Chapter 7

• The next morning, I was up at six am, thankful I wasn't on breakfast duty after last night. My face wasn't swollen; it was as though a week had passed, and now it was just a light purple, almost yellow bruise. The small butterfly strips were no longer needed either; just a dark scab left behind. I covered everything that was healed with some make-up, trying my hardest to not look too cakey.
• During the announcement last night, we were told to look and be our best for today. So I had to hide any ugliness to look good, it just had to be done right.
• Happy with the simple make-up and mascara, I put on some light pink eyeshadow to counterbalance the paleness of my face. My emerald green eyes blinked back at me in a comforting gesture, pleased the make-up had worked. I gestured, pleased the make-up had worked. I looked okay… Better.
• I brushed my auburn hair into a side plait, pulling my fringe forwards a little, so it wasn't slick to my head. It was the nicest I have done my hair in a while. It was usually dry and brittle. I wore some slim-fitting jeans with a simple black long-sleeved top to hide my scars and burns. I'd rather wear joggers and a sweat top, but for whatever reason, this pack was important.
• Leaving my room, I wished I had a mobile, so I could just talk to people on that. But I didn't… well, not anymore. I had saved money for one, but Lizzie dropped it in the river when I was out walking last spring. I missed my music and photos.
• Wandering my way down the hall to the adult section of this level, I knocked on my parent's room. Mother's charming voice called me in, and I stepped in with no hesitation.
• “Ember, my dear! You look wonderful! I have not seen you so pretty in so long!” Mom cooed, walking over to me.
• “Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes.
• Dad chuckled. “She has a point. Maybe I should ask Alpha to arrange more visits if you stop hiding yourself. You look great!”
• I laughed. “You look good, too, Dad.”
• And he did. His dark hair slicked back, as usual, wearing a white shirt unbuttoned to his chest that showed the tufts of chest hair. He also wore some blue fitted jeans and black boots, a jacket laying on the bed in waiting.
• “Always a charmer, dear,” Mom smirked.
• Dad bickered back, so I forced myself to interrupt. “Wh-who is the alpha that's coming?”
• Mom turned to me with a raised brow, so I continued.
• “Everyone seemed so… worried?”
• She licked her lips nervously, as though talking about it was a bad thing. Her blue eyes glanced towards my dad, who shrugged and sat down with a newspaper in his hands.
• She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and patted the bed next to her. I followed suit and sat, waiting.
• “Dark Moon is a king's pack. He has three packs; Dark Moon, Full Moon and New Moon. Full moon pack is the creative type; they are the ones to supply the riches and decorations for the royals and many other packs. New Moon pack use technology to advance our times. The Dark Moon pack is strict and fearless; enforcer warrior type. They have taken down many packs. Rumors have it… your original pack, Crescent Moon.”
• I gasped, feeling anger. “Why?”
• “We don't know. They haven't disclosed the information, and whatever the king says goes. He makes the laws. To defy the King is to go against everything. He's the reason we live how we do, the ranks, the policies, the arranged mating... all his ideas.”
• “So he's a sexist pig then,” I stated.
• Mom chuckled. “He is yeah… There has been a lot of trouble in the kingdom. He is an old wolf In the past, King Eduardo was ruthless and heartless, but hopefully, when the Prince takes over, he may change it all…"
• I nodded solemnly, curious.
• “Now the alpha of Dark Moon is Alpha Damien. He is… the strong silent type, someone you would rather not cross. He is tough and merciless. One wrong step and you are at his mercy. His family has been the Royal's right-hand pack for centuries, and for good cause. They're dangerous, Ember, so we have to be on our best behavior.”
• Dad hummed in agreement. “He had that omega boy from Blue creek pack imprisoned for treason for simply making his coffee wrong.”
• I gasped. “That's terrible!”
• He chuckled. “Boy should've listened when Alphie wanted no milk.”
• “Reggie!” Mum scolded. “That boy was barely eighteen years old. He was an innocent child."
• “Yeah, yeah, now come on. Let's go have breakfast together.” He chuckled, and we all agreed.
• Breakfast was always a buffet style with dishes covering a large dining table at eight am it was fifteen minutes past, so we may hit a bit of wolf traffic, which I was nervous about. Dad's hand met the small of my back as he pushed me in front of him and behind Mom in the queue.