Chapter: 4

Elizabeth.

My eyes widen as the words register in my mind, and I can’t believe that he just said it.

“What?!” I demand.

“You heard me. That ingrate needs to learn his place!” My father reiterates, and from the corner of my eye, I see my stepmother grit her teeth.

“Father,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster although my heart hammers in my chest, thoughts run in my mind mile a minute, “What reason did Easton give for missing the meal?”

“He said he was busy-” My stepmother immediately starts, but my father cuts her off.

“Disrespect, that’s the reason,” Alpha Mannering thunders, banging his fist on the table, “This has been going on ever since that boy turned eighteen. Once he found his wolf, he’s starting to act as if he’s an Alpha. No, not even an Alpha would be as arrogant as he is being!”

Easton was a Delta, and I don’t think he is acting as my father claims he is. My father got angry easily when he thought that people were trying to go above him. Easton was twenty-one, so trying to be more independent from my father was only natural at such an age. I honestly didn’t see why he was making such a big deal out of Easton missing one lunch with us.

“Or” I try to reason, “Easton really is busy. Even if he isn't, missing lunch with us is not reason enough to deprive him of being my Beta or my Gamma in the future. That’s quite a harsh punishment for such a little offense.”

But that was the wrong thing to say because my father blows up on me, “Are you taking his side now too? First your stepmother and now you?!”

“Father, you are making a scene,” I notify him as his voice has risen, “And I am only taking the side of reason. I’ve never even thought about who my Beta or my Gamma would be because I still don’t know which tier I belong to. I might turn out to be a Delta or an Omega.”

“Nonsense, Mannering wolves are always Alphas. That’s why we don’t have more than one child to carry on our name. The firstborn can never not be an Alpha,” He brushes me off, “You could choose whoever you like to be your Beta and Gamma, except for that ingrate."

"Elizabeth is correct, Greyson," My Stepmother pipes in, surprising me, “You are overreacting. Easton is a good boy who is certainly not an ingrate as you claim to be. He only missed the lunch because he was busy, not because he wanted to make a statement against you. Even if he disliked you, he won’t have done it to his sister.”

My father stares at her as if she’d grown a horn and I realize that I was about to witness my parents fight. On my eighteenth birthday. Over my brother’s absence at a meal.

Oh, Goddess have mercy, why today of all days?!

“Are you defending him?” He utters as if he can’t believe it.

“I am trying to make you see that your son is not the enemy you make him out to be,” Carol insists, looking extremely uncomfortable, “He’s just growing up, trying to find himself. He’s got friends and duties in the pack that takes up his time, he may not always get time to spend with us.”

But what duties does Easton have? He wasn’t my father’s Beta or Gamma; he wasn’t even in the Guard. He had finished schooling, and now he was…

I realize then that I have no idea what my brother does with his time. I have seldom seen him around the pack at training ranges and whatnot. Perhaps I judged my father too quickly, perhaps his claim about Easton disliking him had some merit.

Which makes me quite sad. I, like many other children, did not like to see my family at odds with each other. And even if we had our distance, I still loved Easton. I stopped seeing him as my stepbrother years ago, to me, he was my sibling in every form that matters. Having my father be mad at my brother was not a pleasant feeling.

“What duties does he have, Carol? He’s not in the guard, he doesn’t have a job except occasionally aiding in hunting trips. He gangs up with those friends of his and just loiters around doing nothing. Rarely do I see him at the training ranges even, and you remember how we got messages from the school stating he was skipping classes?” My father, “So enlighten me, wife, what duties does your son have, so much so that he can’t spare a few minutes of his time to come and have lunch with us?!”

I stare at my full plate of food that suddenly looks so very unappetizing, starting to feel angry at Easton. Seriously, couldn’t he have just made an appearance? It was my eighteenth birthday, the day of my Midnight Ceremony, and my parents were fighting about Easton. I wanted this time to get some advice from them regarding the ceremony, I wanted to ask them what it was like when they found their own wolves. The Midnight ceremony was such an intimate affair that no one spoke much about their experiences because they thought that going through them as a surprise was part of the process. But ever since I could remember, I didn’t like surprises. I didn’t like unpredictability.

So I wanted my parents to give me some advice, but it seemed like I wasn’t going to. While I was glad that my normally demure stepmother was taking the opportunity to stand up to my father, I just wished they waited till lunch was over for it.

“'Your son, your son!' I’m sick of you calling him that whenever you want to blame him,” My stepmother was saying, “Yet when he accomplishes something, he is our son.”

“I call him your son because he is your son. If you can’t remember, he is not my son!” My father bellows, and you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.

Extremely fed up with this, I get up from the chair.

“Excuse me,” I mutter in a shaky voice, “But today is my eighteenth birthday, and tonight I have to face my Midnight ceremony. I don’t want to hear all of this now.”

With that, I leave the dining room.