Page 66 of Pack Fever

“Beautiful girl, you can do nothing wrong in my eyes. And yeah, my upbringing was fucked up.”

Her gaze softens as she rests her chin on my chest, staring up at me.

So, I keep talking, not giving her the chance to give me any pity. It’s not why I’m sharing this with her. It’s for her to understand my behavior and to not be afraid. That’s the last thing I want.

“My uncle wasn’t a great role model. You see, my dad passed away when I was young, then my mom went and married my uncle. The guy was a fucking monster. He used to beat her, take our money, and kick the life out of me any chance he got. He needed no excuse… when I tried to protect my mom, when I got bad grades, when I looked at him wrong. Once, he went off because I stepped on the creaking floorboard in our place.” I shrug, swallowing back the memories rising through me like acid.

Some nights he’d been so drunk, I swore that night would be my last. The fucking bastard never used weapons, so that he didn’t leave deep marks. Only his fists, and always when no one was looking.

My memories tunnel in on the night of my sixteenth birthday when Mom questioned him about their empty, shared bank account, saying she’d intended to take the family out for my birthday. I had no clue what was wrong with the man, but it set him off. He came at me like a bulldozer, shouting that our lives were dictated by a shit like me. Then he lost his mind.

I can never forget the sting of his strikes, the cruel hits of his punches, the kicks. Each blow was a promise to eliminate me.

Of course, I fought back, my small fists striking him. I saw my death in his eyes, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going down without fighting. It hurt like hell, and it seemed to encourage him to beat me brutally.

My vision blurred in and out when my mom finally intervened. She screamed at him to stop, throwing a chair into his back to stop him. But when fury took that man, nothing could stop him.

I remember her shouting at him to leave me alone. I stumbled to my feet, every inch of me screaming with pain, one of my eyes shut closed from how badly he hit me. Blood dripped from my broken nose, my side stung, and I knew he’d broken my ribs.

But the moment my uncle pivoted toward my mother, shuddering with blind rage, I forgot about my pain. He charged at her, slamming her up against the wall and holding her by her throat. She writhed and beat her fists into his arms while the fucker was choking her.

I screamed.

But he wouldn’t release her, even after she went limp and passed out.

Adrenaline barreled into me as I charged my uncle, the momentum and force throwing us both crashing into the dining table. It collapsed under our weight, legs snapping. In that chaos, he managed to pick up a broken table leg and turned to me.

The man I stared at wasn’t my uncle, but a madman consumed by fury, by the need to destroy. And I stood in his way.

Me, a tall but skinny boy, facing off an Alpha twice my size. I stood no chance.

“Boy, you are about to learn a hard lesson about growing the fuck up and stopping being a mommy’s boy.” Then he came at me, swinging that table leg.

I ducked, and by some miracle, I swooped out of his way. But he pivoted and swung fast, his weapon connecting across the back of my legs.

Sharpness cut through me, my muscles spasming, my knees giving out. I cried out, hitting the floor face-first. I rolled over fast, using my arms to propel me out of the way. Good thing, too, as his wooden weapon crashed to the floor where I’d been seconds earlier with a death blow.

I kicked out, my heel colliding with his jewels. He grunted, whimpered, then tumbled down on me. Yet even then, he’d managed to grab my throat with fingers like iron.

Fear pummeled me.

We tumbled in a fight, me grasping for a weapon near us. My fingers touched something sharp, and I snatched it. Then I flung it at his face. He moved out of the way, and the sharp piece of wood in my grasp slammed right into his neck.

Blood burst out like a pipe. I’d hit a major artery.

He yelled, clutching his neck.

He rocked off me, releasing me.

I shoved to my feet. Panic and scared to death, I ran to my mother. Falling to my knees to where she remained slumped, lifeless on the floor, I was shaking uncontrollably. Panic gripped my chest as I groaned desperately.

“Mom!”

She never responded. Her chest wasn’t moving with breath, and I frantically checked her pulse.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

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