Quietly sneaking up the side of the house, I stop at my sister’s bedroom window. Looking in, I see her
asleep in her bed. I tap on the window before I see movement; she flicks her lamp on, squinting around
the room before looking at the window. Waving at her, my sister’s mouth opens, and she becomes
immediately alert before she rushes over. Ava throws her window open, and I pass her my bag, which
she places on the floor before taking Valarian from me, so I can climb through the window.
“Sis!” She cries, hugging me. I inhale her scent, tears flowing down my cheeks, before pulling back to
look at her. She clutched her mouth before a sob escaped her.
“He’s beautiful,” she chokes out. I gently closed the window, and she hugged Valarian close, smelling
his tiny head. I was soaked, my hair dripping from the rain.
“Gosh, I have missed you. Dad wouldn’t let me look for you; he has me on a tight leash,” she says,
tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Grab some dry clothes, take whatever you want,” she whispers while pointing at her dresser, and I
rummage through her drawers. I find some warm clothes trying to be quiet, so I don’t wake my parents
down the hall. Putting on some of her pajamas and had to roll the pants to hold them up. My sister
watches me before she breaks down again.
“You’re so skinny,” she sobs, sitting on her bed and looking at my body. She was right. You could see
most of my ribs, my hip bones jutting out, I had lost so much weight, and this is the smallest I have ever
“I’m fine, Ava. I’m okay,” I try to reassure her. But she shakes her head, looking at my son rocking him.
Rummaging through my bag, I retrieve him a nappy. Thankfully my shirt kept him dry and the blanket
that’s wrapped around him.
She moves over, leaning on the wall, and watches my son fall asleep in her arms. I sat next to her,
laying my head down on her shoulder before breaking down. Ava tried to soothe me, and I could feel
her crying silently beside me. How things had changed, Ava was my best friend, and I loved being her
sister. You could never beat a sister bond, someone who knows your hardships, knows what it is like to
grow up with the parents you have, someone who shares every milestone with you and every
I missed having someone to talk to. Mainly receiving judgmental glares or few words to show their
disgust of me. Nobody asked anymore how I was, nobody cared, and I was stupid enough to believe
Beta Marcus would be able to help, stupid enough to think my mate would accept me.
“How is mum?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.
“She is okay; she asked dad for a divorce when he kicked you out. But you know mum, she would
never leave him,” she tells me, and I nod.
It was unheard of for mates to get divorced. The bond stopped mates from being separated. It
weakened them, two souls, together, or that’s how it is supposed to be. I wasn’t looking forward to the
rest of my life feeling my mate whenever he was with another woman that wasn’t me. I wasn’t looking
forward to raising our son on my own or being alone.
When Valarian stirs, I get up and grab my formula before realizing I had no bottled water.
Waving the bottle at my sister, Ava passes my son to me before grabbing his bottle from my hand.
“120 mils,” I tell her, and she nods, opening the door when my son cries out really loud. I try to muffle
the noise and soothe him by giving his dummy, but he spits it out.
My sister stares at me in panic. Quickly closing the door before it is thrown open and bangs against the
wall. My father walks in. He looks at me. A growl escapes him, and I cower away from him; my sister
gets between us and shields me from my enraged father.
He shoves her out of the way before stalking toward me. “Please, Dad, please,” I beg. He grabs my
hair, and I scream, and so does my son in my arms as I try not to drop him. My reflexes wanted to pull
his hands away. Instead, I held my son, letting my hair tug painfully from my scalp.
“Mum, mum!” My sister starts screaming frantically before I hear feet slapping on the tiles.
“Please, Dad, Mum, help me. Mum, please,” I beg her when she rushes in, her mouth open in shock as
my father starts dragging me toward the front door by my hair.
My mother grips his arm, pleading with him “John, please let her go; she has a baby in her arms,”
He shoves her aside before dragging me down the hall to the front of the house. “Dad, please, it is
raining outside,” Ava begs our father. My mother is also frantically trying to stop him. My father does not
care; he growls at them, ignoring them and my cries. He opens the front door when my mother shoves
“John, she is daughter, please,” she begs, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face.
“That whore is not my daughter,” He growls, his canines protruding.
“Dad, please, it is freezing outside,” Ava begs.
“I said no, I will not have a rogue whore for a daughter,” he screams, his face turning red in his anger.
“Then take him, please. I will stay outside; just don’t put him out. Please, Dad, he is your grandson,” I
choke out. He growls at me, his hand shoving me out the door, about to shut the door in my face.
“Please just look at him, Dad. He will get sick, just one night, then I will leave,” I plead.
My mother reaches for Valarian, but my father pushes her behind him. “John, at least let me take him,
let me take my Grandson,” my mother cries. He lets me go looking down at my son before staring at
my mother, who was sobbing her hands outstretched for him, those same hands that held mine when I
was a little girl, now grasping the air for my son.
“Give him to her, but you stay out. You aren’t welcome here,” he says before walking off. My mother
rushes over to grab Valarian before hugging me briefly.
“I will watch him; I will stay by the window,” she says, and I nod.
“Ava has his baby bag,” I tell her. My sister clutches my fingers nodding. Tears rolled down her cheeks
as her lips quivered.
“It’s okay, Ava, I will be fine,” I tell my sister behind her before my dad yells at them, making them jump.
“I’m sorry, I have to,” my mother says, closing the door. I nod before the curtain in the living room
opens, and the lamp flicks on. I saw my sister rush off toward the kitchen, and my mother sat on the
lounge with him next to the window so I could see him.
“He has your nose,” she says, smiling sadly at me and I smile sitting on the chair out front on the porch.
I shiver my sister’s flannelette pajamas become soaked as the rain blows toward me on the patio area.
Listening and watching my mother through the window feeding my son his bottle.
At least he is warm and dry, I think to myself. Huddled up on the chair, I tuck my knees to my chest,
trying to warm myself and shield myself from the cold and the strong gusts of wind.
It doesn’t take long before I start shaking uncontrollably, and my teeth chatter so hard I thought they
would break. My mother tapped on the glass where I rested my head. I could see her heartbreak at
watching me sit in the cold and stormy weather.
“Shift sweety, shift to try to stay warm,” She says, placing her palm on the glass.
“I haven’t shifted yet,” I tell her, and she looks at me sadly. Shifting was a big thing with werewolves; it
was coming of age. Your wolf was meant to represent your future in the Pack, yet I hadn’t shifted, and it
was not celebratory like it was for most wolves; it would be purely necessity.