(3) Painstaker

Prologue

Rule number one; no fighting. Not unless it was scheduled by a higher power with intentions of marking strength and agility.

I'd learned the difference between a play and a fight at the age of five. All I wanted to do was take my twin brother's hand and roll around in the sand pit until my lungs gave out in laughter and my hands callused from the rough texture of the ground. My father thought spending too much time with my brother would lead to fighting.

Because breaking the rules would cause the world to end, in his eyes.

Rule number two; never share secrets with one another.

I used to crawl out of bed, skip over to my brother's bed across the hall, and whisper stories until dawn. We'd laugh and sing and not give a damn about anything besides ourselves.

If we were to get too close, things would get difficult. Things would become complicated. With complication, there's unnecessary drama that could lead to total chaotic disaster. Apparently.

When the rules were implemented, I saw less and less of my beloved twin. My father favoured him, I always noticed. Donovan got more training sessions. Donovan spent more time at the Alpha's mansion. Donovan this. Donovan that.

Might as well hand him the Beta title now.

If I were to grip the railing and harder, it would snap under my grip. Considering I was standing in the gymnasium of my school and there were quite a few humans around, I knew I had to cool it off a bit.

Donovan was such a... such a... suck ass. There he was, chatting it up with the future Alpha, Carter Davenport. It was only the first day of third grade and there he was, cozying up with him. Sure, our families crossed paths on the frequent occasion, but we were never given the chance to speak with our future Alpha in a personal matter.

So what if Donovan was more likeable than me? I was honest. Goddess forbid people my age couldn't handle it!

"You look upset." A voice spoke from behind, causing me to whirl around in a huff. Standing before me was a girl roughly my height with black hair pulled into two pigtails. She wore a yellow summer dress and white sandals. At the sight of me, her lips curled up into a warm smile. "Why are you upset?"

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not upset. Why would you think that?"

The girl was familiar; I'd probably seen her the other years in Elementary school. I didn't pay attention to much of anyone else besides Donovan. That is, until he realized he wanted to win Beta more than be my friend. Traitor.

The girl's nose scrunched up. "You're a really bad liar," she giggled. "Want to be friends?"

I straightened my posture in an act of showing off intimidation. It usually worked. Even the humans could sense a certain dangerous aura from us werewolves. This girl, however, seemed to grow a larger smile at my act as if she lived for danger.

That was when I remembered how I knew her. Ella Calloway. Little sister of Jackson Calloway who died not long ago. I narrowed my eyes at her; Jackson was a werewolf. She wasn't a werewolf. In fact, it was because of her that everything became a disaster. After the attack that killed Jackson, my father amped up his obsession in Donovan's constant battle with me. Sometimes, I put the blame on Ella. Sometimes, I thought back to how it was her fault everything happened.

But then, looking into two large eyes full of curiosity and fearlessness, I thought against it. Despite the grin on her face and the way she presented herself, she was sad. If anyone looked long enough, they could see through Ella Calloway's façade that she put on for us.