Page 5 of Ravaged Wolf
“His father is an HVAC technician. Did you know that?”It’s my mother’s turn. “His mother doesn’t even work. She’s gone into heatfive times.” Mom clicks her cheek, and I think it’s supposed to sound like pity, but it’s clearly criticism.
“This is terrible timing, Izzy.” My father jumps in. “You couldn’t have waited until the end of the quarter? Two more weeks?” He blows his cheeks out and lifts his gaze to the ceiling, beseeching Fate for a better daughter. “That’s all I need. Two damn weeks.”
What happens in two weeks? It takes my slow brain a second to remember. End of quarter performance reviews. Dad’s been hanging his hopes on this one. The male above him has been approved for a transfer, so there’s a rare opening in his department. It would mean a raise, a new title, an office instead of a cubicle, and possibly, better housing. Up in the twenties floor. Maybe even the thirties.
My mouth drops open. How could I have forgotten the promotion? Dad’s been talking about nothing else at dinner for months.
“I see you’re finally thinking about someone other than yourself,” my mom says. “Your timing could not be worse.”
I didn’t choose this. Everyone knows you don’t pick your mate or when you go into heat.
“And you didn’t even have the courtesy of telling us so that we could think about damage control. I had to find out from Aunt Catrin. At least Brynn talks tohermother.” Mom swings her crossed leg and juts her chin forward so the tendons in her neck stretch taut so that I understand just how frustrated I’ve made her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Dad says. I could have predicted his line in my sleep.
I say sorry.
Sorry doesn’t cut it.
I say I won’t do it again.
If you meant that, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
“Do you understand what position this puts your father in? How hard he’s worked to get this opportunity? And it’s all in jeopardy now.” Like always, Mom is Dad’s mouthpiece, barking and snapping so he can sit there with his head high, his dominance not the least undermined by whatever’s gone wrong underhisroof.
I used to think that she did it because she loved him, and I wondered why she didn’t defend me like that, whether that meant she didn’t love me as much. I only figured out recently that she’s defending herself, supporting him as a way to declare that she’s on his side, she’s not the enemy, she’s not the one to blame.
She’s as scared of his wolf as I am.
“Well, do you get it?” my father thunders, his red face splotching like it does right before the vein on his forehead pops. “Because that stupid look on your face doesn’t assure me that you getanything.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Really?” He stalks forward so he can tower over me and make my wolf cower and whimper in my chest. “I think you don’t care about this family at all. I’m surprised you didn’t go face down, ass up the first whiff you got of him. That’s what I’d expect from you. No discipline. No consideration for anyone but yourself.”
He paces back and forth, his wingtips leaving slight indentations in the carpet that disappear in seconds. I stare at the marks and try to scour the wordsface down, ass upout of my brain.
Mom crosses her arms, her bracelets clinking. “Have you even thought about how this will impact your father? Geralt Powell is going to have a field day, mark my words. He’ll make all kinds of nasty insinuations about our bloodlines and whether your father’s fit for leadership considering howlow his offspring has sunk. Geralt’s been angling for this role foryears.”
Geralt Powell has a bunch of kids with a scavenger female that he keeps down in the bogs while he lives in the Tower with a ranked female he treats like his mate. I wish I could say it’s hard to imagine a male like him having the audacity to go after my dad about bloodlines, but that’s how the High Rise works. That’s how this whole pack works.
We act like skill sets and talent and merit and ethics matter, but it’s all about who your grandfather was and who you can force to bend their neck, and it doesn’t matter how you do it.
Sometimes I have nightmares that I’m skidding down a slippery slide, my fingers scrabbling for a handhold while gravity and my own paralyzed weight flushes me away into dark nothingness.
In a way, this all feels predetermined. Of course, I was going to mate a low-ranking male. Fate has been telling me every day in a hundred ways that I can’t hack it, and it’s only a matter of time before I get thrown onto the bottom of the heap. I’m supposed to be afraid, but in this moment, I’m just tired. If I was on that slide, I’d let go.
“There’s nothing I can do about it,” I mumble.
“Nothing you can do?” Dad barks. “Par for the course with you!”
He roars, letting his fangs descend and his fur sprout so it tufts out of his cuffs and collar. A jolt of fear hits my veins, immobilizing me, crushing my elbows tight to my sides and rooting my wolf to the spot.
Like she always does, Mom hops up from the sofa to rub his shoulders, desperately trying to avert the inevitable, but I can see his wolf yellowing his eyes. I dart a glance at the front door. Can I get out before he catches me? Could I make it to the stairs?
521.
