Chapter 83

Violet

I bit my lip, listening to the conversation rather than joining Theodore again. It was a beautifully worded question and the silence that followed the question spoke volumes. Victor stammered, unable to answer, but a reporter had a response.

"Are you suggesting that all rogues should be killed instead?"

"Of course not," Theodore said. "I am asking people to think."

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said, his tone exasperated. “I’m stating a fact: people don't think. Once, the term rogue meant something. It was the mark of a time in our history where we weren't unified, where we weren't even a real society. Rogues were members of the pack who had done something so heinous that the could no longer be part of a pack. They were marked as traitors and exiled. But it's been centuries since rogues only meant that. Centuries of alphas using the term rogue and the threat of exile to get their way, maintain control, and cover up the terrible things that have been done within packs. It's been used selfishly and foolishly. "

Victor sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Are you questioning the wisdom of our forefathers?”

"I'm not so arrogant to say that the men I descend from knew what the fuck they were doing." The whole group gasped. “There was no wisdom in what they did. It was lazy. Convenient. And short-sighted, but they could afford to be all of those things. There were less people to manage, less outside influences to navigate. We, here and now, cannot afford to be any of those things.”

I smiled, proud and in awe at how different this moment felt. Before we'd gotten married, before we'd met, Theodore had never been in the public eye long enough to even talk to a reporter, and here he was-- turning a media attack into a press conference for his cause.

I glanced over at Victor's wife who was still nearby, simply watching from afar. Her eyes were glossy and soft. I could tell she was listening to Theodore's words and thinking about her future. There was a bitterness in her expression. She turned and caught my eye for a moment. I thought maybe she'd approach again, but her expression hardened. More bitter and more jealous than before. She turned away sharply and headed down the corridor to a café. I continued to listen.

"Believe what you want about me, but Shelter isn't about me. Creating a system to manage people outside of packs from exiles, runaways, all the way to actual rogues is about creating a fairer, more open society. A safer society in some ways. A more accountable one.”

Victor scoffed, shaking his head. “Safe? Accountable? You mean to tell me you think these wolves—these rogues—are capable of contributing to a better society?”

“Well, at the least if they're contained, they can't roam free as terrorists for hire. It's been time for us to address the root of the problem and take responsibility for the problems we've created, leveraged, and exacerbated for years. And no one can berate me into believing any different."

The room stilled. I took the moment to join him again, slipping my arm around his. Victor glanced at me, then looked around, clearly searching for his wife.

"She went to the café," I said, smiling, enjoying the flush of embarrassment on his face.

"What did I miss, dear?" I asked, twining out hands together.

Theo worked his jaw. Then, he dropped his gaze to my mouth.

"… you weren't wearing that."

I laughed. "I'm pretty sure I didn’t miss when I put lipstick on, love. Sounded like you were talking about the containment section of Shelter?"

He nodded. "Partially. Yes."

I looked back at Victor. He looked like a drowning man who refused to believe the sea was real. The more he looked between us, the more irritated he seemed to get. It was hilarious, but I knew, well enough that he was the kind of man who couldn't stand to have something that someone else had, especially if it was something that would make him look better.

His wife of how many ever years being missing when I and Theo, newlyweds, were together, showing a united front probably burned in ways he couldn't even explain.

Theodore turned back to him. "We need to change the standards of how we deal with criminals. Yes, it will require effort. Patience. And accountability—but we owe it to ourselves and our future to do it. If you think that we would something far more difficult than shoving the problem out the door and pretending it doesn’t exist.”

“And so you're suggesting that we let murderers and thieves live among us?”

Theodore shook his head. “I’m suggesting that we stop pretending exiling them makes us safe. That we acknowledge the role we play in creating the monsters we claim to fear and hate. We have to take responsibility for the mess we've created."

I noticed a few others in the room exchanging glances, murmuring to one another. Good. People were listening. Maybe this would only feed the Uncrowned King title, but there was nothing that Theodore could do that wouldn't really.

"Our system--"

"Is outdated and impractical for our society. More over it's been corrupted by people like you --"

"You--"

"Who don't want to hold anyone accountable for the horrors they've committed nor deal with their victims." He snarled. "At this point, anyone without enough clout in a pack, with something coveted by someone with more clout, or anyone under an indiscriminate tyrant could become a rogue. The laws allow for an alpha to cast anyone out for any reason."

A few quiet murmurs rippled through the crowd. Someone's head was bowed, fact-checking.

"Where did you --"

"Rights and Privileges of an Alpha, Section 10, Paragraph 4," Theodore rattled off. "Anyone and everyone a alpha simply wishes to expel from a pack can be kicked out for no reason, with or without official transfer. Disobedience. Refusal. Rejection. Rivalry. Basic disagreements-- the laws provide no limitations. And in packs that have staunchly traditional values and no real oversight, that leave children and women at the mercy of anyone bigger, stronger, or more connected than them-- inside and outside their family."

One of the reporters stepped forward. "You sound like you know someone in particular who has been victimized by this. Would you care to share their story?"

Theodore set his jaw. My heartached as I thought that it was highly likely that he was thinking of his mother.

Then, he nodded. "I know plenty of men and women who have been exiled for all sorts of reasons. A sixteen year old girl, assaulted by an alpha's knight, impregnated. A widow of two years who had been married for ten years and was made a widow because her alpha wanted her as a mistress. She ran and was accused of murdering her husband, labeled rogue by the man who killed her husband." People gasped. "The tornados that hit the south and decimated those packs orphaned and abandoned anyone too old or too weak or unnecessary when it disbanded and was annexed by other territories. All of these people are rogues: wolves without packs, and not a single one of them deserved that label. They should have been taken care of, protected. Someone should have given them a chance at justice. And people like him want to say they don't deserve for someone in power to do something about it."

Victor stammed. "You're--"

He turned on Victor as his Victor came back carrying a cup in her hand, looking confused as to why we were all still here. He yanked her to his side, but looked not happier for it.

“And what about you?” Theodore continued, his tone darkening. “What happens if you fall out of favor with the right person?"

"I'm an alpha," he hissed.

Theodore smirked. "Surrounded by alphas with more military, more territory, more clout, and more means to cover up your disappearance."

He paled.

Theodore looked around. "The next rogue could be anyone in this room given the right circumstances. That fear of losing everything, of being branded and discarded has shaped the way alphas in this country have run their territories for centuries. It’s shaped our traditions, our laws, and our expectations. And not for the better.”

The silence was deafening. Victor's face was burning red, but his wife looked terrified, her eyes cast to the ground. Victor struggled to form a response, but Theodore cut him off.

“So tell me, Victor, what did that sixteen year old do to deserve being cast out? Does she deserve to die alone, scared, while her attacker continues to live his life, likely creating more victims? Does the widow deserve to never be able to visit her husband's grave? Do those kids deserve to have to struggle to survive? Would you?”

That did it. Victor turned and yanked his wife after him, practically dragging her through the crowd.

"We’re done here,” he muttered, his voice shaking slightly. "Get out of my way!"