CHAPTER THREE: THE GHOSTS IN THE GLASS
2033 Words
“Daddy, can we stop for ice cream? Please, please, please!” I pleaded, kicking the back of his seat.
He sighed, shaking his head as he kept his eyes on the road. “Ty honey, sit still. We’ll be home soon.”
“But you promised,” I whined, tugging at his seat belt from behind. “Just one scoop of ice cream. Pretty please?”
He looked at me through the rear-view mirror and his mouth curved into a soft, indulgent smile. “Okay, just one scoop. And if Mama asks, you tell her nothing, deal?”
I giggled, clapping my hands in victory as the car slowed and turned into an ice cream shop. “Deal!”
Inside, his hand rested on my shoulder as he guided me to the counter, the smell of sugar and vanilla wrapping around me.
“What will it be, princess?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Chocolate swirl with sprinkles!” five-year-old me sang out.
He laughed and ordered it, but when he turned to hand me the cone, he paused, the smile fading from his face.
I frowned at his reaction and turned back to see what he was looking at, only to catch the eye of a couple of men in long coats and masks who had just walked in.
Something about them felt wrong.
“We need to leave, Princess,” he murmured as he handed me the cone, his gaze never leaving the men.
My smile returned, and I instantly forgot the men as I began to lick my ice cream.
But before I could take another bite, a gunshot split the air, and shouting erupted. The cone fell from my hand, splattering on the floor.
“Get her!” a voice shouted.
A rough hand tried to grab me, but my father immediately punched the man out and pulled me away.
He carried me quickly toward the back of the shop because the shop’s entrance was blocked by more armed men approaching.
“Daddy—”
“Hold on!” he urged over the chaotic sounds of gunfire and screams of pain and panic.
When we reached the safety of the restroom, he moved me into a stall and crouched down so he was level with me.
“Stay here, princess. Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me urgently, his eyes full of intensity. “I’ll come back for you.”
Tears streaked down my face. “No, Papa! Don’t leave me—”
He patted my head, then stood up and closed the stall door.
I heard the restroom door slam open, followed by the sounds of fighting outside the door.
For a few minutes, everything was loud. Then, total silence.
The stall door creaked open, and I looked up, expecting him, but instead, one of the masked men stood there.
I pressed against the wall as he reached out for me.
But before he could reach me, the bloody, half-shifted form of my father flashed behind him with incredible speed, flung him into the large mirror.
The man groaned, reaching for his gun, but my dad flashed to him and snapped his neck.
I looked around the room in a blur of fear to see blood splattered over the broken appliances, and about six bodies on the ground.
He suddenly paused and sniffed the air. “Silver,” he muttered, and I could hear the horror in his voice.
A second later, three masked men stepped into the restroom, immediately pointed their automatic rifles at me, and opened fire.
“No!” my dad screamed and flashed to me faster than I’ve ever seen him move before and wrapped his arms around me. Shielding me just in time.
I screamed, my shaking hands clutching his shirt as his body jerked with the impact of the bullets.
"You'll be fine, princess," he whispered, his voice strained, blood spilling from his mouth. “Help will be here in a few minutes.”
Everything in me shattered as the light left his eyes and he slumped forward, still protecting me.
"Papa!" I screamed, feeling like something was splitting apart my head from the inside.
Then the world turned pure white.
* * * * * *
I jolted awake, the scream stuck in my throat.
“f**k me,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. “I would take the weird s*x dreams over this any day.”
It had been twenty years, but the memory of the horrible day, 5-year-old me had caused my father’s death because of my childish insistence on ice cream.
The police called it a terrorist attack, though no organization ever admitted to doing it. The thing people found weirdest about the whole incident was how every one of the assailants, who wasn’t killed by my father, had suddenly dropped dead of heart failure at the scene.
A total of twenty innocent civilians and I had been the only survivor in the shop.
The trauma that the specialist had said destroyed my soul, killing my wolf side.
My phone began to ring beside me.
I stared at it for a long time before finally pressing accept.
“Sweetheart,” my mother, Anya, said softly. “It’s been so long. I was beginning to think you’ve been purposely ignoring my calls.”
“Sorry mom, I’ve just been very busy,” I replied, leaning against the headboard.
“I figured,” she said with understanding. “I and Lucius heard about your new research on the role of AI in alzheimer or something."
"AI role in predictive diagnosis and personalizing treatments for conditions like Alzheimer's disease and heart disease." I corrected drolly.
"Yeah, that. Both of us are so proud of you,” she said. “And we miss you over here, you know. How long has it been since you came to visit? Two, three years?"
"It's been just two years mom," I replied with an exasperated sigh. "I’m about to start preparing for work. What’s up?"
“I know you’ve heard the twins’ inauguration is in two weeks,” she said, her voice firm. “You have to be here, Tyra.”
“Why? So that awful pack can whisper about the wolfless freak?” I sighed, pushing the old bitterness that was trying to rise. “Even the twins hate me, mom. I’ll just ruin their important ceremony.”
“They are going the traditional way,” she hissed, her patience beginning to wear thin. “All family members have to be in attendance for the whole ceremony, or it will lead to council issues.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I’m not part of the family, remember?”
The memory of the first time I had been introduced to the famous Forrest twin heirs replayed in my head.
—
My clammy palms were clammy as I followed my mother up the stairs to the quarters.
The twins were just two years older than me, but looked larger than life as they sat playing video games.
The twins were popular in the werewolf community. They were hot, rich, and heirs to the Forrest empire and powerful crescent moon pack.
“Tyra,” my mom said, her voice ringing with pride. “These are your stepbrothers. Meet Alaric and Osric.”
I had smiled nervously, waiting for them to acknowledge me.
Alaric’s head snapped to me, and his eyes widened. Then his gaze went cold as they swept over me, his lips curling like he had seen something horrible.
“So this is the one without a wolf?” he sneered. “What a waste of a good lineage.”
My smile faltered, Alaric's words feeling like a knife to my chest.
Beside him, Osric had only shrugged. “Welcome,” he said distractedly, not bothering to turn away from the game.
"Boys behave!" Alpha Forrest hissed.
They stood and shook my hand, while grumbling out another ‘welcome’.
I turned to my mom, keeping my face impassive as she looked at me apologetically. “Show me to my room.”
Then I walked out without waiting for a reply. I had never smiled like that in that house again.
“Ty,” she yelled, running after me. “I’m sure they are just distracted…”
“It’s none of my business if they accept me or not,” I cut in, my voice flat. “I’m happy you found another mate after dad…”
“It’s been ten years, Ty,” she snapped, grabbing my hand and pulling me into a bedroom. “As much as I loved your father, he wasn’t my true mate. Can’t you be happy for me that I finally found him?”
I sighed. “I literally just said I’m happy for you mom,” I hissed, rolling my eyes. “But their behaviour and words showed what they think about me, and won’t start trying to make your new family like me at my own expense. Happy new family, mom. But they aren’t mine.”
Two weeks later, the wedding took place, and after a month of isolation, being shunned and treated like a subhuman by the pack and my stepbrothers, I begged my mom to let me go to boarding school in Switzerland, claiming it was because it was one of the best.
I always found excuses to never go back; extra after-school courses, projects, after school trips. And when I hadn't been able to stay away, I stayed in my room, and Alaric always found a way to keep him and Osric away from the house until I left again.
And after that, a university in England, another degree in Singapore, and so on....
Education became my salvation and means of escape.
—
“Tyra,” my mom called out. “Are you still there?”
“Why would I need to be there?” I snapped, old resentment winning. “I was never really part of that family anyway. I was the wolfless girl they tolerated because their father had married my mother. Nothing more than that.”
“Don’t talk like that,” my mother insisted. “And everyone has matured now. The pack is more… open-minded now.”
I said nothing.
My mother spoke after a few seconds of silence.
“You have to come, Tyra,” she pleaded, her voice softer. “The ceremony calls for the presence of the entire family. It will only take three weeks of your time; after that, you can disappear again.”
My therapist’s words echoed in my head: To move on, you have to face the place where you broke.
Maybe it was time.
“Fine, I’ll come,” I muttered, the words feeling like lead.
“Lu, she said she’ll come!” Anya suddenly shouted, her voice away from the receiver.
My eyes widened in exasperation. “Has Lucius been listening this whole time?”
“Yeah... sorry, sweetheart,” Anya said sheepishly.
I let out a long sigh. “Please keep in mind that I’m coming to only participate in the traditional activities. Do not try to force any family bonding. That ship has sailed”.
“Tyra, we just want—”
“They are your new family, mom. Not mine,” I cut her off firmly.
Anya fell silent for a moment before accepting defeat. “Ok. Your stepfather will send the family jet to pick you up on Saturday. I can’t wait to see you, Tyra”.
“Ok,” I said and ended the call.
I let out a breath, closing my eyes.
I had achieved so much in the human world, but the mere thought of that pack house made me feel like a defect again.
I could handle the whispers. I could handle the cold stares from the pack. But the stepbrothers... Alaric’s icy rejection and Osric’s pity.
“I’m not that weak teenage girl anymore,” I muttered to myself.
But I knew I was lying.
“Oh goddess,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I'm not ready to face them again.”
- Writer
