"Arrogant, self-absorbed jerk, son of a fucking bitch!, so full of himself!"
"Who the hell do these men think they are?"
I muttered under my breath, my fingers curling tightly around the steering wheel. I could still feel the heat of his condescending smirk, his casual dismissal of my anger. He was just like Michael, my insufferable stepbrother, who seemed to think he was God's gift to the world.
I had had enough of alpha males, their inflated egos, their belief that they could control and manipulate everyone around them. It was exhausting, infuriating, and I was done with it. As I drove away from the parking lot, my mind drifted back to simpler times, to a man who had shown me a different kind of strength.
Five years ago, I was a different person. At twenty years old, I was just another college student, eager to learn, excited to explore the world. But the highlight of my days wasn't the classes or the parties. It was the moments I spent with my father.
"Kelsey,"
Dad would say, his voice warm with affection,
"farming isn't just about growing crops or raising livestock. It's about understanding the land, respecting it, nurturing it. It's about hard work and patience."
I cherished those moments, the quiet mornings spent milking the cows, the afternoons tending to the crops, the evenings watching the sunset over the fields. My father's words echoed in my mind, a soothing lullaby that drowned out the chaos of the world.
But then, everything changed. I can still remember the knock on the door, the solemn faces of the men from our town, their hats clutched in their hands. My heart had dropped to my stomach as they delivered the news. My father, the brave and kind-hearted man I had loved so dearly, had been killed by a werewolf he had been hunting.
It was the irony of it all that stung the most. My family, a long line of hunters, had been brought to its knees by the very creature we had been trained to kill. The farm, once filled with life and laughter, had become a solemn reminder of what we had lost. And I, once a carefree college student, had been thrust into a world of pain and vengeance.
As I pulled up to our farmhouse, the memories washed over me like a tidal wave. I could almost see my father standing there, a soft smile on his face, his eyes filled with love and pride. But all that was left now were echoes of laughter and hushed whispers of 'what could have been'.
I got out of the car, the cool autumn breeze tugging at my hair. I could still taste the bitterness of the encounter at the parking lot. The arrogance of that man, his disregard for the rules, it all reminded me of the injustice my father had faced.
"Dad,"
I whispered, my voice barely audible,
"I promise, I won't let them win. Not the werewolves, not the arrogant men who think they can walk over everyone. I'll fight, just like you did."
As the sun set, casting long shadows over the farm, I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me. My father may be gone, but his spirit lived on within me. And with that spirit, I would continue to fight, to make the world a fairer place, one arrogant jerk at a time.
"Sofia!"
I exclaimed as my little half-sister barreled into me, her arms wrapping around my waist in a tight hug. "I've missed you."
Sofia pulled back, her bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've missed you too, Kels! You won't believe what happened at school today!"
I laughed, ruffling her blonde curls.
"What is it, Sof?"
As we walked arm in arm towards the house, Sofia regaled me with tales of her school life, her voice bubbling with energy. Despite the ten-year age gap, Sofia and I had always been close. She was sweet, innocent, a ray of sunshine in our often dark world. She was the one person who could make me smile even on my darkest days.
"Did you get my dress?"
Sofia asked suddenly, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"And are you going to bring a date to the ball?"
I groaned at the mention of the ball. Our mother and Michael had been insisting that I bring a date this year.
"I got your dress, Sof, but as for the date..."
Before I could finish my sentence, a familiar voice interrupted us.
"Still can't find anyone desperate enough to go with you, Kels?"
Michael. My insufferable, arrogant stepbrother. He was leaning against the porch railing, a smug grin on his face.
"Michael,"
I warned, trying to hide my smile. He had always had a knack for getting under my skin.
In response, he merely raised an eyebrow, challenging me.
"How about a round of arm wrestling? If you win, I'll stop teasing you about the ball."
We had always been competitive, ever since we were children. But beneath the teasing and the occasional arguments, there was a bond of mutual respect and love. Despite his arrogance, I knew that Michael would do anything to protect our family.
"Deal!"
I said, rolling up my sleeves.
We spent the next few minutes in a fierce battle of strength, Sofia cheering us on from the sidelines. Even though Michael won, as he usually did, he ruffled my hair affectionately before heading off to oversee the farm work.
As I watched him walk away, I felt a surge of gratitude. Our family had been through a lot, but we had each other. And as long as we stuck together, we could face anything.
Just as I was about to head inside, Sofia tugged on my sleeve, her face suddenly pale.
"Kelsey," she whispered, her voice trembling,
"Look."
I followed her gaze and my breath hitched. There, in the distant, was a figure. It was too far to make out clearly, but the sight sent a shiver down my spine. It was a man, and he was watching us. And in his hand, glinting ominously in the setting sun, was a silver dagger – the unmistakable weapon of a werewolf hunter.
The sight of the stranger with the silver dagger sent a chill racing down my spine. Instinctively, I stepped in front of Sofia, shielding her with my body. "Go inside, Sof," I murmured, my eyes never leaving the ominous figure.
"But, Kels–"
she began to protest, but I cut her off.
"Now, Sofia,"
I commanded, my voice firm. The young girl hesitated for a moment, then with a frightened nod, she darted towards the house.
I watched as the front door closed behind her before turning my full attention back to the figure. He hadn't moved, but the feeling of being watched hadn't subsided.
The wind whipped my hair around my face as I took a step forward. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the one word that had been etched into my mind since childhood: danger.
"Who are you?"
I called out, my voice echoing in the silence. The figure didn't respond. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the landscape and making it difficult to make out his features.
Suddenly, the man moved. It was a simple shift, a step back into the shadows, but it was enough to ignite the panic in my chest. The last ray of the setting sun glinted off the silver dagger one last time before the man disappeared entirely.
I was left standing in the silence, my heart pounding, the taste of fear sharp on my tongue. The world around me seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.
And then, from the direction of the woods, came a low, guttural growl. The sound echoed around me, seeming to come from every direction at once. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a primal part of me recognizing the sound for what it was.
A warning.
A threat.
A promise.
There was a werewolf in our midst.