The Alpha King

Prologue

There's really no nice way to start my story. So let's just get down to business. 

My mother (a human0 died during childbirth with me. My father and older sister were really doting, loving people... er, werewolves ... But then, my house caught fire when I was five, and I was the only survivor. I was sent into foster care, and then brought in by a seemingly nice family by the time I was eight. 

But the husband was a druggie and the wife was an alcoholic. There was three other children in the house with me. Right before my ninth birthday, the woman took two of the children out on a walk. She came back; they didn't. 

I wasn't old enough to understand any of this. I wasn't old enough to understand why they would hurt me and Jameson, the only other remaining child with me. He was thirteen while I was nine and he acted like an older brother. 

I was around eleven when they found out what I was was. I wasn't an omega, I was more than half human and only a little bit of wolf, one of the lowest ranks in a pack. They debated on whether or not leaving me out with the rogues for days. Until Jameson stepped in. He saved me, but also destroyed me. I was a servant in my now adopted parents eyes. 

But then on my thirteenth birthday, Jameson got assigned his first duty. By werewolf standards, Jameson was an adult and he had to move away, he tried to take me with him, but he couldn't. I was happy for Jameson, I really was, but I couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of betrayal when he left. I know he had no say in the matter but that still makes me feel guilty for feeling betrayed. I had no right after all he had done for me. 

I remember the exact day I almost died. I was starving, my body was close to it's breaking point. I was already half dead. I had snuck down to the kitchen in the middle of the night. Earlier I had made the woman and the man food and had to sit and watch them devour it as I sat in the corner, starved. They called me names, laughed at me, and made me feel horrible about everything. I was so hungry when I packed their half eaten meal away that all I could think about was eating this food. 

I had sat under the kitchen table with a fork and the left over spaghetti, trying to eat as quietly as i could. I was so absorbed in eating and doing it quietly that I hadn't even heard Mrs. Cox approach my hiding spot.

She had grabbed me by the hair and drug me out from under the table.

"Why you ungrateful little bitch," she screeched. I tried to escape her clutches but she held fast on my hair. I only weighed seventy-two pounds and this woman was huge, She dragged me to her knife set. I screamed and screamed and screamed. She was obviously very drunk today, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to escape her.

I stopped trying to fight her as soon as she pinned me to the floor. She stretched my right arm out and pinned it by the wrist. I couldn't do anything as she carved the words 'Ungrateful' into my arm. on the other arm, she carved thief. And then she stabbed me through the side, in the little fatty area that I had. 

I couldn't move without causing myself pain, so I just laid there as I slowly bled out. 

This was the first time my wolf appeared in my head. She whispered soothing things in my mind, calming me down, keeping me awake. At the time, I didn't care that there was a voice in my head. All I knew was that she was slowly healing me. After a few more minutes, all that was left of my cuts were faint scars. So faint, you could only see the words if you really looked hard. 

I tried to avoid the Cox' as much as I could as I grew older. Some days it worked; some days it didn't.

i tried thinking that some people had it worse, and honestly, that didn't help me. I hoped and prayed for whoever had it worse than me, and I hoped that they had someone like I had Jameson. 

Now that I've finished my sob story, let's start with the good parts.