Trigger.
1289 Words
Got inside and saw my parents and Eira at the dining table. I shut the door behind me.
Mom stood up and rushed over to me. “Where have you been? Are you okay? I've been looking all over the place for you? Why did you switch off your phone? Why did you just leave without telling us where you were?!”
My mother was still wearing the same gown as before. It's not as if I just left. I just don't want to see any of them. And besides, I had just left Fred a couple of hours ago. I was by myself all day. I needed some time alone. To clear my head and to think properly. What happened to me yesterday was sort of weighing me down. I had never felt like this before. Sleep with someone and become restless. I just can't wait to see her tomorrow. To know what is going on.
What the hell is happening to me?
“I just went out to get some air.” I said instead, hoping this doesn't escalate any further.
“This is past 10 p.m. Your mother was worried sick about you,” my father said, his voice low but sharp.
I raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.
He continued, “You could’ve at least told her where you went.”
“I’m 21,” I muttered. “Not a kid anymore.”
“And yet you still live under your mother’s roof. At least learn some damn respect.”
I scoffed. “Glad you said her roof. Not yours.”
His brows twitched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
My mother stepped in fast, placing herself between us as my father shot to his feet, the tension crackling in the room like lightning in a bottle.
“Enough, both of you,” she said, voice firm, trying to be the anchor in a storm.
But it was too late.
“I don’t f*****g know what you meant, Ezra,” my father growled. “So go ahead. Explain it.”
“I wouldn’t,” I snapped, jaw tight. My fists clenched at my sides as the heat surged up my spine. Both our eyes flashed a deep, violent purple, glowing with the ancestral rage passed down in our bloodline.
Alpha blood. Hybrid tempers.
And we were seconds from crossing a line we shouldn’t cross.
“Ezra, don't.” Eira stood up from the chair in a worried tone.
“Shut up!” I roared, my voice thick with rage, laced with my wolf’s fury. A full-throated growl that rattled the air, vibrating through the walls. I lunged at Eira, claws out. My vision blurred red.
“Ezra, stop!” my mother roared behind me, in a desperate tone.
My father caught me from behind, locking his arms around my chest to restrain me. I snarled and gritted my teeth, struggling against his grip. With a sharp twist, I slashed my claws backward.
He ducked just in time, spun around, and kicked my arm hard, knocking me off balance. I stumbled back, landing hard against the wall, breath heaving. My arm throbbed from the blow. I couldn't breathe right. My chest was tight, like something was crushing it from the inside. Hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My wolf was losing it, clawing at the walls inside my head.
“You’ve lost it,” she whispered. “You’re out of control.”
Everything burned, my skin, my eyes, my throat. I wanted to rip something apart. To scream, but my jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I was angry.
Furious.
Eira stood frozen, eyes wide, lips trembling, but still defiant. Blood trickled from a slight scratch on her arm. I hadn’t even realized.
“I knew this would happen.” She spoke.
I growled low, gritting my teeth. “Don’t push me, Eira.”
“Enough!”
My mother snapped, stepping between us, arms spread. “Ezra, look at yourself!” And let down her arms.
“You think being Alpha means you can hurt anyone when you’re angry?” My father said, standing beside my mother now, his voice hard. “You’ve got power, but no discipline.”
“You are one to talk.” I cursed out. “Don't tell me what to do.”
“You’ve got rage inside you,” he said, his voice still firm. “If you don’t let it out the right way, it’s going to eat you alive.”
I’d stepped out of line. Lost control. I shouldn’t have lunged at Eira like that. I can’t stand feeling this angry, especially over things I can’t explain.
“What do you even know about me?”
“I know enough,” he replied, eyes locked on mine. “Rage blinded you. Bloodlust. You nearly attacked your own sister. I warned you. Don’t shift when you’re that close to snapping.”
“How am I supposed to know I’m that close?!” I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. “It’s not like there’s a f*****g warning bell in my head!”
“Then learn to feel it. Learn to control it. Because if you don’t… one day, you’ll hurt someone for real. And the damage won’t just be physical. It’ll leave a scar you can’t undo.”
I clenched my jaw. “Leave me the f**k alone.”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer… and then, to my surprise, dropped on one knee in front of me.
“What are you so afraid of, Ezra?” he asked quietly. “Did you… come across a Pureblood?”
My heart sank.
How the hell did he know that?
I stared at him, my body frozen. No, he shouldn’t know. He shouldn’t even ask. This wasn’t his business. He shouldn’t be involved in my life like this, not now.
I forced a frown. “A pureblood?”
“Yes,” he answered, too calmly. “A pureblood.”
He wasn’t guessing. He was certain.
“Usually, you don’t get like this,” he continued. “You act annoyed, irritated, sure — but this?” He shook his head. “You brushed past your mother like she was nothing and tried to rip your sister apart. That’s not just anger. Something has triggered your instincts.”
He was right.
Why did I skip past Mom and go straight for Eira? Something about that moment had me twisted. My instincts got scrambled, and my wolf took over.
“There’s something going on,” he said, standing now, “and you’re not telling me.”
He wasn’t wrong. But how could I explain something I barely understood? And what does my father actually know about purebloods? Why does he think I might have encountered one?
You see, I didn’t quite grow up in a happy home. My mother tried. She raised us as best as she could. She tried to keep the peace. Smile through the pain. But my father? He was barely around. And when he was… he made her cry.
A lot.
I grew up watching that.
Watching her try to hold everything together while he tore it down. That’s why I grew up disliking him. Maybe even hating him a little.
My mother is a werewolf. A strong one. My father? Half-wolf. Half-human. Some say he is a demon.
Before I was born, he felt like a disgrace. Said he wasn’t enough. Not like his full-blooded brothers. So he trained harder. Pushed himself until he earned the highest rank. He won the title, but it never healed the crack in him. He ended up with my mother, who had once been his stepsister.
- Writer
