Chapter Text
Jacob has him in a cage frothing from the mouth long before he receives his rook. It’s amazing how quickly the world fades away when you’ve got nothing but hunger and anger to keep you company.
Rook wears the word ‘WRATH’ upon his sternum with an almost ironic amount of pride and he bears his teeth at anyone who walks past. Staci doesn’t look him in the eyes when throws food into the cage, never looks him in the eyes when Jacob does his rounds. He’s the epitome of the bottom of the totem pole, the subjugated of the pack.
Jacob’s teachings make Rook question why the other cop is being held prisoner, but maybe Joseph is trying to convert all of them instead of killing them. In his brief moments of lucidity, Rook wonders if the lot of them were divided up incorrectly. Would the Marshal have not been much more effective as one of Jacob’s wolves? Would Pratt’s tentative kindness not have been better suited to Bliss?
Hudson is a spitfire, she’d have fought regardless of where she had gone. The thought makes him smile briefly before that telltale curdling in his gut signals that he should be feeling guilty she’s still being kept prisoner.
“Cull the herd” becomes Rook’s least favourite phrase, while that tiny music box becomes an object he hates with every rational bone in his body.
The irrational bones are all terrified of its music and the vicious haze of death that he so freely leaps into as soon as he hears the song. Rook sees the writing on the wall, both literally and figuratively, pretty early in the brainwashing process. They’re priming him for a purpose. He’s their Trojan horse, the beast that will tear Eli and the Whitetails out of their dens and rip their throats out to decay in the sun. Every day he becomes more convinced, and every day the cold pit of fear grows in his stomach as he realizes that he is going to be a liability wherever he goes after this.
It’s just a song. Just a fucking song that could play anywhere and make Rook go feral.
If the Seeds aren’t going to kill him, they’re certainly working on removing any life he could have after getting Hope Valley under control.
Rook’s never been particularly religious. Was always one for helping folks first and judging them never. His parents never particularly understood his stance, but it made him a good neighbour and a devoted son, so who were they to complain.
That being said, the day Joseph visits him in the cage and tells him the story of his wife and daughter, Rook damn near reaches through the bars to chew the man’s tongue off. All he can see in his mind’s eye is a tiny baby girl, beautiful and already exhausted being brought into a world that was cold. Rook thinks of his niece and his sister, thinks about what kind of a person can kill a baby. He’s never enjoyed killing, but wiping Joseph off the face of the Earth is going to be a righteous pleasure.
As Joseph stands, clapping a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and telling him he’s done well, Rook manages to croak:
“Picked verses for all of you”
It makes the two Seed brothers focus back in on him, and Rook knows he looks a little mad when he grins at them both.
“How well do you know your Bible, Father? Finish it for me, Joseph”, he pauses and spits on the ground.
“Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness”, he sees the flair of recognition in Joseph’s eyes and the muted confusion in Jacob’s.
“For they will be filled”, the words are soft, but given that the compound is deadly silent Rook hears them just fine.
“When I get outa here, I’ll be starving for righteousness, Seed”, he’s losing his voice after so long without really using his vocal chords, but the effect is pleasingly dramatic.
Joseph stiffly jerks his head towards his brother and Jacob moves to the bars, damned music box in hand. In the morning there is blood and body parts in Rook's cage, and his hunger only grows.