The Hand That Beats You

Chapter 5

THIS ONES A BIG ONE

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• Grayson •

Being the chief warrior, my dad had hundreds of meetings he was constantly going to. He would go over border patrol with Alpha Tyrone, would make sure that everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing or what they needed to do to improve protection around the pack. When I was younger, he would have to take me to the meetings because he didn't want to leave me alone with a sitter. Back when I still smelled too much like his mate and his grief was still fresh.

I used to love those meetings. Liked watching everyone circle around the table and point at little figures on the maps. I remember wriggling in my fathers arms until he was forced to put me down. Azrael was there too, quietly watching his dad work. More than once I tried to talk to him, but he would just look down or scoot closer to the Alpha. Sometimes he would look at me curiously, like I was something different from him. I wonder if he remembered that.

Once the lingering scent of my mother faded, Pa had absolutely no issue with leaving me completely alone in the house for hours at a time, even at only five years old.

Imagine my surprise when I found out it was considered neglect when I was twelve.

"Grayson."

A shiver crawls down my spine. Like second nature, I stiffen my back and lower my head as I open the door. "I'm almost done," I whisper.

"Hurry up," Dad snaps. He doesn't stand there long enough to relish my flinch.

I close it slowly and rush to the dresser I had, grabbing the black dress pants I was supposed to wear. It tangles around my feet and I nearly fall over. Cursing the clothes to hell and back, I quickly pop in the buttons on the sleek emerald long sleeve. Not once would you ever hear me say I liked dressing like this. It was a pure nuisance.

"Grayson!" Lydia shrieks.

I recoil from the ear-piercing sound and rip open the door. "Yeah?"

She's near tears, even though she's wearing her favorite purple dress; a puffy tulle that made her 'feel like a princess'. "Mama said she can't do my hair. Can you?"

"Oh. Of course, angel. What do you want?"

"The plant name thingy."

"Cornrows?"

"Yeah, corn thingy."

Shit, that would take a while. Lydia was obsessed with that hairstyle. She had loved it from the second she saw someone in a magazine wear it. It took me weeks to learn how to do it the way she liked-specifically stitch braids.

"Um, angel, that's going to take really long and we don't really have time..."

Her lip wobbles dangerously.

Fuck.

Mentally berating myself for being weak to her tactics, I call out, "Lydia wants me to do her hair but it's going to take a while!"

"It better not!" Thomas roars at the same moment Annabelle coos, "Aww, he's doing her hair."

I hear my father grumble before shouting, "You have twenty minutes!"

I scoop Lydia up, making her squeal and giggle as I rush her to the bathroom. "Big pieces or little ones?"

"Uhhh-"

"We only have twenty minutes," I remind as I snag the comb and gel for her hair. It's already been straightened, so it shouldn't be too hard.

She puts two fingers on her head, leaving a space of about an inch. "Like that."