Page 43 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
I step back, hooking my hands in my pocket, and wait.
It takes a while, but finally I hear footsteps in the hallway and the giant door swings open.
I flip my shades off my face.
Molly.
She frowns at me.
Not the reaction I was expecting. It’s been a long time since my little sister looked up at me with adoration, excitement or joy.
“Axel,” she groans, “so nice of you to show your face.”
Molly was meant to move out of the family house five years ago. But then dad passed and mom got sick and she never left.
“Hey Molly,” I say, stepping forward and kissing her cheek. She lets me although there’s no embrace, no hug. “How are you doing?”
“Do you seriously want to know, Axel? Because if you did, you might have, you know, swung by to say hi or even, god forbid, picked up the phone to check.”
“I’ve been busy.”
She rolls her eyes and rubs her hands on the apron tied around her waist. It leaves two white dusty imprints of her palms.
“What have you been doing?” I ask.
“Baking. It’s my new thing. Helps with the stress and …” she chews her lip, “other things.”
I don’t want to know.
She’s an omega. A couple of years younger than Bea. She should be mated and settled and happy with her own family by now. Instead, she’s living with our mom.
“How is she today? Is she up to seeing me?”
“Oh no, you don’t.” She pinches my shirt sleeve and tugs me deeper into the house. “She’s perfectly well enough to see you. You’re not scarpering away that quickly.”
I nod, my body stiffening. Molly’s eyes flick over me and she frowns at my obvious tension.
“Come on, she’s just in the lounge.”
Still gripping my sleeve, she pulls me along, stopping at the lounge door.
She hesitates, then turns to me. “She just got sick, Axel. She didn’t turn into a monster.”
“I know,” I whisper, my spine so stiff it might snap. “It’s just hard to see her like this.”
My sister frowns even harder and jabs me in the pec.
“Oh, grow up, Axel.” Then, before I can respond, she pushes open the door, sticks her head through and calls out, “Mom, look who’s here. It’s Axel.”
“Axel?” I hear my mom say, her voice sounding frail in the vast room.
I step inside. The day is full of sunshine, but in the lounge the blinds have been pulled down against the bright light and the room sits in semi-darkness, swirls of dust spinning in the few beams that squeeze their way inside.
My mom lies out on one of the chaises, her cardigan hanging from her bony shoulders, a blanket wrapped over her legs, and a remote control resting in her lap. The giant TV is paused, a woman frozen mid-laugh on the screen.
My mom holds her hands out, beckoning me forward and I realize my goddamn feet had halted. I force them to move again.
She looks worse, so much worse than before. Her skin paper thin, her cheeks hollow, her once thick hair thinning.
