Fight Back

Chapter 2: To Tired To Care

                  The flight was so long and uncomfortable; the worst part was how Aiden kept trying to talk to me the whole time. It was hard ignoring a cute boy who is trying to make conversation with you on a 12 hour flight.

            Every time I would try to talk to him my father would yell at me though our family link saying how "I'm being a slut, Do you have any respect for yourself? Or, Do you want to embarrass us?" so the majority of my flight I kept my mouth shut.

         I just looked out the window saying goodbye to the only home I have ever known. I drowned out my own thought by my music, but no matter how loud my music is I can't ignore my wolf crying for the lost of her mother and brother.

         She hasn't really talked to me since the attack happen she is engulf with greif and sorrow, but I can't be mad at her for not talking to me. I guess because I'm jealous of her, she can express herself by crying and being angry while I have to keep my emotion in check and in control. My wolf doesn't care about what others think of her and she whines because my wolf is exactly like my mother stubborn, out-spoken and fearless.

          I use to be like that but the attack changed me. I don't know if I can ever be that person again. That doesn't stop my wolf from crying.

           She is in the corner of my mind weeping her eyes out. She is howling for the lost of her family, and is in full rage on how the only family we do have left treat us like he can't stand being near us.

        My father and I are currently walking though the American airport of LAX. We are looking for someone from the pack to pick us up.

           My father said we could join since he is old friends with the Alpha and beta of the pack, and they said we are welcome to join since my family are one of the best fighters back home.

         We are getting our bags when I sniff the air with a scent of pine and burning wood like from a campfire. I already know it is a werewolf.

          My father grabs my writs a little too rough for my liking, but I stay silent and continue being dragged through the crowds of people in the airport. There is no doubt in my mind that my father notice the scent to, and that we are following the source.

             My father hasn't said a word to me since we got off the plane, but I guess I rather have him quite then him insulting me. If he ever does decide to open his mouth to talk to me.

           We are walking out of the airport still following the scent, but we stop when we see a blonde hair man with a muscular frame who seems to be in his early 40.

           He must be the person here to welcome us since he is standing in front of a black stretch limo holding a sign with cursive handwriting that has our last name on it 'Santiago.'

          My father put on a mask to create an act to show that he is not at all broken and wounded about the fact he has just lost his mate, and his only son in a rouge attack while we are walking up to this man.

        My guess is he's trying to show that he not worthless and weak since pride is a big thing in our world. My father ego has to stay intact on the outside, so nobody can see how broken and lost he really is on the inside.

          "Hello, I'm Stephan Santiago and this is my daughter Maria Santiago."

           My father introude us to the man with a strong handshake that I swear the man hiss in pain.

           "Hello," I say to the man with the fakest smile I can put on my face.

         'Why are you so damn rude and disrespectful! He is your superior as am I. You will speak to him with the upmost respect, so lower your head and curtsy to at least act like I taught you some manners!!"