4

Ever since I could remember, my parents were rarely home.

They dedicated almost their entire lives to herbal research.

They would often leave for a year or more at a time.

Besides the hired Omega servants, the only ones who took care of me were my twin brothers, eight years older than me.

When I was six and just starting elementary school, I was bullied by classmates because I was smaller and weaker than them.

My parents were thousands of miles away, so I came home and cried under my blankets.

Fourteen-year-old Axel came into my bedroom late at night to check if I had kicked off my covers.

When he pulled back the blanket, he saw my tear-stained face.

He held me and wiped away my tears just like Mom used to do.

While patting my back, he comforted me:

"It's okay. Big brother will protect Ember."

The next day, he went to my school and beat up all the bullies. The teachers caught him and punished him by making him serve as a combat training partner for the elite Alpha wolves.

When I couldn't find him after school, I ran to his campus. In the training arena, those Alpha wolves were beating him until his face was covered in blood.

My eyes turned red with worry.

He ran down from the platform, his face covered in wounds, and grinned to reassure me: "This is nothing.

"Brother loves combat training. When I finish, I'll be stronger and better able to protect my little princess."

We walked home together after his training.

When we arrived, the Omega servant was on leave.

Ryker had already prepared hot, delicious food. When we opened the door, the wonderful aroma filled the house.

The teenage boy grabbed bowls and chopsticks from the kitchen, poking his head out to say: "Wash your hands. Dinner's ready."

Ryker had always been quiet but gentle and attentive.

Whenever I played too roughly and got seriously hurt, trying to sneak back home without telling anyone,

He would silently roll up my sleeve and treat my wounds.

When he finished, he'd look up as if wanting to say something.

Seeing me nervously biting my lip, he'd just sigh softly.

He'd pat my head and say: "Be more careful next time."

I was mischievous and active as a child, never learning to be careful.

So he would bandage my wounds again and again.

And each time, seeing my panicked expression, he would sigh and tell me: "Be more careful next time."

For many years while our parents were absent, they were both brothers and fathers to me as I grew up.

Until I turned twelve and saw the Caribbean on television.

Axel promised to take me to see the ocean, and Ryker booked tickets for the three of us.

Then the very next day, our parents suddenly died.

Before the tragedy, my parents were developing herbs to enhance werewolves' self-healing abilities, on the verge of success and planning to sell them at low prices to werewolves worldwide.

When word leaked out, they became targets of hatred from other pharmaceutical companies.

The arsonist set fire to the research lab in the early morning.

When Axel, Ryker, and I got the news and rushed over, we found only two charred bodies.

As they burned to death, a brave warrior had rushed into the inferno trying to save them, but was also burned alive.

That warrior left behind an orphan—his child wasn't even a year old when he died, and the child's mother had already passed away.

Axel and Ryker spent six exhausting years searching until they finally found that child in an orphanage.

Life has its strange coincidences.

Six months after twelve-year-old Willow was brought to the Pack house, I went for dinner with classmates and ran into the orphanage director, who tearfully confessed after too much alcohol.

I learned that the real Willow had died of heart disease in the orphanage when she was only three.

The "Willow" who came to us was another orphan with heart disease who couldn't afford treatment.

The director felt sorry for her and let her take the place of the deceased Willow so my brothers would pay for her medical care.

I rushed home only to find Willow breaking my things again.

It was my last remaining family photo with all of us together.

The frame fell to the floor, glass shattering into pieces.

Just like countless times before, Willow crouched to pick up the pieces, then held up her cut hand, looking pitiful so Axel would comfort her.

Furious, I yanked her away, losing control and shouting: "Get out!"

For the first time, Axel's face darkened toward me.

Even the usually quiet and gentle Ryker looked disappointed:

"Ember, your arrogance and willfulness need to stop."

I told them everything I'd heard.

Then I saw Willow's panicked expression.

I thought at least her illness had been cured.

An impostor shouldn't continue occupying my home and my brothers, shouldn't keep breaking my things.

But what answered me was Axel's angry voice:

"Ember, why can't you accept Willow?

"Her father burned to death trying to save our parents—she's his only flesh and blood, his only concern.

"Doesn't your conscience hurt when you make up these lies?!"

After that, things were never peaceful between us again.

A month ago, Willow used her old tricks and broke my necklace that contained my mother's ashes.

I chased her to the stairs, lost control, and slapped her face.

She deliberately fell down the stairs. When I tried to grab her, I fell with her.

My arm was injured, and I struggled to get up.

Before I could say a word, Axel slapped me across the face for the first time.

The usually gentle and quiet Ryker exploded in anger:

"Ember, if you can't live with us, then get out!"

They took Willow to the hospital, leaving me behind despite my injuries.

The Caribbean trip they had promised to take me on—ten years later, they were taking Willow instead.