Mercy and the Merciless Alpha

Chapter Six

Recap:

I crossed the tiny cell and collapsed into the metal slab that was now my bed for the time being, however long that may be. I felt my eyes closing almost instantly out of pure exhaustion but they suddenly snapped open at the sound of a voice from outside my cell.

"Mercy?"

I froze. I knew that voice.

"Weston?"

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I remembered the last conversation I had with my half brother Weston before he ran away like it was yesterday. After years of festering resentment towards me, to say our relationship was strained would be the world's grandest understatement.

I was sixteen and he was fifteen at the time, all of us were sitting around the dinner table in a strange weekly tradition that my father was insistent on making a regular thing. Weston and his mother—the Luna, sat on one side of the table while my mother and I were placed across from them; my father always sat at the head of the table, in the middle of us all as a barrier of sorts.

Weston was glowering down at his plate which was nothing out of the ordinary there. He never spoke at these dinners, really no one ever did except for my father and mother who were seemingly eternally unbothered by the painful awkwardness of the situation.

My father leaned forward suddenly and caught my attention, "I heard from Beta Jameson what you did today, Mercy! Healing a completely broken leg? Absolutely amazing, Merc. I'm so proud."

Involuntarily I winced under his praise, sure it was nice to hear something like that from my dad but he was completely oblivious of the effect that comments like that had on Weston.

It seemed like the vast majority were. Even Weston's mom, while she totally hated me and my mother other than that bitter emotion there was no genuine concern for Weston in the situation. She was consumed by pure jealousy.

During a training session a couple of our wolves got into a skirmish which quickly got out of hand and escalated to genuine, sever injuries. Weston and I were obviously called as we were basically the sole healers of the pack, despite the fact that Weston had yet to truly heal anything significantly.

Once we arrived it was even more clear that this was way above his pay grade which primarily consisted of small scrapes and bruises at this point.

I took over and at that time, healing a completely snapped leg was a phenomenal feat for me. Even from my spot far away from Weston in the middle of the aftermath of the skirmish, I could see the anguish in his eyes.

No one knew why his skills were so drastically below mine, my mother always teased saying it was my birth right being the first child of the alpha. This was usually followed by a cheeky comment about how she hit it first before the Luna and usually it was funny but lately, the gap between Weston and I was becoming increasingly more troubling.

Weston suddenly slammed his fist against the table, dishes and silverware clattering upon impact which ensured the entire room's attention on him.

"Just go ahead and say it already." He gritted though a clenched jaw.

We all stared quizzically over at him, the Luna even placing a hand on his forearm which he gruffly shook off. "Say it!" He exclaimed much louder this time.

Our father's mood quickly shifted from carefree family man to authoritative alpha, the switch visible across his hardened features. "I think it would be wise if you took a seat and think again about what you want to say here."