Chapter 1 What is Your Name, Puppy

Keira POV

"Vacuum up the cake crumbs, Keira; I don't want to say it again."

If you were there, you would have a headache from listening to my brother Louis's "speech", which was really irritating.

"Keira, I'll hire a housekeeper if you don't want to do it, and you'll be homeless." He spoke.

Louis threatened me once more. A housekeeper? Was he serious? I needed to take action now, not later, if I didn't want things to get worse.

As a housekeeper as he said, I was typically in charge of cooking, cleaning, and dealing with the messes he made, but I occasionally disobeyed him and, to my surprise, he usually dealt with it quietly on his own; the only time he didn't was when he was in a bad mood, or on the day my parents died.

I don't think there is anything worse than realizing that nothing will ever change after seeing through the current quo.

I deserved it. Not all siblings are like Louis and me. It's not as easy as it seems. Not only did I lose my parents, but I also lost all I owned. Most significantly, I lost Louis forever. As the only person who knew the truth about my parents' death, I withheld so much from him. Our relationship started to deteriorate when I steadfastly refused to tell him the truth about what had transpired. He will never be able to forgive me. I frequently question whether I made the right choice, and I have to admit that the lesson he gave me—never lie to someone you love—I paid the price.

Our relationship was more akin to a lake that is slowly beginning to freeze over in the winter. I frowned as I rose from the bed. I had been thinking about leaving, but I hadn't shifted yet, which worried me because for a wolf, shifting was crucial.

Opening the door to my room, I slowly descended the stairs. I should have become accustomed to my brother's signature chilly glare, but each time he looked into me with emotionless, frozen eyes, it simply made me feel colder. How did his emerald eyes, once so joyful and loving, become so sad and ruthless?

I remembered how things used to be. Louis used to tell jokes and he loved to make people laugh. Now he had become colder and less compassionate. Sadness and pain had completely dimmed the light in my life and melancholy pervaded everything.

Although my brother Louis Morgan was three years older than me, he was both my best friend and the closest thing I had to family. As a child, he would take me by the hand and take me wherever I wanted to go. He would use his pocket money to give me biscuits, sweets, and everything I wanted, even if I didn't have the money to buy him anything. You know how young children are naturally curious about the adult world. When I asked him to take me out with his mates, he begged me to stay at home because frankly, children would ruin all their fun, but in the end, because of my tears, he agreed. Sometimes when we argued, even though it was my fault, he always apologized first. I remember when Julio, a classmate from primary school, bullied me, and when Luis saw the way I was crying with tears all over my face, he immediately took me to the porch of Julio's house, and then Luis hit him hard. The way he later knelt in front of me, dried my tears, comforted me, and swore that he would protect me from then on is something I can now conjure up when I close my eyes. Every year he would prepare elaborate birthday presents for me and ask me if I was ready for my 18th birthday. Now, there are no more presents, no more birthday parties. Obviously, before this, everything was perfect.

I left the house with a stiff expression after sensing his gaze as if it were questioning, "Where are you going?" I mean, how could I accept the fact that he treated me like this after he treated me like a treasure? I knew him because we grew up with him, and every time he gives me such a glance, I felt like I'll die by a thousand cuts. I sighed and shut the door. I had already taken out my phone and phoned my closest friend Lynede, thinking I would unwind with a glass of wine.

We went to the Moonlight Club, which is so well-known that occasionally werewolves from other packs come here to sip its spirits. Our Alpha appears to view it as a political occasion, and he is proud of it, as evidenced by the fact that he entertains other pack members here. The club was packed with sweaty people and blaring rock music. I could barely hear Lynede's voice over the screams and tunes. It's been just one hour, and I was already half drunk, but it's not enough.

I would give all I have in exchange for a time machine, but I have nothing left to lose. Is there anywhere I can forget all my concerns?

"I wanna one more whisky, what about you?" Lynede shouted at me since the music was so loud.

"No, I wanna dance. Come with me?"

Lynede held her glass and shook her head. She waved me off. I walked onto the dance floor, which was packed with people moving their bodies.

I raised my hands and moved my body, getting lost in the rhythm. In all the people, I caught a glimpse of a male's back, but he quickly vanished. I wasn't sure why my eyes kept locking on him, but I could tell by the way I sighed that I was sorry I missed the opportunity to ask him to dance After a while, I felt a body brush past my back, they were so close to me.

"What is your name, puppy?" A male bent and whispered in my ears.

I couldn't help but shiver.