Bloodlines and Betrayal

10. 🐺

"Have you ever heard the phrases 'fight like a girl' or 'act like a boy'?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe of the packhouse kitchen. My voice was quiet but resolute. "In our family, those words are nothing more than relics of a bygone era."

Our pack didn't follow the rules of the world outside. We didn't fit into the neat boxes society tried to shove us into. We fought like wolves—fierce, relentless, and united, regardless of our gender. Training wasn't just about conditioning the body; it was a ritual, a demanding process that sharpened every part of us. It wasn't about just surviving; it was a way of life, a testament to our existence in a world where the next moment could be our last.

The warriors of our pack were more than just fighters. They were our protectors, standing against the dangers that threatened our kind. Their duty wasn't just to be strong but to be unwavering, ready to defend us with their lives. For years, that role had been exclusively male. But then came my mother, and she changed everything.

My mom was never one to conform to expectations. She was the smallest, the shortest wolf in her class, but she conquered the warrior tryouts with a ferocity unmatched by any male competitor—even my father. Her victory became a legend—a modern-day fairy tale where the least likely candidate rose to become the strongest. The story of how my parents met in that arena is still told around campfires, a mix of romance and raw, real struggle.

Dad often shared their story with a nostalgic smile, recounting their early days together. From kindergarten crushes to an enduring partnership, their bond grew stronger with each passing year. He would tell us about the small acts of love—flowers and candy, lending a hand whenever needed. Their love, mixed with the brutality of pack life, became the cornerstone of our family.

Today was special. It was Saturday, and Hazel, my younger sister, was about to experience her first training session. She was the baby of the family and our mother's most precious treasure. Just the thought of her getting hurt was enough to send Mom into a frenzy. I woke up to the familiar smells of coffee, pancakes, and bacon hash—the breakfast that meant training day had arrived. The house was alive with the sounds of pots clanging and Mom's cheerful encouragements.

When I checked on Hazel, I found her curled up in Colton's bed, her tiny feet brushing against his face as she slept. I smiled, watching them for a moment, before I started waking them up. But just as I did, Colton startled her with a loud "BOO!" causing Hazel to shriek and reflexively slap him. I rushed over to pick her up, offering a comforting hug.

"Today's a big day, Hazel. Your first day of training observation," I said softly, trying to calm her.

She muttered, "Yeah, but I still want to get back at Lucas for stealing my cookie."

Colton, stretching and preparing for the day, grinned. "Tell me who it is, and I'll take care of them."

"Lucas," Hazel said, rolling her eyes. "He always steals my cookies."

"Well, we'll deal with that later," Colton replied, walking downstairs. "But for now, let's focus on your big day."

The smell of breakfast drew us downstairs. The table was a feast—pancakes stacked high, bacon crisped to perfection, golden hash browns, and a steaming pot of coffee. Hazel, ever the enthusiast, stuffed her cheeks with food, even sneaking sips of coffee like a grown-up. After breakfast, we gathered our things and headed to the packhouse gym.

The packhouse gym was a buzz of activity. The air smelled of sweat and determination. Colton shifted into his wolf form and joined the other warriors, his presence commanding and fierce. I moved toward the younger pups, ready to begin their training. Hazel, proudly wearing her little "Assistant Trainer" hat and armed with a toy whistle, was a sight to behold. She walked around the gym, observing with wide eyes, absorbing everything.

The training session began with a series of drills that tested agility, strength, and coordination. The pups, eager and excited, followed our instructions, though not always perfectly. Hazel stood at the sidelines, watching intently. Her eyes were wide with awe as she tried to take it all in. Her presence was a source of pride for Mom, who stood nearby, facing a mixture of love, apprehension, and encouragement.

Then came the moment I didn't expect. Lucas, the same pup who had taken Hazel's cookie earlier, decided to push boundaries. With sneer, he shoved Hazel to the ground and taunted her. Her cry of distress pierced the air, and my heart clenched.

I sprinted toward her, Colton right behind me. His Alpha authority was evident as he shouted, "Lucas, why did you push Hazel?" His voice was cold, unyielding. "She has every right to be here. As part of the Alpha and Beta families, she holds superior rank. Apologize, or face the consequences."

Lucas mumbled an apology, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was ordered to sit out for the rest of the session. The lesson was clear: respect was non-negotiable.

Despite the fall, Hazel proved to be a trooper. Colton carried her to the hospital, where Mom and Aunt Karen took care of her scrapes. The sight of Hazel with her pink and purple band-aids was bittersweet. As they treated her wounds, I filled in Kaylie and Hunter, making sure they knew what had happened.

When Hazel returned to the gym, she was undeterred. The energy was high again, and Colton and I engaged in our usual sibling rivalry, pushing each other in a series of intense sparring matches. The competition was fierce, but it was part of our bond. Hazel, sitting on the sidelines with her popcorn, cheered for us all, her presence a reminder of why we fought so hard.

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted, but there was a sense of accomplishment in the air. Back home, Hazel took a bubble bath with Mom, their laughter filling the house as the tension of the day melted away. The dinner that followed was filled with stories and love, despite the earlier drama. Mom asked about the training day, and Colton spoke with wearied pride. "There was some trouble with Lucas, but we handled it."

I added, trying to lighten the mood, "Lucas had a crush on Hazel, which might explain some of his behavior. Though it's no excuse." Hazel wrinkled her nose in disgust, clearly not thrilled at the idea of Lucas having feelings for her.

As dinner wound down, Mom took the opportunity to explain shifting and growing up in the pack to Hazel. Her words were gentle, full of love, and offered Hazel the comfort she needed. It was a typical evening in our home—a contrast to the intensity of training.

After the dishes were done, we settled in for movies. The day had been long, but the warmth of our family made everything worthwhile. As we settled into our routines, I reflected on the day's events with pride. Training wasn't just about physical strength; it was about the connections we made, the lessons we learned, and the resilience we built together.

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the challenges ahead. The next day would bring its own set of obstacles, but we'd face them as a family. Together, we were unstoppable. And no matter what happened, we would continue to fight—not just for survival but for the legacy of love and loyalty that made us who we were.