Rival Alphas

MIRABEL REDFORD “Mirabel, just die. Die!” My mother screams at me, hitting my head on the damn oven over and over. It hurts. It is so painful. Why can’t she just cut it and bake it in the oven? Crying and asking her to stop isn't an option here. I have gotten accustomed to her striking me every time we cross paths. It is her beautiful way of telling me I should die. Of her saying she loves me to death. Well, I support her fully. But no! Werewolves who suffer don’t die easily, no matter what, we heal quickly. Such a blessing from the moon goddess. We are in the kitchen’s pack, I woke up a little bit late today and hadn’t gotten around to mopping the kitchen before mom came. 5AM. Yeap. Late!!! I didn’t get to sleep, I swear I closed my eyes and two minutes later Juniper, my wolf screamed at me that we should wake up before mum woke up to come and bake. Yes, mom still bakes, she says it calms her. I wish she had stuck on making biscuits, mom these days, or rather, Alpha Debra makes cakes for the pack for breakfast. The pack devours it without complaining. I thank heavens I have never gotten around to eating it because she always makes sure the cakes finish at the table. The cake is unfathomable and inedible. No one in the pack dares to mention it, after all, she is the alpha, and what the alpha says, goes. If she asks you to eat stone, you better eat it. “Clean the oven, again. If I come and find any spot, I will kill you.” Mom kicks me and heads out. This is my life now, that she-wolf who used to have a dream of becoming the greatest alpha of all time was reduced to a servant by her mother. It has been five years ever since Dad died, I don’t want to recall what happened that day and the next day and the years that followed till today, what I know is that if I hadn’t gotten lost inside that green/blue-eyed animal I would have saved dear dad. Now, I am more of an orphan, mom doesn’t allow me to call her mom but Alpha Debra like everyone. Mom spends most of her day torturing me and reminding me I am the reason dad succumbed. Sometimes, when no one is looking, and I am lurking around to avoid the loneliness I call friend, I swear I always see mom’s eyes glinting with the glory that she is the alpha and has everyone under her palm. I think Alpha Debra is glad Alpha Redford is dead and she isn’t the Luna anymore. It is not like when dad was alive she was the Luna, behind scenes, mom was the alpha. Mom wrote dad's speech even when dad was a great speaker. Mom used to tell dad what and what not to wear. At night, when we were the only ones, mom would tell dad which pack to close a deal with and which not to. I never knew if the pack knew and kept quiet or if they just didn’t know. But what I always knew was dad knew and let her have her way. Till now, I don’t know if it was because of their mate's bond or because he trusted she had the best interest of the pack. * Speaking of mates, I don’t have mine yet. How could I get one when I spend all my time in the basement or cleaning the packs’ s**t? Everyone always points at me, agreeing with mom that I killed their beloved alpha. I swear if it were up to mom, she would return to the death scene and gather evidence to prove that I killed dad. She never gave me the time to explain what had happened that fateful night. No one did. They all agreed and even some of the wolves claimed I was jealous because my dad had his wolf and I didn’t. Hell, some of them came up with stories saying they remembered me staring at dad with malice and revenge. If only, I remember staring at dad with adoration and love. “Go and clean my bedroom, don’t steal anything while you are there.” Airlia, mom’s beta, but most of the time, she is more of mom’s b***h tells me. Oh, have mercy on me. She can see I am scrubbing the kitchen floor but she wants me to leave and clean her bedroom. Who does she think she is? She has nothing. She is wearing mom’s clothes for heavens’ sake. “Did you roll your eyes at me?” She yells, then pushes me to the ground. I want to take the mopper and hit her with it but I can’t, not when I know she will beat the crap out of me in seconds. Juniper tells me she is trying to rile me up. Oh, have I mentioned I got my wolf two years after dad passed? It is called Juniper, the wolf is as lazy as they come, it is weak and sometimes I wish I hadn’t got it to begin with. Just recalling when I got it sends chills down my beaten spine. The pain, the cracking of bones. Sigh! “Seriously?” My wolf whines. “Hey, the moon goddess gives you what she knows you can handle.” “Oh, you wish,” I reply and pick my ass from the floor. Arlia thinks I am speaking to her, she slaps me on the back and then walks away, not before promising she will inform my mother I have grown two heads. I ignore her and finish mopping, for heavens’ sake, it is still early, why did she wake up? It is not like she does anything more than wipe mom’s ass. My dad’s beta, Beta Sawyer does more than her. If it had been up to me, I would have chosen him as the alpha, most of the werewolves are with me when it comes to this, however, no one dares speak up. I finish mopping, clean the oven, and head to clean mom’s bedroom. I find her speaking with Airlia, “Alpha Debra, what is this killer doing here?” She fires. My mom waves at me with pure irritation, “go bake.” I hate baking, unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of saying this. I despise it because I constantly overhear the pack saying it is a way of a mom trying to get closer to me. And do you know what happens after I have baked? Mom humiliates me by asking me to use it as a body oil, and by the time I am done, I would be covered in flour and oil everywhere. After, the whole pack would mock and call me names. Do I deserve this? * I baked as fast as I could, I want to finish and relax my damn mind. I have some plans to carry out today, I must head to the forest to practice, it has been a long since I stretched my legs. I will just lie to mom I have gone to fetch firewood. She will agree, saying, “put your lame weak wolf into work.” I overhear murmurs, and then mom comes into sight with Beta Sawyer, they are speaking about the upcoming ceremony, the one ceremony I hate with my guts. Beta Sawyer makes eye contact with me, his eyes telling me he is sorry. I tell him I am sorry too, I have to be, he was dad’s best friend. Moreover, he isn’t annoying anymore. He is the only one who doesn’t embarrass me. Alpha Debra pushes me aside, still speaking to Beta Sawyer as if I am nothing. And for the first time in my pathetic life, she puts the dough into the oven. My eyes go wide, and I stay still instead of scurrying off before she finds a reason to lament me, Why am I always stuck? “What are you doing here? Go wash Beta’s bedroom.” Alpha Debra orders when she sees me standing. “It is okay, Alpha Debra, it is clean, she washed it yesterday.” Beta Sawyer says. This is his way of saying he cares, but my mom has other plans, she growls at him, he looks away and I am sure it is not because he is scared of her, but rather because he fears he might do something he isn’t supposed to. I walk away hastily, before I reach the door, something hits me on the back, I turn around, and it is a cup. “Lawn outside, I don’t want to see any grass when I come outside.” Other wolves can do this but Alpha Debra has a way of showing me that I should never rest. If one task is over, she will give me another. I wonder why she hasn’t leashed me and make sure I tag along with her to the bathroom and lick her ass clean. The pack roll their eyes as they pass by while I lawn. The White Moon Pack’s compound is large and by the time I am done, I want to crawl into a hole and rest my shoulders. I duck behind a tree when I see Alpha Debra walking towards me with Beta Sawyer, she has never spent more time with him like this, I guess it is because of the upcoming ceremony and this is her way of showing she cares about his input. They walk past me, my breath hitches when mom starts calling me, luckily, Beta Sawyer tells her, “every pack is looking forward to the ceremony. You are great alpha.” He is kissing her ass for me, I thank heavens when mom looks his way and they walk past me as he continues showering her with praise after praise. Standing, I get down again. It is Airlia. “You belong to the ground.” She snarls. I stand and push past her, I never spend my breath on her, because one, I have work to do and two, it would be useless to speak back to someone who sees you as nothing. I head back to the packhouse and for the rest of the morning, I mop and dust. You know, the normal things the alpha’s daughter does? Yeap. At noon, I stretch my body, my bones crack, and my wolf yells that I should do it again, I roll my eyes and remove some beans and meat from the fridge. I cook it with rice. Arranging the lunch on the table, I overhear everyone praising the cake they had in the morning. They whisper to each other, “did Alpha Debra take new baking classes?” Oh, no. This is bad! This is bad! I want to run to them and inform them to shut up, if mom hears them praising my cake, I will be screwed. I walk towards them, “excuse me.” “What do you want, murderer?” “Will you…” I don’t get to finish because someone breaks a glass plate on my head. I groan as pain travels all over my body, I turn around and find it is Airlia, for the love of hell, is this she-wolf following me around? My jaw clenches in anger, I move to her, this is the day I am going to… Oops! Nevermind! Scratch that. Someone kneads me from behind, I fall on my face on the top of the glass, it pierces through my face, I overhear them laughing and Airlia telling them to go and serve themselves. I pick the glass from the ground and go to throw them out. I stay hidden for about two hours and when I am sure they are done eating, I return to clean up. I stop at the door when I hear a wolf telling Alpha Debra, “as always, the cake was great.” Oh, come on, for the love of my broken sanity, why wouldn’t the wolf let go? Alpha Debra replies, “thank you, thank you.” Clap! Clap! “You should hide.” Beta Sawyer whispers. I look down as he heads inside. He is right but I can’t hide. I head inside and gather the utensils, I wash them, and mom comes in, and I am telling you, if eyes could kill, I would be on my way to purgatory already. She sneers at me, I want to ask her why she let me bake, but don’t get around it because she turns on her heels and leaves me in the kitchen pondering where I should hide and for how long. Those eyes sent me a message. Dear tomorrow, can I see you? I am so dead!