ALPHA RAY HOOK
Year 2006
(Winter, The Howling Five Kingdom)
It's snowing.
His mother's white tunic is smeared, the fabric slashed, and the stones are now carving his flesh. His father's handsome dark chocolate hair is now a white pom-pom. He looks more like a clown than Howling Five's youngest prince, bringing lots of joy and laughter as he drags through the cold mud.
If Ray was more wolf less human, he wouldn't feel this much pain and humiliation.
But Ray isn't—not even close to a half-blood.
That's why they are doing this to him. That's why they hate him.
He's getting motion sickness.
He really shouldn't fuss over it—they nicknamed him just for that. But the reverse motion is nauseating, the bumps on the ground are hammering his skull.
Of all the amazing traits his father has, why in deity's name did Ray get the electrifying blue eyes and long legs? What can they even do—electrocute Mozzo and his stupid mutt-lings?
Kick them? Ha! His father's kicks could break a few bones and send a permanent warning. But Ray's? The only thing his mosquito kicks can hurt is Mozzo's mood and his own misery.
Mozzo's pranks. A chill of fear runs up Ray's spine. They've become…deadly.
Seven days ago, just before the first ray, everyone was still asleep. Mozzo and the muttlings grabbed Ray out of his bed and shoved him into one of the cages used for pigeons. Ray may be around the age of a six year old human child, but he's taller than most cubs his age. He was like a contorted rag doll in there.
But they didn't leave Ray in the middle of the marketplace as a spectacle for the were-folks, who hate him just as much. Instead, they brought him to Lake Namesyx then flung him right in the middle of it—the deepest parts.
If Rex wasn't in the nearby forest, Ray would've drowned, just as their grandfather did.
Rex was wrong about Mozzo and Ray. Ray isn't sensitive, and Mozzo isn't going through a phase. The timing was specifically chosen so that Ray couldn't get help.
Is that where they're taking him? But the lake isn't that far, they should be reaching anytime soon, shouldn't they? Maybe, it's the mountain range this time.
Eyes shut tight, Ray carefully blows the dirt from his lips. Then, he musters the courage to squeeze out a tiny plea. "C–Come on guys, cut it out."
"C-c-come on g-g-guys, c–c–cut it o–o–out," squeals Mozzo, the leader, poking fun at Ray's incredible lack of courage.
The boy pulling him by the collar laughs. "That's some talent, Flamingo!"
There it is. And it never fails to eat Ray from the inside.
He really shouldn't have been born. His birth is like a traitorous dagger plunged into the heart of the Goddess, killing her, and his pack, as well as the entire kingdom, whom he is affiliated with, had fallen into the darkest plague of werewolf history. And they're still in it.
No wonder they despise him.
Maybe the Goddess has broken their sledge and they're using him as one. Ray proceeds to mentally prepare himself so he can embrace his fate when the time comes.
"The Queen made this, right, Flamingo?"
That isn't the permission to open his mouth again so Ray clamps his mouth tight when another voice answers, "For his birthday— he wears it all the time."
"Aw… my bad. Let me clean it for you, Alpha Ray." Another spit slaps on Ray's tunic then more dirt drops on the same spot before a foot steps in to rub everything in— Ray shakes painfully when Mozzo snorted.
"Alpha my ass!" Another strong toe slams into Ray's shin.
The young prince squirms in agony, tears finally bursting through his shut eyes.
"As long as she's fuckable, any bitch can be the Silver Ring Luna— the Queen of the Howling Five Kingdom." Mozzo grins satisfyingly at the sniffling prince, whose cheek had turned to hide his displeasure.
"But she's the Alpha King's mate, Moz," a whisper corrected. "And she's a born healer."
"Shut up, Loris!"
Loris' painful yell electrocutes Ray with a new fear.
Why can't they leave him alone! What more do they want from him? He didn't ask to be born— he didn't ask to be born a werewolf!
The dragging stops.
Terrified, Ray rushes to apologise when he's yanked off the cold, hard ground then slammed onto a cold, hard tree trunk. Before he reacts to the huge blow on his spine, disappointment stakes his heart.
They are in the human world.
A python squeeze came around Ray, from his knees up to his shoulders, and then everything fell into place: he's strapped to the tree like a kebab to be eaten then buried by the incoming snowstorm— and he's completely silenced from any help.
Death.
******
KATE ARES
Year 2002
(Summer, The U.R.T, Aresmore Estate)
"Daddy?"
The ten year old heiress had a nightmare. In it, daddy and mummy were fighting, throwing pots and pans at each other, screaming fiercely. It was worrying.
Kate didn't have to worry—daddy and mummy have never fought before. And it was just a dream.
"Mummy?"
She sniffed. Her forehead felt cold and damp, but her back was warmer than usual. She needed to see them, to make sure that they're okay.
Covers thrown aside, Kate got off her princess bed, padded across the plush carpet to the door. Then, she was in the hallway. It was dark and empty.
Everyone's asleep. But Kate grew up in this enormous house her parents' guests call 'mansion'; she knows her way around even in the dark.
Another sniff and another wipe of the tears with her pink, satin sleeve, Kate turned right—her parents' bedrooms are just around the corner, at the end of this hallway.
The air shifted.
Kate swivelled around. Indeed, someone was there.
"Mummy!" Her mouth curled up in relief. She stepped forward, arms opened, ready for a hug—.
SMACK!
Kate stumbled backwards, shock slamming her mind. The pressure of pain rang in her ears, which terrified her, so she frantically shook her head to rid them.
Then, in a tiny voice, she checked. "M-Mummy?"
Mummy would never hit her sweetie pie. But this is Mummy. She isn't smiling like she always does, but she's still as serene as usual.
"You stupid girl," she breathed. "You left the toaster on, didn't you?"
"To–toaster?" Her mind rummaged furiously.
"You killed your father!" Mummy's hand raised and slammed on the same cheek.
Kate dropped to the marble floor, tears spilling from her eyes. Her cheek stung with ferocious heat so she protected it with her hand. "B-But I didn't use it." She sniffed.
She had pancakes this morning—Daddy made them, of course—and then a sandwich in school. Then, Daddy made roast beef for dinner, which Mummy had too, and she said it was the best thing she's ever had—.
Mummy inhaled in horror. "You killed your own father and now you're denying it?"
"But I didn't do it!" Kate grabbed Mummy's left wrist. "Mummy, please, where's Daddy? He's hiding, isn't he?"
Mummy is still as serene as always.
"You did kill Daddy, Kate. You left the toaster on, you set the house on fire, and you killed him. You killed my husband, Kate. You killed him. You're a psychopath."
And then behind the towering figure of her mother, the twelve year old heiress saw it— the flames that had murdered her beloved father.
"I–I killed D-Daddy…?"
That can't be true. She must be still in the nightmare.
Wake up, Kate… wake up. Please, WAKE UP!