51(1). The Mutt Who Would Not Break(A)
The kicks stopped only when the boy stopped moving. Aldric didn’t cry anymore. Tears were useless things; he had learned that at six, when Garrick first beat the softness out of him. He lay with his cheek pressed to the cold concrete floor, tasting iron and dust.
Garrick Thorne, once his father’s closest friend, once the man who carried him on his shoulders, grabbed Aldric’s chin and forced his face up. “Look at me, mutt.” Aldric obeyed. Bright amber eyes met ice-grey ones that had once held warmth and now held only murder. “Good,” Garrick sneered. “At least you still follow orders.”
Aldric didn’t. Not willingly. He simply knew what defiance cost.
Garrick stepped back and brushed dirt from his boots as if Aldric’s face had dirtied them. “Every time I look at you,” he said, pacing the cell, “I remember how Rowan thought you’d grow up to be the strongest alpha the pack has ever seen.” He spat. “What a joke.” Aldric’s fingers curled into his palms. Rowan Vaughn. His father. The true Alpha. The man who died protecting Aldric and Elara when Garrick came for them. Garrick always bragged about it. “Your father begged. Your mother cried. I killed them.”
Aldric learned at ten how to swallow rage like poison. He never gave the man the pleasure of seeing him break.
“Get up,” Garrick ordered. “I’m not done with you.” When Aldric didn’t move, Garrick yanked him up by the hair. Pain ripped down his spine, white-hot and blinding, but Aldric stayed silent. His shirt tore against a nail, exposing ribs wrapped in bruises of every color, black, blue, green, yellow, and fresh streaks of red. “You always were stubborn,” Garrick muttered. “Makes sense why I enjoy breaking you.” He slammed Aldric into the bars. The metal screamed.
Outside the cell stood Tara, Jalen, and Nico, wolves who once gave him sweets and sang him to sleep. Now they watched with amusement. “Need help, Alpha Garrick?” Tara asked lazily. “No,” Garrick chuckled. “I like this part.” Nico laughed. “The prince looks like roadkill.” Aldric said nothing. Silence was survival.
Garrick dropped him to the floor. “Clean yourself. Make the pack house spotless before the Gathering. If Alpha Kade smells filth, I’ll skin you.” Aldric nodded. “Say it.” His throat burned. “Yes… Alpha.” Garrick smiled. “Good boy.” Then he leaned in. “You exist because I allow it.”
He left the door unlocked. The key hung within reach. Untouchable. Aldric never reached for it again. At five, he had tried once. The witchspell had nearly killed him. Garrick’s laughter still haunted him.
Jalen shoved in a bucket of filthy water. Nico tossed a rag. “Don’t bleed on the floors.” Their laughter followed them as they left. Aldric washed in silence, pain thrumming through every nerve. Pain was constant. Loneliness was closer still. Yet his fire remained, a small, stubborn flame that refused to die.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday I will end this.
Cleaning began before dawn. There was no breakfast. There never was. Children threw stones. Adults shoved him aside. Omegas smirked. Only Mira looked away in shame. Aldric resented none of them. Only Garrick.
By afternoon, his body shook with exhaustion. Twenty-four rooms cleaned. Floors scrubbed. Laundry washed by hand. Boots polished. Crates carried. No water. When he reached the dining hall, a bowl shattered at his feet. Stew splashed his legs. Tara smiled. “The mutt got in my way.” When he knelt to clean, the kicks began. One. Two. Three. He stayed silent. That made her furious.
“You think you’re strong?” she hissed, yanking him up. “Without your precious daddy, you’re nothing!” Something snapped. His amber eyes flared, sharp and dangerous. For the first time, Tara hesitated. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, uneasy. Aldric did not speak. He only stared. She shoved him away and stormed off. Aldric exhaled. Tonight would be worse.
By evening, he barely stood. The servants’ quarters were a broom closet with a mat. He collapsed onto the floor as the pack celebrated outside. Laughter. Roasted meat. Music. And Aldric starved in silence. He closed his eyes and remembered warmth, laughter, lullabies, jasmine and pine. Home.
Someday, he swore. I will stop being the mutt. I will become something no one can chain.
He did not yet know he would become the Alpha of All Alphas. Tonight, he was only a wounded boy who refused to die. Aldric Vaughn. The mutt who would rise.
