I hope you choke on that caviar.

Kane

"Mother," I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You don't seem to understand what I'm trying to tell you." The endless battle between my mother and me seems to bring out the worst in me. For years, her psycho husband has led the pack like a dictator, and even though I'm well into my thirties, he refuses to step down from that title because he knows I'll bring far too many changes with me. "Amon, he's a lunatic." My statement finally catches her attention. 

Mother rolls her eyes and snorts. "My husband isn't a lunatic. He is a righteous man and has brought so much freedom to our people; we should be grateful for all he does." She finally turns around to face me. I've been standing behind her for hours as she concentrates on covering her face with layers of makeup. 

"Is that so?" I chuckle. 

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and huffs, "Yes."

My mother used to be a wise woman, but all those years spent next to her crazy husband have resulted in severe brain damage. I love her to bits, but she's as blind as a mole. "What is freedom if he built it on the foundation of slavery?" Enough with the excuses; she needs to face reality before it's too late. 

"Slavery? Boy, you're delusional. Those are your drugs talking, aren't they? Kane, darling, go home and lie down," she tries to put her palm on my forehead, but I push her hand away from me. It's funny how my own mother forgot that I stopped taking medication more than twenty years ago. Besides, I had to take them once, when I was very young. 

I roll my eyes at her ignorance and lack of knowledge. If only I could talk some sense into her, she'd understand that Amon destroyed everything dad fought for. "You may overlook slavery, but I see it in action day after day, and I'm sick of it. There's no point in mentioning humans, they're little minions running around doing your dirty work. But those are not only humans; I'm talking about low-rank and middle-class shifters. What's the problem with finding a solution and living side by side in peace?" I raise my voice, hoping she'll hear me out. For once, she might try to be on my side and see things the way I do. 

My attempts are dismissed in a blink of an eye as she turns back to the mirror and applies bright red lipstick. "I need to get ready for the dinner party. Annoy someone else, please. We can talk later," mother purses her lips and smiles at my reflection. 

"You won't tell them anything!" She screams as she presses her finger against my chest. Am I really the only person who truly cares about people who are dying, regardless of their species, skin colour, or age?

"Oh, I won't, but I make no promises for those who live under your rule. I'm lucky enough to have an actual brain and invest my money in properties- if I didn't do that, who knows, I might be standing next to the poor souls who built your lifestyle at the expense of their lives." I shrug and head for the door to her room. No matter how hard I try to have a reasonable conversation with her and inform her of any problem that comes up, she'd rather admire herself in the mirror and flaunt her husband in front of the guests.

"Silly boy, I’d never let you die in poverty," my mother calls after me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep my thoughts from escaping my lips. 

"Yet, you allow others to starve, work until they drop, or catch deadly diseases. Such a hypocrite." I poke the issue once more. A tiny part of me hopes she'll pull her head out of her ass for once and listen. After all, she's the rightful Luna, while Amon got the title through marriage. Everyone knew he'd be a shitty Alpha, but no one could imagine the dreadful things he was planning for the pack. 

"That's enough, Kane!" Mother throws her lipstick at me as she screams at the top of her lungs. She has a shit aim, by the way. "Leave before I get angry and call Amon."

"Too bad he doesn't scare me, right?" I chuckle and open the door. I bet mother is furious, so I throw a glance over my shoulder. "Whatever, I'm leaving this dump; enjoy your evening." As usual, I start with the nice part. Then, I wink at her and add, "Oh, and mother, I hope you choke on that caviar." I can still hear her screams after I close the door behind me. I love the moments when I can piss her off enough that she refuses to leave her room. One less party means a little more resources for the pack. 

I force my hands into the pockets of my jeans and leave her packhouse. The poor people race back and forth to get the house ready before their beloved guests arrive. I don't understand what my mother is doing. Good leaders sacrifice everything they have for the people who trust them, not take away the last bit that people have. With these extravagant parties, she does nothing but feeds her ego while her people starve.

As usual, my eyes scan the woods before I take off. My house is on the opposite side of the territory- I chose the location to increase the distance between my mother and me. Though I still visit her from time to time, I prefer to stay away.

It's not often that an uneasy feeling sits in the pit of my stomach as soon as I enter the woods. Everyone knows how dangerous they are, but I've never had a problem walking through them. Never, until today.

Something is wrong, but I can't figure out what. As I keep walking, I try to focus on my surroundings. The trail looks the same as always; I don't see new footsteps, catch an unknown scent, or notice anything out of place. Yet, the feeling's still there, and I can't shake it off.

I take a few more steps forward, and suddenly, I want to change direction and go around the trail. I prefer to take the same old way, but if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's to trust my gut feeling, and I won't ignore that today. 

I guess I'm lucky because I notice fresh footprints in the snow. I kneel to take a closer look. My attention is immediately caught by tiny, frantic-looking footsteps, apparently followed by two shifters.

I follow the trail they left and spot a small hill. My eyes take in the surroundings until they focus on a brown bookbag. I'm pretty sure someone slid down the hill here and was too busy running to catch their belongings. What the hell happened out here? I carefully make my way down the hill, grab the bag and follow footsteps, humming a tune to keep myself entertained.

After a while, the paw prints change to feet, and I suspect there must be a woman and two men after her. This doesn't look right. The owner of the tiny feet couldn't be human; Amon forbade them to leave their homes after the dark.

My heart skips a beat- but what if it's a woman? What if it's a human after all? What if she's in danger because two wolves decided to play the game of chase with someone Amon would allow to hurt?

I try to spot anything out of the ordinary, but there's nothing but the footprints. I lose hope of figuring out what happened or helping anyone who might be in need until a horrified scream startles me. Without a second thought, I take off.