Broken Wolf and the Dominant Alpha

Life had been easy before, as though all had been predetermined before Hazel ever knew what being a wolf was like, and being born into a robust wolf pack with a high ranking family meant that doors were easy to open, respect came without trying, and food was never something she had to think about. It was her life once, and she had lived in it without giving it a second thought, without ever pausing to wonder how it could so easily be taken away. Then all had changed in one night, and it never had been the same thereafter. Her father was dead in defense of the Alpha, and suddenly, as though it had had neither a beginning nor an ending, everything they possessed was seized, hefty and sudden as a stroke. The next day, they were held in high regard and the minute after, they were looked down upon as though they did not matter at all. She had never seen her mother work, up to that day, since she had met her mate when quite young, and shortly after Hazel was born she was home and her father did all the rest, and that was all they needed. But since his death there have been no more. It was five years later and Hazel still did not know why her mother continued to go, because she had looked into her eyes and she could see that something inside her was broken, and it had never been fully mended. Yet her mother rose each day, and drove on, although it was obvious how much it cost her. Working long hours at barely paying jobs, going from one place to another, doing anything she could, just getting food on the table, the pack stealing everything away from them, she did it. Their house was gone. Their car was gone. Their life was gone. Nothing was left, but a little trailer pushed well out of the way of all the rest, put where the trees were, and no one passed there much. They were lower than the lowest ones now. Occasionally, Hazel asked herself whether they were still regarded as members of the pack or not. Her mother did her best to pretend that all was okay, but Hazel saw the reality on a daily basis. She saw how little she ate, how hard she labored, and how she continued to smile whenever she looked at her. She did this as though Hazel would not see. But Hazel always noticed. And the Alpha of the pack was gone as well. Nothing seemed like him, and his son had taken over. Cold. Proud. Hard. Nothing like the man that her father had sacrificed his life to defend. Her mother repeatedly told her that she had to go, that she had to seek out her own way out somewhere far away out of this place and out of the pack that had deserted them. And she had never wished Hazel to be like her. Hazel never responded to her. She herself could not tell where she would go. The next morning Hazel was woken by the sound of rain against the roof, and as she lay on the couch, gazing out the window at the dark sky on the other side of the small trailer, one could hear the steady beat of the rain pattering upon it. It was wet on the ground below, and the rain, evidently, had no intention of ceasing. She let out a small breath. Naturally, it was raining, she thought to herself. Zivon, stirred in her mind, and limited in tone. "It matches how you feel today." Hazel slowly pushed herself up, heavy with body and made her way to the kitchen, reaching unconsciously to the coffee pot, when something on the table caught her eye. And there was a little vase of fresh flowers that had no place in a place like this. Her hands tickled the petals and then her eyes went to the folded note before her. She took it, and opened it, her eyes wandering lazily over the words within. Happy Birthday, Hazel, I am not sorry that I cannot be with you today, but I hope you could get on to enjoy it. Now you are eighteen years old, and I cannot believe how fast you have grown. I love you. Love Mom. Hazel hesitated a little, and gazed at the note as though it might reveal more were she to continue to gaze at it. She loves us, Zivon whispered in a gentle voice. Hazel exhaled slowly. "We already know that." Still glad to hear it, Zivon responded. Hazel laid the note down with a painstaking precision, and drank a cup of coffee, taking it slowly as the warmth diffused through her. Will you eat, too? Zivon asked. Yes, Hazel replied, but with an uninteresting voice. Rather, she opened a drawer and took out a small pack of cigarettes and walked to the window, pushing it open just enough to light one. Her lungs were filled with smoke as she leaned on the counter. I still can not believe that you took those, Zivon said. You will get into trouble if you are discovered. Hazel looked down the bridge of her eyes. "No one saw me." "You were lucky." "I always am." Zivon did not respond to that. Having completed it, Hazel went to the bedroom and opened the small closet, taking off a pair of old jeans, a black shirt and her boots. There was nothing remarkable in her attire. Nothing was special anymore about her. Anne took her bag and helped herself into a raincoat, and went out, and as she began the long walk to school, the cold rain struck her. It was a lonely, deserted road, and out of the way, and when she came to the building she was wet in spite of the coat. She went in, wiping down some of the water, and then undressed, taking off her coat and putting it into her locker, grabbing her books in a hurry as the time passed. Then she heard them. Footsteps. More than one. Loud. Confidence. She turned and beheld the group going down the hall, faces that she was too familiar with. There were some who used to be close to her. Others had never ventured to feign. They all looked at her now alike. Like she was nothing. Diviningly, she turned her back upon her locker, and tried to keep her eyes shut, yet she had a premonition of things before they happened. The effect was quick as one of the shoulders banged her, and her head hit the metal locker with a sharp blow which temporarily blinded her. The aching occurred all over her face and her mouth was full of blood. Laughter echoed around her. Hazel narrowed her eyes and touched the edge of her face with the fingers of her right hand then withdrew them, and looked at the blood. Asshole, she said in her thoughts. The laughter stopped. Footsteps slowed. Then turned. "What did you just call me?" Hades asked, his voice low. Hazel looked at him in a careless manner. "You heard me." He gave his bag to one of the people next to him, and walked closer, attempting to come over her, but he was not able. Careful, they should, he said to himself. Other people would say that you are asking to be in trouble. His hand was going on to her face, brushing aside her hair. Hazel hit it aside at once. His hands then caught her before she could have any chance to move, and in another slap against the lockers, she was hurled back against the small crowd who started to gather. "Do not touch me," she growled. He smirked. "You forget where you stand." "Go to hell." His hand left a blow on her face, so sharp that she felt her head snatching aside as the pain spread over her skin. You believe that you can speak to me in that way? With a wiping movement, Hazel turned and rubbed the blood off her lip. "You are standing too close." She had struck him hard on the nose before he could act, and he was repulsed. She did not stop. She caught him by the hair and hit his head against the locker, and then kicked her knee into his stomach and then another blow dispatched him to the floor. Silence fell for a moment. Then movement. His friends stepped forward. Hazel did not step back. "What is going on here?" a loud voice called at the far end of the hall. The crowd broke up on the spot. Hazel lifted his eyes and beheld Principal Grayson coming their way. This girl mauled him," said Quinn hastily. Hazel looked at her, and her breasts compressed a little. Quinn did not look at her. Grayson sighed. "Take him to the nurse." They pulled Hades out and Hazel was left standing there as Grayson shifted his gaze to her. "What do you have to say?" he asked. Hazel shrugged slightly. "Would you listen?" "Office. Now." Hazel shut her locker, and after no further message came from her side, she followed him. As she entered, she paused. Waiting was Beta Levi. "What is going on?" Hazel asked. "You are coming with me," he said. "I have class." "Are you refusing?" Hazel stayed silent. In a few minutes, she was in his car and the ride was silent as they drove across town until they could see the packhouse, her stomach knotting as she got out. Nothing had changed. Everything looked the same. The halls seemed, inward, as familiar and as distant as always as she was led to one of the large wooden doors. A knock. A voice from inside. "Enter." Hazel stepped in. It was a large office with costly furniture and at the back of the desk sat Alpha Lycaon. He looked up. Their eyes met. Something shifted. The air was oppressive, and it seemed to squeeze her, and she felt her head was spinning a little. Then it hit her. His scent. Strong. Overwhelming. Zivon was tumbling and toiling within her. "Do you feel that?" she whispered. She had the chair beside her, and Hazel held on. Her voice barely came out. "Mate?"