Michael 1988
"Alpha Eddie," I greet formally, bowing my head in respect. "You wanted to see me?"
Rita squeezes my arm before going to Eddie's chair and sitting on the arm. It might seem like a casual gesture, but the fact that she could do that and no one bat an eye said how much power she had.
"Take a seat, Mike," Eddie offers me the chair close to Jr, and I see the point he's making with my father. They have my back.
Rita keeps her eyes on me, and I focus on her, so I don't have to look at the alpha. However, I can feel his energy radiating toward me, and Luthando wants to whine and whimper under the familiar blanket.
The part of me that's his son wants to run to him, but the rogue is wary. Why was he here? How had my father known I was living with this pack?
I kept in contact with my pack as much as I could. I wrote letters but sent them from a PO box address I kept. I called once a month when I knew my father was gone to talk to Angie and Gracie, and I sent her money for the pack, but I never let them know where I was living.
So, was it just a coincidence that my father was here? Or had he somehow found me?
For a moment, no one says anything. I don't know if they expected either of us to speak first, but for my part. I didn't know what to say to him.
What did my dad see when he looked at me? What did he expect to find?
I asked myself that question whenever my circumstances changed. When I lived on the streets, starving, fighting for a place in the homeless shelters, living off what I could scrounge up or steal. I remember thinking that this was the punishment my father imagined I deserved.
For betraying the pack, being the way I was, and choosing that destiny over the path set for me.
That kid was gone, and the man I was now wondering if my father was disappointed or proud.
Part of me wondered if it was just the fact I wouldn't marry Lana that angered him so much. The doubt that lived in my brain wanted to know if it was the fact I was bi.
Who was I kidding? I was primarily gay; if they had a word for it, I'd be that. I still enjoyed sleeping with girls, but I'd only gotten pickier about which ones.
Was he ashamed of me for that? Did I care anymore?
Yes, I hated myself for it because I no longer owed this man anything. He wasn't my alpha or my father. He'd disowned and cut ties with me, but I couldn't help wanting him to accept me.
Outside the pack, I kept my preferences to myself. Things were too unstable right now. I didn't understand it, but it was fucked up.
People were dying because of who they were attracted to, and I couldn't afford to get involved. No matter how much I wanted to openly do and say what I wanted.
"How were the seas this time?" Eddie asks as casually as he can.
"Good, we got lucky with the fish," I try to act like I always do.
"You enjoy being out there?" He asks, and I know he's doing this for my father's benefit. But, of course, Eddie already knew I loved my job. So he'd sit and tell me about his time on the boats when he was a kid, how if he wasn't alpha, he'd love to be back out there.
"It's the best place in the world," I tell them honestly. "Even in the storms."
Eddie chuckles. "A pup after my own heart. Many supernaturals look at us as werewolves and think we belong in the forests. They can't wrap their minds on the idea that we like the ocean."
"It's like anything else in the world, Alpha," I grin. "Stereotypes are a thing. Everyone assumes that what you are, matters more than who."
"That's very true," Rita gives my father a pointed look. "You have a gift for words, Michael. I've known that from the day Eddie brought you home."
My father doesn't say anything.
I risk glancing at him. He's in a suit, something I never could get used to. He always reminded me of the Godfather when he wore them. Somehow, it hid the predator within but exaggerated the intimidation factor.
The wolf in sheep's clothing.
My father looked powerful, confident, and unbreakable to anyone who didn't know him. Still, I did and saw that something had changed.
He didn't sit as straight as he once did, there were new lines of age on his face, and his aura, though still incredibly potent, felt somewhat diminished.
I knew that Eddie was leaving it to me how I wanted to handle this. My father was out of his territory and out of his depths. If I asked Eddie to send him away, he'd do it, and there was nothing my father could do to me or the pack.
Again, I had to ask myself why this pack was so good to me. Finally, Rita gives me an encouraging nod, and I know I have to break the small talk.
"Alpha Raymond," I say his name, and it feels weird to call him that and not dad. "How can I help you?"
Looking up at me, those eyes sharpening just like I remember, my father turns to face me, and I can't help feeling like I'm under a magnifying glass.
In the past, I might have cast my eyes down and shown him submission, but not anymore. Not for my pride but because we didn't have that relationship.
Sometimes I did resent him for what he'd done. When I'd been starving, sleeping out in the cold, half mad with loneliness. I cursed his name and wished I'd done something different that day.
Sometimes I'd come to hate my father, but not now, but I didn't know the man sitting beside me, and he didn't know me.
"Excuse me," My father gets up and walks out of the room.
Rita looks stunned, but Eddie shakes his head in disappointment.
I was pissed. My father couldn't even stand to look me in the eye for more than a few seconds.
"Mike," Jr gets up, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You alright, man?"
No, I wasn't.
Without a word, I get up and storm after my father. I wasn't leaving things like this, not this time. He came to me. He should've said something.
"Hey Mike," Clarrisa, one of Eddie's daughters, smiles at me, but that look falls when she sees how angry I am. "Mike?"
I don't answer her, bolting down the stairs to the front door, following my father's scent.
"Mike!" I hear my name called from behind me, but I don't answer or stop. It isn't just me who's angry. It's Luthando as well.
All the sadness, humiliation, and loneliness boiling to the surface. He was going to look me in the eye, and he was going to tell me why he was here.
My father owed me that much, at least.
Raymond was halfway down the driveway when I caught up to him. I was surprised he was alone. Typically an alpha brought at least a few warriors, and I knew Eddie wouldn't have made him leave them behind.
"Don't you dare run from me!" I yell, my voice deeper as Luthando takes over a little more. "Don't you fucking walk away!"
Forcing my father to turn around, A small part of me was shocked at how easy it was to move him. I'd never had the power to budge him before.
I expected anger from him or at least agitation. I Wasn't prepared to see sadness or regret on his face.
This couldn't be Raymond Branker. My father never showed weakness.
It isn't enough to dull my anger.
"Why come here?" I demand. "I know you're here for me. You wouldn't come so far for any other reason! Why? Why make the trip and then take off? Am I that much of a disappointment? Were you hoping that I'd be a body you had to come identify? Is that it? Did I ruin your plans of keeping me dead in your memory?"
It's like I've punched him.
"Guess what! I didn't die!" I scream. "I fought, the fucking thing you taught me to do. So if you're angry at me for surviving, you only have yourself to blame for it!"
My father grabs me by the bicep and pulls me forward. I thought he was trying to throw me, but instead, he hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe.
Raymond could've insulted, attacked, or shoved me away, and I would've expected it, but not this.
When he starts to sob, I'm left standing there, unable to do anything but hold him up, like he's going to fall.
"Dad?" I whisper anxiously.
And that only makes him sob harder, not caring that werewolves from an unknown pack are staring, not caring that he was showing me weakness.
My father cried like he was at my funeral.