Before The Shift.
1299 Words
The neckline sits just above her cleavage. On her feet were black diamond-studded slippers, matching her usual attention to detail.
Monica’s long, dark red hair fell down her back in soft waves. Neatly shaped eyebrows and sharp features, particularly her pointed nose and high cheekbones, complemented her face. Her gray eyes always stood out, accentuated by the thin black liner she wore beneath them. She always had her makeup done just right, nothing too heavy, just enough to complement the natural angles of her face.
She’s been my friend since childhood. A good one, honestly. Loyal, fierce when it counts, and always there when I need her. But she also has a way of being irritating when I don’t have the patience for it. Sometimes I wonder how her future husband is going to deal with her.
Then there’s Frederick—Fred, as we call him. He’s also been around since the beginning. Another alpha, but the complete opposite of Monica in some ways. Fred’s quiet. He doesn’t talk unless he has something to say, but he pays attention to everything. He’s the type to catch things others miss. We’ve always been close. He’s more than a friend.
He’s like a brother, even when we don't talk to each other as much.
Together, the three of us have a history. We’ve seen each other through a lot, and even now, they’re two of the few people I know I can trust, annoying habits and all.
“Nothing.” I denied. I didn’t want to talk about it. Monica will exaggerate everything and say some annoying things I don’t want to hear.
I can't believe a pureblood is here.
“Are you sure?” She looked suspiciously at me. “Why are you holding your arm like that?”
I realized I was still holding my arm. I dropped it at my side with a long sigh.
“Monica, drop it.” Fred stopped her. “He said it was nothing.”
He is light-skinned. Almost six feet tall. He wore white shorts, a loose green designer shirt, white socks, and sneakers. A small black bag hung over his shoulder. His build is lean but solid. Light tattoos cover both arms.
He has dreadlocks that fall over his shoulders. Curved eyebrows, black eyes, sharp features. A pointed nose, jawline, and smooth lips. His voice is deep and calm.
Our families aren’t that close, but they get along.
“I did nothing wrong.” She defended along with a smirk. “I just want to know if he’s got a girl on him.” She covered her mouth as she giggled.
I shook my head and walked past her. Fred moved along with me.
“Oh, come on.” She ran after us. “You are an Obsidian. The son of Gifford. The handsomest alpha in the whole college. Of course, you must have someone you like.”
“Wanna go to a club?” I asked Fred. He smiled with a nod.
“I’m coming too. Take me with you.” She grabbed my arm and Fred’s as she stayed in between us. “I’m gonna blow up the whole place.”
“Don’t get too drunk this time.” Fred warned. “You can’t go to the club if you get drunk again.”
“Oh, come on. You are such a buzzkill. What’s a club for if you can’t get drunk?!”
After school was over, we had food to eat and had a couple of conversations. Once it was evening, I went to the club along with them. I can’t recall what happened, but the last scene I remembered was shoving myself inside an unknown Omega.
My head was splitting.
It felt like someone was hammering behind my eyes, and my throat was dry like I’d swallowed dust.
I coughed. Again and again, my throat made a gulp sound.
I cracked my eyes open and squinted at the light pouring in through the curtains. It was way too bright. Must’ve been past noon already. I was still in my clothes, jeans twisted around my legs.
My room.
Thank God.
Wait. How did I get here? Where’s Fred and Monica? No way! I rubbed my forehead. They are definitely going to get an earful from their parents.
Were they caught? Or was I?
My mom would definitely nag me. I groaned and rubbed my face. My head felt like crap. A soft knock hit the door before it opened. I didn’t even have the energy to respond.
“Ezra,” my mom’s voice called gently.
She walked in, holding a tray with a bowl of soup. Steam rose from it, and the smell hit me right away, warm and the smell of ginger. She set it down beside me.
“Hey, Mom.” My voice also changed too. What kind of drink did I take last night that had this much effect on me? How many bottles? Glasses?
“You look terrible,” she muttered, brushing my hair out of my face like I was ten again. She wore a cream dress with small blue flowers. It fit her just right and moved softly when she walked. She put her hair up neatly, leaving a few strands to fall around her face.
I sat up slowly, wincing. “Hungover.” I took the tray and put it on my lap, grabbed a spoon alongside the bowl and stirred it.
“What were you doing at the club?!” she demanded, crossing her arms underneath her chest.
Braila Obsidian. Luna of the Obsidian Sigil pack. She is my mother. She gets strict when we don’t behave.
“I just asked you a question.”
“Mom, not now.” I grumbled, drinking a few sips.
“Not now??” she reacted. “Can you hear yourself?”
“Mom!”
“Do you know how you came here yesterday, Ezra?” she wouldn’t drop it. I tried to keep my head up, ignoring the pounding drum inside my head.
“What do you mean?” That drew my attention.
“You mean you don’t remember what happened last night?!”
“No, I don’t.” I shook my head. “What happened?!”
Did I punch someone again? And I got reported to my parents while I was drunk. Where were Fred and Monica?
“Have you two met?” My mother’s eyes lowered as she sat down. Did something happen?
“Met who? What are you talking about?”
“Someone called Mom with your phone and told her what hotel you were at. Mom and I went to pick you up this morning.” My sister, Eira, walked through the door as she kept talking. “Mom tried locating the person who called, but we couldn’t trace their location.” She kept explaining. “So, we assumed it was someone you slept with.” She thought for a second. “What I don’t understand is why she called us to come pick your ass up?”
My phone? No one knows the password to my phone. Except for Fred.
"It was a woman." I mumbled.
"Nope. The voice of a girl." Eira responded.
Eira is a year older.
She’s 5 '7, slim with a bit of a curve. She wore a red sweater that stopped above her knees and had a turtleneck. Black leather pants and short boots finished the look.
She had a black chest belt across her front, holding a small gun and silver bullets. Her face was oval, lips thin, and her black eyes were sharp. She had short black hair that curved slightly at the ends, brushing her face. A thin line of black eyeliner under her eyes gave her a catlike look.
- Writer
