Sold to the coldhearted beast

Wolfshire, winter 1854

 *Tristan*

 I am waiting, not moving a muscle and not making a sound.

 Sitting on a large rock in the center of the ruins of the old church, I do not feel any distress even if I probably should. The snow is falling in fat wet flakes and the icy wind is howling around me like a pack of wolves but I stay still as a statue.

 I will not allow any happy memories to enter my mind. To be honest I am not excited for my brothers to return. I will not be happy about it. It is just a fact that I am waiting for.

 On this dreadful night it is ten years ago to the day that they left me. Like I was nothing, like I was trash to be thrown out, like we were not actual brothers with the same forefathers and the same blood running through us. All they had left me was the promise that on this very night they would return and we would finally get revenge on our uncle, the man who had wanted us dead so he could become the Alpha of the snow Moon pack.

 Throughout the passing years I could have killed him myself several times. But I have kept to the shadows and merely watched as Alpha Danix Rafe has gone around pretending to be someone he isn’t. I know he is the one I should truly hate and despise, and I sure as hell has no love for him, but neither do I for my brothers, and their betrayal cut me much deeper. 

 I especially hate Raphael, because he called me a cry baby. And Stephan for not comforting me and telling me that everything would be alright.

 I had been all of ten winters old and scared like no kid should never feel fear. My brothers, the infamous Rafe twins, were four years older. They always seemed to know what the other thought, felt and feared, to get what the others were striving for. I have not seen Them even once since they left me at a workhouse and disappeared into the sunset together, not as much as a letter.

 That evening I cried, screamed and even begged. 

 I am ashamed now to think back on my behavior and weakness that ratchet evening. But it taught me one thing, to repress the tears and emotions, to harden my heart until I luckily feel nothing at all.

 Welcoming the numbness that spreads in my body until it matches my soul I don't even care to hold my gloved hands towards the small fire that is trying to expel the darkness. 

 It doesn’t even enter my mind that my brothers could be dead and that is the reason for their absence. I simply assume they are aware of how Well I am doing on my own. I have managed all these years without them, I have survived due to my own strength and diligence and I sure as hell do not need them now.

 In the workhouse where I stayed, punishment was more frequent than a hearty meal. Especially for someone like me, who was a bit of a chubby boy when I first arrived. I loved my sweets and candy. I still do, but I can control myself, so it is now more of a rare treat. I will never again let myself grow fat and slow. I have shown the world how swift I am, how … deadly I can be when needed.

 With time and hard work,I had finally managed to shape the workhouse and I made my way to the Capital, where I lived on the street as a rogue. I had barely scraped through, until I met a man who knew all of the city's darkest secrets. Now those belong to me.

 When all that remains of the fire is ashes and the memory of warmth, and the sky is slowly turning orange on the horizon, the cold has settled into the depths of my bones. I decide it is time to unfold my body and get up. 

 With the knowledge that they will not show wade through the broken building to what was once a majestic window.

 I should not be surprised that they fail to show. I instantly push away the seed of disappointment threatening to take root and grow into fiery anger and pain, to unfold into loneliness. It is not like they mean anything to me any longer, I won’t allow them too.

 They can burn in hell for all I care.

 With my face set in a mask of indifference I turn from the former indse, my long coat flaring out like a cape. I slowly give my expensive leather gloves a tug, even if they do not need it at all.

 I look at the local man who escorted me here. “I need you to wait here every night till they show”.

 “For how long should I do that sir ?” The man asks. “And what about pay ?”

 It’s a good question, the first one. How long is long enough ?

 “Till they show”. I end up saying again. “And you will be paid the same as you Got tonight for every night … payment once a week”.

 “And if they never show up ?” He asks.

 I don't even want to think about that option. I do not want to give life to the thought that they could actually be dead. That would leave me totally, completely and absolutely alone. Also it would rob me of the much deserved pleasure of telling them that I do not need them in my life. To tell them that they mean nothing to me, less than nothing even. Just like I had meant nothing to them.

 “They will come”. I say with certainty.

 Walking out of the ruins I make a smooth change into my wolf, galloping into the crisp morning air. One sentence repeating itself in my mind over and over: You are all alone. You are all alone. You will always be alone, and you deserve it. That is why they left you.