Guilt
ADA
Normal werewolves begin the first day of a new year with group runs, fresh traditions, or family outings, but ours begins with needles.
A chill runs down my spine. I sink further into the couch, a needle pressing into my vein. Zeno, my cousin, sits across from me, his hand clasped in his mother’s, and his face pale.
“Is that enough?” Aunt Yilena, his mother, asks.
Her husband frowns, watching as the syringe fills with my blood. “Just a little more and… we’re done.”
Uncle Liam’s face brightens as he pulls the needle free from my skin. He moves to the couch where his son is seated and injects him, transferring my blood into his veins. It’s not the first time, so no drop escapes.
When he finishes, Zeno exhales softly. His eyes flutter close before his breath evens out and he sags against his mother. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead.
“We should take him to his room,” Aunt Yilena mutters.
“Ada.” Uncle Liam stretches the used syringe toward me without a glance my way. “Discard this.”
My fingers curl around it. I rise, swaying softly on my feet. Now that they have what they need, my work here is done. Uncle Liam lifts his nineteen-year-old son over his shoulder, and they hurry to his room. By morning, Zeno will look better than the sick boy who almost died today.
After trashing the syringe, I hurry to my room, afraid my knees will buckle before I make it. My wolf pushes forward, lending me the strength to make it in one piece.
As soon as my head hits the mattress, I’m out. It feels like I’ve barely slept when the alarm goes off. A wave of dizziness hits me as I sit up. Donating blood to my cousin is no reason to escape my chores. No one else will be awake by this time, but I hurry upstairs to the kitchen.
Uncle Liam is always the first to leave the house, so I start with his food. Taped to the fridge is the family menu. Aunt Yilena is on a weight-loss diet, so a protein shake will suffice this morning. But Kat and Zeno are different.
Another bout of dizziness hits, and I open the window so the chill will shock my system. The air is crisp, biting, and beautifully clear, marking the end of the rainy season. Soon, the aroma of sizzling eggs, bacon, and coffee fills the kitchen.
Morning light filters in through the window as I set up in the dining room. It’s completely removed from the messy, steam-filled chaos of the kitchen beyond the doorway.
The loud thump of footsteps announces Uncle Liam’s presence as he steps into the dining room. I step back into the kitchen, flinching when he places his briefcase on the dining table. Before sitting, he drapes his jacket over his chair.
He works nearly every day, even on New Year’s. Dad would have made today a pack holiday or at least organized an evening run for us to clear out dead brush and ground our paws in the cool, rested soil.
“Good morning, Uncle,” I mutter.
He ignores me. My wolf scoffs in my head, but my face stays neutral as I walk past the wide, arched threshold of the kitchen to pour him coffee, all black like his heart. He cuts into his bacon while I stand behind him waiting for instructions.
As soon as he takes a bite of the bacon, his jaw goes rigid. He spits it onto the polished plate with a sound of pure disgust. The knife flies from his hand, the silver blade nicking my palm as it clatters to the table. But in his rage, he doesn’t notice. The chair groans as he rises.
“What good are you?” he snarls. “This is tasteless.”
My head stoops in a bow, and I reach for the plate. “Sorry, Uncle. I’ll make another one.”
“No need.”
He grabs his jacket and briefcase, shooting me a glare before walking out. Once the door clicks shut behind him, I stumble back to the kitchen, sinking into the island stool. Ola, my wolf fumes, but I ignore her, touching the cut on my palm. It hasn’t fully healed. With my magic weakened, healing has become more difficult.
’If they didn’t offer your blood to him, you’ll be fine,’ Ola points out. Like I need another reminder this early.
A new set of footsteps approaches. I tense, rising slowly to my feet. Zeno pokes his head into the kitchen, a dimple appearing on his left cheek when he smiles. With a buzz cut and light brown skin, he’s a replica of his father.
It’s easy to tell we’re related. But instead of a single dimple, I have two. Where he has brown eyes, I have green.
“Ada. Good morning,” he mutters. Walking back to the dining table, he slides into the chair Uncle Liam vacated. “Is Dad gone?”
“Yeah.”
Zeno picks up the fork his father left, holding it up to his lips. “What’s for breakfast?” Before I can reply, he wolfs down the bacon. “This is so good. Can I have more?”
Something ugly twists in my chest. Relief tangled with hatred.
“Of course,” I say, already moving.
I heap more food onto his plate and save what’s left for his twin sister, Kat. Eating with them isn’t allowed, so I grab a Tupperware with my breakfast and return to the basement.
The air changes the second I descend the stairs.
Upstairs smells like coffee, eggs, and bacon. Down here, it’s detergent, damp concrete, and the metallic scent of old pipes. The basement isn’t completely unfinished.
But it isn’t truly part of the house either. Just a space someone cleared out enough to fit a narrow bed, a rusted standing fan, and a small dresser missing two handles.
My room sits in the far corner beside the washing machine, separated from the rest of the basement by a faded floral curtain Uncle Liam pinned to the ceiling years ago.
Even on the hottest of days, the concrete floor stays cold, and the tiny window near the ceiling only shows slivers of ankles when people walk past outside.
Footsteps thud overhead, probably Aunt Yilena’s. I sit on the edge of the mattress and open the Tupperware lid.
Familiar laughter drifts down, and my heart clenches. They must be eating breakfast without me. Again. Tears cloud my eyes. I think I’m used to it, but it seems I lied.
Done eating, I place the empty Tupperware at the foot of the bed and head to the bathroom hidden behind a folding divider. It’s barely bigger than a closet with yellowing tiles and a shower that wails every time the pipe warms.
Since I’m used to it, it doesn’t take too long for me to finish. I dress in the colors of the café I work. A mustard yellow top and black jeans, with my hair in a ponytail.
When the voices overhead quieten, I head up. There’s no one in sight, but I hurry out of the house. The door opens right as I step out. Zeno hops down the front stairs, his smile big and bright.
“Going to work?” he asks. “I can drop you off.”
’It’s guilt,’ my wolf says. ’He feels bad for draining you—’
’That’s enough, Ola,’ I tell her.
Ola returns to her spot, her annoyance simmering in my chest. I know she’s right. The only reason Zeno is nice is because of all the benefits he receives from me. But I’m in no mood to walk the two miles to work, so I nod.
Besides, only a few more days, and I’ll be back in college. It’s easier to escape chores when college is in session.
A beep echoes in the driveway when Zeno hits the key fob, and the headlights of a sleek black Bugatti flash.
’This should be yours,’ Ola growls.
“Hop in,” Zeno says.
Nausea rises in my throat, but I force it down and plaster a polite smile on my lips. Once we both enter, I flip the radio on before he starts a conversation. His stare bores into the side of my head, but I don’t spare him a glance.
He knows. We both know I’m the reason he’s here, but I don’t want to deal with his pathetic talk or polite bullshit today. So, I lean my head against the window and pretend to nap.
The engine purrs, and Zeno kicks the car into motion. Eyes closed, I open my mind to the massive oaks lining the avenue, my uninjured hand pressing against the cold window. As far as their branches stretch over the streets and their roots sink deep into the earth, I can communicate with them.
It’s taxing, especially with my magic depleted from the blood draw, but I don’t trust Uncle Liam to protect the borders. I won’t let him ruin what’s left of my parents’ legacy.
With the trees communicating with each other, I’ll receive word from them first and warn him if there’s an incoming danger. It’s one more reason he keeps me around. So far, nothing strange has happened. The pack is peaceful.
The car stops in front of EverGreen Café, and Zeno turns to me with a smile. Longing shines in his eyes. He wants us to act like real blood relatives. Maybe to justify his conscience or the evil his parents commit often.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say.
“Anytime.” There’s a pause before he clears his throat. “Will you call me when you’re done? I’ll come get you.”
“Of course,” I reply too smoothly.
Zeno’s eyes hold mine, and he sees the lie in them. But he doesn’t call me out for it. I exit his car and shut the door gently, taking a deep breath before entering the café.
Work begins immediately with setting the pastries in the show glasses. As I’m rounding up, Ola lets out a growl.
’Wait,’ Ola mutters. ‘There’s a new face in town.’
‘Is he dangerous?’ I ask.
A thrill shoots through Ola, and I feel it. I toss the rag I’m using to clean a table over my shoulder and walk back to the kitchen. The chef gives me a thumbs up and continues stacking more pancakes on the large, silver tray.
‘Ola?’ I urge.
’I don’t know,’ she answers. ‘But this will be good. I can feel it.’
