The Hybrid Series Book 2

Numb.

Don’t get me wrong. There are moments when life seems a little less gray, but then the crushing pain always finds me…

It always catches up, no matter how fast I run.

I stand at my bedroom window, looking out at the palace grounds. I see Ali and Anya—both twenty-three now—tossing their shiny copper hair and flirting with some of the pack warriors.

They haven’t found their fated mates yet. Amber and Eddie are planning to send them traveling soon to increase their chances.

It seems like they’re enjoying their last bit of harmless flirting before they become mated she-wolves.

I see Hunter and Ozzy—now seventeen—following our father as he scouts new talent in a combat class.

Since they were thirteen, they’ve been learning how to rule a pack, training at all the top pack lands.

Our dad is doing his best to teach them how to be fair and level-headed rulers, but also ruthless when necessary.

When Hunter turned thirteen, we found out he was to be the next king; he inherited our father’s wolf’s golden eyes, which means he’s next in line for the throne.

Ever since this revelation, the she-wolves have been flocking to him like seagulls to a beach picnic—poor Hunter.

Most wolves would love this kind of attention from the ladies, but Hunter’s different.

He’s not one to fool around with the ladies, although I can see the temptation in his eyes sometimes.

Ozzy, on the other hand, is destined to be a different kind of ruler. The hellhounds’ interest in him has only grown; now they’re inseparable and are with him every moment of every day.

I bet he can’t even pee in peace without them howling to be with him on the other side of the door. He will be the next king of demons when the time comes.

Our grandfather, Dominic, will step down to the rightful king as planned, although Ozzy has been sneaking off when he can, helping Grandad with his duties any chance he gets.

He was a real troublemaker as a young teenager. I saw steam practically coming out of my mom’s ears many times because Ozzy would sneak off through one of his portals.

Oh yeah…he can create portals to the demon realm whenever he wants. A pretty cool ability if you ask me!

Meanwhile, I stay in my room or keep to myself most of the time, watching the world go by.

I am destined for nothing, I am destined to be a nobody…and I am certainly not destined to be anyone’s…spinster princess, maybe?

Or maybe I’ll just become one of those bitter old ladies who hate everything and everyone but also complain that they’re lonely. Yeah, that sounds like my future.

Once upon a time, I had dreams. I dreamed of a big, white mating ceremony under the full moon, a royal gown, and the entire pack celebrating our union.

I dreamed of my house and how I would decorate it. I didn’t need anything fancy, just enough space for my mate and our pup.

I watch other pack wolves my age hanging out and talking.

I’ve tried to be “normal” again. The last time I tried, I joined the group while they were laughing and having a great time…until I sat down.

I smiled at them and everyone went silent. I sat there for about fifteen minutes of awkward glances and stiff conversation before I gave up and left.

Ali and Anya caught up to me. I was waving my arms around, huffing and puffing about the wasted effort. You could call it a mini-meltdown.

They told me that I was giving off deadly vibes and icy glares. Oh, and the friendly smile I gave them…it was actually a snarl—my bad.

Out of all the wolves my age, Ali and Anya have never given up on me.

They don’t force me to join in conversations, but they let me be by myself in their company.

She retreated deep inside me... I haven’t felt her since.

I can’t shift without my wolf, Sierra, so I’m basically just a demon now, and a weak one at that.

My demon abilities are pathetic compared to my mom’s raw power.

I can barely create a one-inch flame in my palm. It’s about the size of a small lighter flame, a neat party trick for a human, but pretty pathetic to anyone else.

Even so, Ali and Anya are still hopeful that their wolves will be able to coax mine out of hiding.

Even if I don’t always show it, I appreciate their efforts and their friendship.

When we first lost him, I would be doubled over in pain. My heart felt like it was being squeezed, sometimes it even made me throw up...

Dinah still believes he’s out there somewhere; she says she can feel it in her bones as a mother and as a witch.

When I was younger, this would fill me with hope, but as the years passed, I started to lose faith in a fairy-tale reunion.

Now, when she says hopeful things like that, I manage a polite smile and nod...though it’s probably more of a grimace.

Of course, I still wish for Rex to be returned safe and sound, but with the amount of effort my dad has put into finding him and all the leads continuing to go cold—my hope has dwindled.

My dad is determined to fulfill his promise; he hasn’t stopped searching to bring him home. He will never rest until we have answers...even if they aren’t the ones we want to hear.

Closure—we need closure, whatever that might be.

Whoever was involved knew exactly what they were doing.

They left no scent, no traces of where they could’ve gone after the thirty-foot radius of the crime scene. Even more worryingly, they knew how to immobilize a lycan...

He could be anywhere.

I think back to the moment he was taken. His eyes were so full of happiness and filled with promises of the future—our future.

Then, within seconds, everything—my whole world—changed.

Later that evening, I head to my dad’s office before our Sunday family meal; I tend to visit him most evenings.

As I reach the large mahogany double doors, I hear what sounds like papers being scattered or shredded and my dad yelling out in frustration.

I push open the doors as his fist collides with his desk.

“Fuck!” he shouts as a large chunk of wood falls to the floor.

He sinks back into his chair, pushing his hand through his hair in frustration as he sighs.

“Sorry, Mae-Mae, I’m not having the best evening tonight,” he says apologetically, though what he actually means is he’s found no new leads in Rex’s disappearance.

My dad spends most of his evenings trying to piece together any potential new evidence that comes in. My mom and dad go for “walks” most days though.

I now know this is code for “scouting for new evidence.” I have to give it to them, they have never given up. They refuse to give up.

Dad vowed he would find the culprit and that’s what he intends to do. His wolf will not rest until this vow has been fulfilled.

I know that might sound selfish to some...but I worry that if I don’t even meet my own basic needs, the depression and emptiness will return.

I fear it will consume me to the point I accidentally starve myself to death.

In the beginning, my days were spent sitting in bed staring vacantly at the wall. This went on for around a month.

Succumbing to sleep would be the only way to break my lifeless staring. My mom and dad were so concerned that they put me on twenty-four seven watch, even hiring a team of carers to keep me clean and force-feed me.

I wish I could help more; I wish my wolf would come back so that I could put more energy into finding him, but so far, ten years on… no such luck.

“Anything I can help with?”

I laugh at myself internally.

“No, sweetie, it’s fine. Why don’t you go and get yourself ready for dinner?” he says tenderly. I can tell he’s trying his best to protect me from his bad mood.

I nod. As I begin to turn and leave, a paper catches my eye. It holds a photo attached: a photo of the blood-covered grass at the scene of Rex’s disappearance.

My stomach drops and my insides churn.

It takes me right back to ten years ago, making me feel like a frightened fourteen-year-old all over again, making the physical pain of losing him tear through every nerve ending in my body.

I raise a hand to my mouth as my knees buckle and give way. Strong, comforting arms catch me before I hit the floor. Dad.

See, Dad + wolf speed = helpful. Me + no wolf = burden.

I snuggle into him as he strokes my chestnut hair soothingly and carries me back to my room. I feel like a tiny girl again.

I love and adore my mom to pieces, but I will always be a daddy’s girl.

He places me gently on my bed as a couple of staff around the palace come in with a large glass of water and what looks like a pre-dinner snack.

“Eat and drink up, darling. When you’re feeling better, come down and join us for dinner… Oh, and don’t tell Mom about the snack. She’ll kill me if she finds out I ruined your appetite with snacks.”

He smiles impishly at me.

“I promise.” I return his smile before he turns and walks out my room.

I can’t help but feel like I’m still treated as a child sometimes, but I know they come from a place of love.

They know I struggle to look after myself, so they’ve taken on that role of parenting again to make sure I’m not going hungry.

About forty-five minutes later I make my way to the dining hall. We eat here with our family on random nights throughout the week, but always every Sunday.

By family I mean my mom and dad; brothers—Hunter and Ozzy—Beta Dinah and Idris; Amber and Eddie; Ali and Anya; Gamma Jude; his mate, Maria; and their son, Hector, who is twenty-five years old.

As I push open the large doors, they clunk and creak as they swing open. Heads turn my way and eyes snap to my own.

I bow my head and attempt a half-hearted smile to apologize for my tardiness.

I can feel the occasional sorrowful glance... resting on me... sympathizing with me... I can’t bear it. I understand they don’t intend to make me feel uneasy.

What can anyone say? I suppose it’s difficult for people to pretend like nothing happened to the girl who’s still shattered and heartbroken every single day by the loss.

As I settle into my seat, I sigh inwardly, wondering what new nightmares will be the subject of tonight’s conversation.