She Is Really Pitiful

JESS

I watch the abomination as she walks out of the car into the biting mountain air.

She looks absolutely pathetic. The ugly beige lace dress hangs off her narrow shoulders like a dirty bedsheet. The muddy color makes her pale skin look completely washed out and sickly. She stumbles on the uneven stones, her ankles wobbling precariously. Her cheap shoes offer zero support, and she practically folds in on herself as she stares up at the massive stone walls of Alpha Luke's estate. I can smell the sour, bitter stench of her fear leaking through the cracks of the car doors.

I lean back against the headrest. A slow, deeply satisfied smile stretches across my face. I run a hand down the smooth silk of my designer dress, feeling the firm strength in my own muscles beneath the fabric. Everything is finally falling into place.

"Look at her," I whisper. I lean forward and tap a nail against the cold window glass. "She looks like she is walking straight to the executioner. She actually thinks she is making some grand, heroic sacrifice."

My mother, Veronica, turns her head slightly. She looks radiant today. Her dark hair is pulled into a flawless, tight knot at the base of her skull. She wears a crimson dress that matches the ruthless glint in her amber eyes. I always strive to mirror that exact look of absolute, terrifying control.

"Let her play the martyr," my mother replies. Her voice is a low, even drawl. "It keeps her compliant. A willing bride causes far fewer problems than a screaming one."

I let out a short laugh. The sound bounces off the quiet interior of the car. "I still cannot believe she bought the whole prison story. It was almost too easy. I thought she might ask for some kind of proof. A phone call. A police report. Anything at all."

My mother adjusts the heavy ruby pendant resting against her collarbone. "She is weak. Weak people cling to whatever narrative allows them to feel important. She has spent her entire life as a useless human in a house full of predators. We finally gave her a purpose. Saving her precious father."

I turn my attention back to the window. Belle is still standing frozen by her open car door. She stares at the ground, hugging her arms tightly around her ribs. I know exactly what is running through her pathetic little mind. She is picturing my stepfather, Graham, sitting in some cold, damp concrete cell. She is convincing herself that offering her body to a ruthless monster like Luke is an act of pure devotion. She truly believes she is doing the right thing for the only man who ever loved her.

The reality is far less dramatic. It is actually hilarious.

Graham is not in a cell. My foolish, soft-hearted stepfather is currently sitting in a luxury hotel suite three states away. He is attending a regional trade summit. I stood right next to my mother while she personally packed his bags. She smiled and kissed his cheek while handing him a schedule that would keep him trapped in boardroom meetings for twelve hours a day. He thinks his delicate human daughter is sitting safely in her attic bedroom, painting her silly pictures and hiding from the world.

By the time Graham returns on Sunday, the mating ceremony will be finished. Belle will belong to Luke. The bond will be recognized by the Council, and there will be absolutely nothing Graham can do to reverse it.

"Dad is going to lose his mind when he gets back," I note. I do not feel worried. I feel highly entertained. I picture his face turning bright red, his jaw clenching, his fists slamming into the dining room table until the wood splinters.

"Your father will throw a tantrum," my mother corrects me. "His face will turn red. He will yell and break a few vases. But then he will realize the political advantage we have gained. Alpha Luke is the second most powerful wolf in this territory. Having a direct family tie to him elevates our entire pack. Graham cares about his reputation just as much as I do. He will accept the situation."

"And if he doesn't?" I ask.

My mother narrows her eyes at the gothic stone facade of the mansion. "He will. He has to. For twenty years I have endured the whispers of the other females. I have walked into council meetings and felt their pity. They look at me and see the woman burdened with raising a human abomination. A constant reminder of Graham's frail first wife. I am done being pitied, Jess. Today, I secure our legacy. Today, they look at us and feel envy."

I nod slowly. I understand her completely. We are cut from the exact same cloth. Survival is not enough for us. We require absolute dominance. I hate the way the pack looks at us because of Belle. They smell the human weakness on our porch. They judge us for keeping a creature who cannot even shift, a girl who cowers at the sound of a raised voice.

Outside, one of Luke's guards approaches Belle. The guard is a massive man with thick white scars dragged across his chin. He gestures toward the heavy oak doors of the estate. Belle flinches at his sudden movement, shrinking back against the side of the car. She nods, her shoulders slumping in total defeat. She begins a slow, dragging walk toward the entrance.

"She really is pitiful," I say. I smooth the fabric of my own designer dress again, relishing the soft, expensive texture against my palms. "Do you think Luke will kill her?"

"What Luke does with his property behind closed doors is his business," my mother says. She reaches for the silver handle of the car door. "Our only concern is making sure she signs the registry and says her vows. Once the ink is dry, our debt is paid. We walk away with the alliance, and we never have to look at her puffy, tear-stained face ever again."

My mother pushes the door open. The biting mountain wind hits the interior of the car immediately. I welcome the sharp chill. It clears my head and makes me feel awake. My mother steps out onto the gravel, her heels sinking slightly into the white stones. She stands tall, rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin high.

I slide out from the other side. I pull my shoulders back and tilt my head, mirroring her posture perfectly. We are two strong, proud wolves ready to take our rightful place among the elite.

We walk toward the massive doors of the estate, leaving the cars behind. The scent of roasting meats and heavy spices drifts from the mansion. It covers the sharp smell of impending rain lingering in the grey sky above us. I keep my eyes fixed on the grand entrance. I do not look at Belle as we pass her on the steps. She is just a stepping stone on my path to power. A necessary sacrifice for the greater good of my future.

I smile, tasting the sweet flavor of total victory. I picture my future status among the packs. No one will dare mock us again. Today is going to be a perfect day.