Chapter 2 - Harsh But Needed.

Corinna

When I first came here, I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.

A cute, little 2-storey cottage with farm animals, a cow included, freely roaming around in the middle of nowhere at the foot of the mountain, all carefully and strategically hidden by large oak and willow trees. If we had kept on driving, I never would have noticed.

It looked like something out of a child’s book, but the moment I stepped out of Flora’s old beat-up truck and took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, it felt like I had returned home, which was strange because I don’t ever remember being here before.

I asked her about it, but she ignored me and told me just to enjoy being able to breathe without having to look over my shoulder for once.

But easier said than done.

I had Elijah in my sights at all times and in bed with me every night for the first few weeks we were here, until one day Flora stepped in and moved him to his own room. I almost tore her head off until she revealed that the request came from him, but he was afraid to tell me, so reluctantly I agreed, and that was the night Flora stopped giving me space, as she called it.

We ended up having our first proper heart-to-heart, where she said it’s time I actively start trying to heal myself because living in this constant state of fear is no good for me and, more importantly, for Elijah.

Or fair to either of us.

It was a hard thing to hear, and though I wanted to fight back by listing all the reasons why and why my fear is justified, I also knew that, deep down, she had a point.

He’s never truly been a child, given the life we’ve led so far.

So instead of saying what I wanted, which would have meant opening up about shit I wasn’t ready to talk about, I asked her how sure she was that we were safe here.

She simply smiled and said that this is where she raised my mother, with no one the wiser, from a child until she was ready to take her rightful place in the Tribe. The heavy implication wasn’t lost on me, especially when she called me ‘Queen’, saying she’s here for when I’m ready to open up about everything before retiring for the night.

I was left with my jaw on the ground, but I shook myself out of it and scoffed, mumbling that’s never going to happen because I’m sick of talking about my abuse thanks to those meetings. Never fucking helped me, so what’s the point?

Plus, this Queen shit is getting real old. Another thing that’s never going to happen.

I see she’s just as delusional as the others, but at least she’s nice and kind enough to let us stay here. Plus, I could learn a little more about my mother before it’s my time to physically meet her when my boy is old enough to take care of himself.

That was the last time she mentioned my past, much to my relief.

Instead, we spend our days hanging out around her fairly large property, where she takes Eli with her to help tend to the few animals she has. She also has a little area set up on the other side, full of wooden toys and tools, like little staffs, swords, and other things I don’t know the names of, which I thought was odd until I saw how much he enjoyed them.

Then one day, he came up and asked if he could learn to shoot a bow. At first, I was horrified and said no, but he kept begging until I relented. Another thing we do almost every afternoon before dinner is go on long walks around the forest, where Elijah can run freely and burn off energy. 

But the ritual of me drinking myself stupid when everyone has gone to sleep and it gets deathly quiet is alive and well, but again, who cares?

I make sure I’m up every morning, being present for my pup, and do my bit by occasionally helping with grocery runs, cooking, or cleaning.

But one morning, all that ends when Flora gives me a rude awakening by coming into my room at 5 am, to my chagrin, saying it’s time to start the day with a loud, cheerful voice.

I ignore her and turn over, pulling the covers over my head, curling myself up in a ball, grumbling under my breath that I’m tired.

She barges in by slamming the door open a few minutes later and roughly pulls the covers off me, making me growl.

“Oh, you didn’t just growl at me, princess.” She scolds, turning me over, getting into my face, and the look on her face makes me immediately regret growling at her.

“Starting today, things are changing around here. I gave you over a month to come to me of your own volition, and you didn’t take it, so now we doing things my way, starting with the 5 am wake-up calls.” She steps back, looking me up and down, scowling as her nose twitches like she smells something foul. “Now, do I physically need to bathe and dress you, or are you that deep in self-pity that you can’t do it yourself? I need to know because if yes, I need to set my alarm to go off earlier as I have animals that need feeding and then a cow and a few goats to milk.” She says in a no-nonsense tone, crossing her arms over her chest, arching a brow, and staring at me through narrowed eyes.

Her disapproval is evident in her tone and how she’s looking at me, and that makes me sit up and cross my arms in defiance. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me, and stop acting like you're my…”

She moves faster than I expected for a human and grabs my chin, getting into my face again. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She snarls. “I care because I loved you from the moment I held you in my arms when you were a wee pup, as if you were my own, just like your mother. So, you’re wrong. I knew about you. In fact, I was the second person to see and hold you after she gave birth to you. Unfortunately, it was also the last time I saw either of you.” She says, tone turning solemn for a moment, before she pushes me back as if I disgust her with more strength than I anticipated, making me hit the wall with my head hard.

“And now, after 25 years, it breaks and disappoints my heart to see you like this because I know that’s not who you are. You are the true daughter of a great and powerful A****n Queen, not some weak, depressing, drunk, sorry excuse of a warrior or mother who doesn’t even know how to look after her pup properly! It should be YOU who is teaching and training him how to be the Alpha he’s destined to be, rather than some old lady because you’re too weak and busy wallowing in wolfbane-laced alcohol and self-pity to pull your head out of your ass!” She spits, emphasizing the word weak.

I slowly stand up, body shaking in fury, fists balled. “How dare you?! I have given EVERYTHING I have for that pup!” I say before a roar erupts from me, making the whole house rattle.   

Rather than being afraid, she loudly scoffs but smirks like this is what she’s been waiting for, walking right into my face, taking me by surprise.

“Oh, please, pup, you don’t scare me. Go ahead, snarl, growl, and roar as much as you like, but I’m sure in a fight, I could beat you hands down, so do your worst.” She says, her eyes widening, openly challenging me.

And she was right.

She whooped my ass right then and there, leaving me heaving on the floor to nurse my busted lip, bruised ribs, as well as a bruised ego, but she didn’t stop there.

Later that night, after she and Eli went to bed, I snuck out of my room and tiptoe to the kitchen where I keep my stash, only to discover it’s all gone.

Damn that woman.

Alright, fine, high it is.

I put on my flip-flops and go outside to where she keeps the wolfsbane, but it's gone too. She’s even pulled out the plants and shredded them so fine that nothing can be done with them. 

With a huff, I walk up to the house…

“Told you, we will be doing things my way from now on.” She says, leaning on the door with her arms crossed, wearing her robe and slippers, making me jump and almost fall down the porch stairs.

She’s like a damn ninja!

“If you can’t sleep, you come and find me.” She says, then turns and walks back inside towards the kitchen.

I walk in, closing the door behind me, following her into the kitchen, where I slump down into a chair, covering my face with my hands.

“I have nightmares or night terrors, as Tess called them. That’s why I drink, but straight alcohol doesn’t help unless I drink like 6 bottles, hence…”

“I’m aware. Tess told me when I called her.” She says, flicking the stove on.

I snap my head to her. “You talked to Tess?” I ask, curious.

She shrugs, as if it shouldn’t be a surprise, while she fills a pot with water. “Of course. I needed to know what I was dealing with. Sofia only told me the basics.” She says, placing it on the stove.

She then goes to the big antique cabinet that sits against the wall between the kitchen and living room, where she has her weird but beautiful little trinkets displayed on top, and carefully moves it out of the way.

I cock my head to the side, watching her in curiosity, as she lowly grunts and huffs until finally it’s moved out enough for her to get something from behind.

I get distracted by the pot whistling, quickly get out of my chair, move the pot, and turn the stove off before it wakes Eli. 

By the time I’ve gotten the mugs out, she’s returned and drops some tea bags I’ve never seen or smelt before into the mugs, pouring water before I can question her about them.

“Drink then I’ll show you.” She says, and so I did. It’s not like I have anything better to do.

After a few sips, she hands me something weird because it was all rolled up, old, delicate, and a little dusty.

“After what happened to your mother, I went there looking for anything that could be saved and found this, among other things. I’ve only taken it out once when Sofia and Tess came to me. It’s old, so I didn’t want sunlight or the elements to ruin it, but it’s important for you to see it. Amazing how cameras and things have been around for decades, and yet the Amazons still did things like this.” She explains, chuckling under her breath, as she carefully rolls it out.

My eyes slowly widen from shock because it’s a portrait.

A beautiful, vibrant, and full-of-colour portrait of my mother, and I know it’s her because the person who did this has written her name, not that I needed it to know it was her.

Everyone was right.

I do look like her except for the hair. She’s more blonde, whereas my hair is more silver.

I stand up to examine it, hands hovering over it because I want to touch, but I don’t know if I should.  

“Oh, wow.” I whisper, tears pricking.

I don’t know if it was the tea or seeing the portrait of my mother, but that night I not only started opening up to Flora about the past, but I also managed to sleep for the first time without any ‘assistance’.

I’ve also slowly, slowly begun training alongside Eli, but unlike him, I’ve been picking up certain things a lot faster, since Stephanie taught me when I was younger.

It’s more about building up my stamina and core strength again.

Flora makes me run laps, both in human and wolf forms, whenever we go on our afternoon walks out in the forest, and in the mornings, I do a lot of push-ups and sit-ups. On a night or day, if needed, I punch a punching bag until I’ve worked out my anger.

After 6 weeks of straight strength and core training, Flora began sparring with me, first in hand-to-hand combat, then gradually began introducing weapons, such as chobos, as she calls them. But my personal favorite is the sais.

One evening after a tiring day, we’re sitting in our comfortable rocking chairs out on the porch, blankets covering our legs, drinking some tea that she made, when she hands me a phone.

“I think it’s time you contact your mate. From what I’ve heard, he’s not doing well.”

I furrow a brow. “What do you mean? He’s an Alpha.”

“So? He’s an Alpha who misses his fated mate, and he’s worried about you.”

“But why? I’m not anything special…” I murmur, looking away, resting my chin on my fist. 

I feel fingers go through my hair, gently stroking. “Yes, you are. And I am not talking about who you are because to him? It doesn’t matter.”

“How would you know?” I murmur.

“Experience.” She vaguely says, making me look up to her.

She looks at me with a sad smile. “That’s a story for another time. Just call him. I’m sure the sound of your voice would do him a whole lot of good.”

“You think I’m ready?” I ask.

“For a simple phone or text conversation? Yes.” She says, like it’s no big deal, walking over to her chair to pick up her mug, and goes inside.

I look up to the sky and sigh.

Maybe she’s right. It’s no big deal, and I want to know what she means by him not doing well. 

I unlock the phone and tap his contact, shocked when I see all the texts he’s been sending. I do a quick scroll and see that he’s been doing this every day, multiple times.

I promise to read all of them, but first…

I press the call button, and within 3 seconds of it ringing, it connects.

“Wyatt?”