~Zeke~
“Was that necessary, Malachi, really?” Uncle James scolds while my father peels his body from the wall that now needs fixing.
“Made me feel better,” Malachi shrugs, holding out his hand. James shakes his head, grabs his hand, pulling him to his feet with a click of his tongue.
“You jealous little scab mongrel, after everything I have done for you! I took you in! I didn’t have to!” my father starts again. He hates being at the losing end of an argument, even when he is wrong.
“To rub your f*****g throne in my face, don’t pretend you did that for me!” Malachi snarls back at him.
“Oh, bullshit, Mal, and you know it. Father wanted you dead. Had I not taken you as my Beta, he would have killed you, along with your mother. I f*****g raised you, you little mutt,” my father sneers.
