. It was still tender, but the worst of it was over.

I moved to the window and opened it, breathing in the cool scent of the morning dew. It was calming.

What would I be doing right now if my life hadn’t been turned upside down?

I would probably still be asleep, I thought sadly. My mother would be cooking breakfast, and my father would be reading the paper to her. I’d help my mother in the kitchen, as I always did. Cooking was my passion. I had attended culinary school, hoping one day to work in a real restaurant, but all my applications had gone unanswered. I had no idea if they even made it to the right hands.

But that was before Grandfather took me from my father’s funeral. Before he intervened because of my mother’s illness. He had been informed by a doctor who wasn’t even part of the pack, but who had been forced to report any suspicions of a female being left alone. The doctor had guessed what was happening and reached out to Grandfather.

And Grandfather had come.