Chapter 2 Two

"My precious!" I can hear my father calling after me, but I don't wait. I don't want to. I rip my butterfly mask off. This is all his fault. If only he had just provided the birthday gift I asked for, then all would've been well. I never asked for this. "Moonbeam!" "Don't call me that!" The words tear from within me as I come to a pause in the foyer, chest rising and falling like a rabid dog. "This is all your fault!" He exhales. "They all think of me as some insignificant matter that can never be their alpha, and we both know they're right, so why did you have to force me into this?" A single tear slips from my cheek, then the rest follow before I can stop them. "I'm not even meant to be here." "I'm an abomination." My voice lowers. "Not even a wolf or your real daughter." "You are my daughter!" His voice is stern, almost like a caution. "But not a wolf, and I'll never be." "You have your mother's blood in you; she was a great wolf." "A stupid one who laid with a human," I whisper. "Moonbeam..." "Don't call me that!" I yell. The pet name used to be my favourite, coined from what my father says is the most precious season of the year, one where young wolves at the age of sixteen get to stand under the moon, howl for the first time, and transform into their wolf form. I'd never been more disappointed in my entire life than that night. I should never have had expectations. "I don't know why you think of yourself as less when you're more than capable." He speaks softly. "You held your ground out there and made them see a true alpha." "You'll be a great ruler." "I cannot!" I sniffle. "And I don't care to be an alpha to people who would constantly remind me of how I can never be what they are." "Moon..." I glare, causing him to swallow his word. "Look, here." He walks closer until his one hand is on my shoulder and the other on my hair, caressing. "There's good and fierce in you, just the right balance to be a great alpha." He smiles. "You're my daughter, and you'll do well." With that, he pulls me into a hug, letting my tear-stained makeup plaster onto his expensive grey suit. "Let your maid take care of your makeup; get back in there and show them the stuff you're made of." He laughs softly. "My precious moonbeam crybaby." I pull away, watching his laugh deepen. "You're such a bully, no different from them." He lifts his hands in the air. "Fine, fine, arrest me, but you won't last a day without barging into my chambers to ask what colour of dress suits you best." He is right. I can't live without him. I may not be related to him by blood, but he's been the only father I've ever known and ever want to know. "Alpha!" My father's beta rushes into the foyer, face stern. I don't think I've ever caught him in a smile-he used to be my nightmare when I was younger. I watch him lean closer to whisper some words to my father, who nods in response. "Go enjoy your masquerade; I have some duties to attend to." He walks away with his beta, whose heavy steps shake the ground. I return to my chambers, waiting patiently for Madeline to re-do my makeup. She was sent for more than ten minutes ago but is still nowhere to be found. I can't say I blame her. I would hate to be a maid to someone like me, too-crying off her hours-long effort of makeup-but I don't dare take my mask off. Can't send her running off before she's standing next to me. "My lady!" The door barges open to Madeline, her eyes hollow with terror. Breath ragged like a woman chased by rogues. Behind her, the sound of chaos shakes the walls of the estate. Her lips part with no audible sounds forming, and finally... "The alpha..." The words fall weakly from her lips, but I don't wait to hear the rest of it. I bolt. Running as fast as my legs can carry me toward his chambers, passing by the multitudes of servants screaming at the top of their lungs with their legs scrambling for safety. The once-vibrant sky filled with fireworks turns crimson, flames engulfing everything in their path. An attack. Father! "I can't sell the pack to you!" A scream ruptures through the atmosphere. Loud and ghastly. I pause right behind the secret passage with my palm pressed to my mouth, my breath falling in spurts. My father's voice, trembling with dread. "It's not mine to give; it belongs to her." "Then where is she?" A strange voice replies, heavy and suffocating. Radiating an immense power. Nothing I've ever witnessed. "This is between us, please..." "Being stubborn will cost you everything, Magnus Valebrook." The voice again, this time harsher than before. Almost like the devil himself is speaking. "Let it go." A swelling knot forms in my chest, suffocating. The hairs on my skin rise. "I can't..." Crash! My wince is followed by a sickening grunt. My father's voice-full of pain. "Run!" "Run, now!" A voice echoes in my head, unfamiliar, commanding. I stumble back from the door, my heart racing, confusion swarming in my mind. My father's voice rises again, filled with anguish. "I need to give the pack to my daughter. It belongs to her mother." Then the voice, mocking, cruel: "Give your daughter to me. She'll make a good addition to my tramps. It'll be easier to acquire the pack that way, don't you think?" "No, please, she's... she's just eighteen for Goddess's sake!" My father's voice cracks. I have never seen him like this-not even when my mother, the Luna, passed away. Who are these people? Through the passage, I can see a body lying lifelessly on the cold floor. The heavy boots bring back the memory of a man with heavy footsteps. My father's beta. My chest tightens, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs as terror roots me in place. "Please, run!" The voice returns, urgent, commanding. "Then you should've fucking obeyed," another voice sneers, younger, filled with impatience. "You old prick!" "You have a son too, for Goddess's sake, Quill!" my father cries. "Why are you doing this..." Thud! A louder sound echoes through the walls. Heavy. My father's voice falls, replaced by the grunts of a man. "Keep me out of your fucking mouth!" the younger voice grunts, his words followed by another heavy thud. My body freezes. My breath catches in my throat. The world seems to stop. Then, a low cackle. A gurgling sound...a sound of death. "Dad?" The word escapes me, broken, a whisper of disbelief. A body hits the cold floor, shattering the screams of the wolves outside. "Dad!" I cry, unable to stop myself. My legs move before my mind can catch up, and I rush into his chamber, falling to my knees beside him. The room is dark, the only light blazing from the fire outside. The smoke slips through the windows as I reach for my father's form with hazy vision. "Oh, the daughter is here," a voice sneers, cutting through the haze of my panic. Tears streak into my mouth as I cough. I look up to see a man standing over me, his expression cold, his son by his side, the metal mask of a wolf covering his face. My chest tightens. My father... He can't be gone. Not like this. Not now. My father is used to joking around, so what would become of him if he didn't scare the living hell out of me on my birthday? This has to be a joke; it has to be one of his stupid jokes! The fire crackles from outside his chambers. "You've gotten me, Dad," I whisper through a sniffle, my hand shaking as I tap his body. "Let's continue the party... Come on, you can stop now." But there is no response. I repeat the words, louder this time, desperation creeping into my voice. "Dad. This isn't funny anymore; we have to leave before the fire reaches us!" Still, nothing. "Daddy!" I shout, my voice breaking as reality hits like a sledgehammer. The smoke chokes me as I grab my dad, unable to let go. The coldness of his form seeps into me, and with it, the hollow truth-he is gone. The man above me laughs, his voice dripping with disdain. "Weak. Worthless. It doesn't even resemble a wolf." It. I grit my teeth, my fury rising as my hands tremble, reaching for the hairpin in my hair. I hurl it at him, but before it can strike, the younger boy lunges, blocking it with his palm. The sharp pin pierces through his flesh, but he doesn't relent. With everything in me, I try to shove it deeper, but he stands there, still. His brown eyes are watching me through the wolf mask, evil and void. Unyielding. And neither am I. His wretched blood trickles down his arm, dropping right on my father's body. "Go away, you monster!" I yell at the top of my lungs, wrenching the pin free to pierce his dark heart, but he catches my arm before I can lunge. My skull crashes into the cold tile, and the world spins violently. "What a weak pest," he sneers. I manage to lift my head just enough to see his masked face. Blood-red lips curl into a sneer as he raises a heavy blood-stained vase over me-the young boy who killed my father. "That's enough!" The older man raises a finger, and the boy immediately lowers the vase. I lift my head to see the man pressing softly against his temples. "I shouldn't involve myself in things like this." He sighs through his frowning, unruly eyebrows. "I'm too old for this shit!" "You should return to the capital, Father, and I'll take care of it," the younger boy speaks. "Are you trying to send me away?" "No, Father!" "Then take care of this like I would," he growls. "Prove to me that you're my son." "Yes, Father." The boy's answer is sharp. A low laugh escapes his lips as I watch the old man walk toward the door, through the blazing fire. He leaves his son behind, who watches me through the wolf mask like a hungry predator. Just two steps forward, and I can feel the coldness of the shoes that belong to the monster who killed my father. "You should never have stressed my father," he growls, his jaw tightening as he reaches for his pants. A black serpent dangles from his wrist. "This is all your fault." Weakened on the bloody ground, I helplessly watch as his intentions become clear, looming over me while I clutch my father's body, trembling with fear. If only I weren't an abomination, then I would've done something to save my father and maybe save myself. But rather, I lie on the cold floor, unmoving. Coughing. My muscles aren't cooperating, and my head spins aggressively. Weak. Through my hazy vision, I can see him lean in. His brown eyes. The last pair my father saw before his death. Quill. Oh Goddess, I might be an abomination unto you, but I plead for one last chance. A chance to bring this boy to his knees and watch him fade into ash. Please, Goddess. "You should never have stressed my father!" And with those words, my world turns dark.