THERON

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THREE.

“Alex!” Uncle Arthur greets me with a warm smile, “you’re back! How did it go, son?” His hand clasps my shoulder but I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.

A stiff drink sounds better.

I almost had her.

I almost had him.

Almost, almost, almost...

“It didn’t,” I grit, moving away from his grasp. I head straight to the wet bar.

Years of scouting and planning all flushed down the metaphorical toilet because of one mistake.

One.

One, one, one...

And that one error will inevitably fall on me, though I shouldn’t be rightfully blamed. Assuming the Ancient would never leave the girl was only logical. My informant failed to mention the ancient watching over her was, in fact, not the one we wanted.

I should have been more prepared for such a surprise... should have had a plan B.

Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve...

“Leave him be, Art. Can’t you see he came back empty-handed,” Aunt Sara calmly replies, her expression stoic like always. She stands, as she commonly does, straight with her hands gently folded together in front of her. The repulsion in her voice does not escape my notice.

Bitch.

Bitch, bitch, bitch...

How these two ever came together, I’ll never know. They were complete opposites in every way. While my uncle is cheerful and caring, my aunt is cold and emotionless. He’s average-looking, in his early seventies while she looks as if she hasn’t aged a day in her life. Had I not met her when I was three years old, I would have thought she was a sugar baby, gold-digging whore, appearing as youthful as she does.

I never have quite ruled that theory out...

Sara has long dark hair and bright blue eyes. Her features are sharp and witch-like and it doesn’t help to soften her inner beauty. She’s as ugly on the inside as she is beautiful on the out.

Ultimately, she’s stunning, I’ll give her that. It seems like her aging had been frozen in time somewhere around her mid-twenties. I’m pretty sure she must have more Botox than Kim Kardashian’s ass. I don’t know her age—I don’t think anyone, even my uncle, knows. And while Arthur never questioned her feelings towards him, I certainly did.

Toned, tanned, and leggy, she is the epitome of every teenage boy’s wet dream... I’ll honestly admit, she had been mine at one time. But that was before the death of my father and before I lived with her and Arthur and became accustomed to her bitter and mean-spirited nature.

She never smiles, never has a kind word for anyone and I have yet to see her shower my uncle with any form of physical affection. Still, he always caves to her every whim.

Whatever Sara wants, Sara gets—always.

Always, always, always...

And now, she wants the Lone Ancient.

So here I am, pouring my bourbon, wondering exactly what kind of magical pussy she has. She isn’t demanding new clothes, expensive jewelry, or multiple sports cars... oh, no. She wants a fucking werewolf! But not just any werewolf, that won’t do—she has to have the one they call Theron.

I find it all very suspicious.

Very, very, very...

When she had learned exactly which of our experiments had escaped and slaughtered our employees, she went on a rampage... probably the first time in my life I have seen any normal, human emotion shown by her. It was an oddity, for sure.

But it didn’t stop there. It’s been like dealing with a feral dog for years now.

Pissed she wasn’t informed that we had captured such a creature, she demanded retribution, which, thus, ended up being in the form of layoffs to every employee that had survived... but that wasn’t enough. When they came to us requesting protection after the revenge killings began, it was Sara who decided to decline each and every one of them. They were abandoned to their face their fate as a form of punishment for not knowing there was ever a first created, all-powerful werewolf/lycan thing.

Thing, thing, thing...

It was an innocent mistake that cost many people their lives.

And what did my uncle do?

Absolutely motherfucking nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing...

If Sara wanted that beast then she would have it. He never even desired to know why she was so obsessed with obtaining this particular creature... it wasn’t a detail that matter to him.

Ignorant coot.

I throw the drink down my throat, the burn quelling my annoyance, if only slightly. They say alcohol makes you brave... but I’m about to confirm that there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity when it came to liquor, “Well, had you actually been able to describe which Ancient I was supposed to get you, then I would not have come back empty-handed, now would I, Aunt Sara?” If she doesn’t know what he looks like then why am I expected to?

“Don’t you dare blame your failure on me, Alex,” she snaps, “it’s not my fault you didn’t do your research.”

Whoever thought up the phrase, ′you are your own worst critic,′ never met my aunt. According to her, I was never working quickly enough. I wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, or prepared enough for her liking. The pressure she constantly put on me was surely the reason my mission failed but once again, it would all be my fault.

Sara can do no wrong.

No wrong, no wrong, no wrong...

Gripping the counter a little too tightly, anger explodes like a bomb within my body, seeping into every available pore. My father’s condescending voice radiates in my head.

Pathetic.

Weak.

An embarrassment.

A disgrace.

I had wrongly assumed that after his death I would no longer have to hear his vile words but unfortunately, they followed me through the ages... haunting me like a demonic entity. And here I am, once again, listening to the same bullshit every single fucking day only this time, it resonates from a female voice.

I whirl around, furious, my anger directed at the only remaining family members I had left. I don’t expect a reaction out of Sara, I know her too well, but my uncle... I feel bad for him. I don’t know what expression is currently on my face but by the fearful look in his eyes and the instant tension in his body, I can only guess it was quite a murderous one.

Shut up, shut up, shut up...

But I can’t shut up.

The combination of her constant demeaning nagging, her apparent fake relationship with my uncle, the fuck up with the she-wolf, the loss of more than half of my men, the fact that the Ancient almost ripped my skin clean off my bones was all too much.

Too much, too much, too much...

I erupt.

My hand latches onto Sara’s throat and I push her back against the wall. I cannot contain the merriment I feel as her eyes widen and her mouth parts in shock.

Finally, a human reaction.

Finally, finally, finally...

Her fingers scratch and claw at my arms, her hands tug at my wrists but I don’t let go. Even when she started gasping for air and I faintly heard my uncle yelling in the background, I do not let go.

“Listen here, you fucking whore,” I sneer, “I don’t know what this obsession is you have with this fucking werewolf—you might be able to fool my uncle but I see right through you.” I raise her off the ground, still choking her neck. Her eyes start to water now, her lips turning an awkward shade of blue, “You want Theron? You go get him. I’m done being your errand boy.”

Done, done, done...

But before I can release my hand from her throat, Sara plunges a needle into the side of my neck. In shock, I drop her, instantly rubbing the place where she had injected me.

“Bitch!” I exclaim, staggering away from her. The sudden loss of my senses sent me careening into the wet bar. My feet feel heavy, and try as I might to move them, they refuse to comply. Muscles that never fail me had a first today and lock into position, sending me straight to the floor with a hard thud. I groan in pain when my head hits the ground.

I try fighting it, I really do.

Really do, really do, really do...

But it’s no use, I am numb.

Frozen.

Paralyzed.

Paralyzed, paralyzed, paralyzed...

My vision blurs, but I can’t force my lids to blink the fog away.

What the fuck did she do to me?!

Me, me, me...

Through my blurry vision, I could see her figure hovering over me. I imagine her face to hold the same icy glare it always does though I cannot see it.

She’s touching me, running her fingers through my hair. Bile rises into the back of my throat, threatening to leak out of my half-open mouth if I can’t soon break free of whatever tranquilizer she gave me.

Dying of asphyxia had never been a consideration in my future.

No future, no future, no future...

Fuck.

“Sorry Alex,” I hear her mumble from above me, “but we are ready to start our human trials and someone is destined to be our first. Why not you?” She pats my cheeks, harshly, “Make your Aunty Sara proud.”

Blackness encroaches my vision as I watch her walk away. Her retreating back is the last thing I see before I lose consciousness.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...
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