Flawless 5

5: Devon’s Anger Issues

REBECCA’S POV

The dining room was a cavernous space, I could barely see where I was going. Why was everything so dark and eerie in this place?

The long mahogany table stretched endlessly beneath the ugly black chandelier. I swear this was how I imagined Count Dracula’s castle to be decorated.

At least the food smelled divine, with the scent of all sorts of meat making my stomach excited. I sat near the end of the table, while my mother sat nervously beside Devon at the head.

Devon leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. The silence was oppressive.

I was starving, but Devon said we couldn’t eat until the whole family was present.

He kept huffing and puffing like he was ready to blow the little piggy’s house down.

He definitely had an anger issue.

A maid entered, she kept her eyes downcast.

I knew he lived in a castle, but was he a king or something?

The staff were so weird and acted like this man was royalty. I hated it.

“Drew is not in his room, Alpha,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I threw up a little every time someone called him Alpha.

Devon’s jaw locked tight while his muscles twitched under his skin. The fork in his hand snapped with a harsh metallic crack. “That spoiled, ungrateful brat,” he snarled. “He thinks he’s above this? Above me? Skipping dinner on our first night as a family… he’ll regret it.”

Mom placed a hand on his arm, her voice soft, almost pleading. “It’s alright, sweetheart. He’s just adjusting. He’ll come around.”

Devon’s eyes didn’t leave the broken fork. His voice dropped, cold as steel. “Hilary, your place here is to help me feel better and calm me down, not give me your opinion or a lecture. You don’t speak unless I say so, is that clear?”

“Yes, Devon,” Mom nodded.

“Come here,” he shifted in his seat. “Now,” he commanded.

My mother flinched but obeyed, rising from her seat and approaching him slowly, almost like she was afraid of him or something. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her lips, making her giggle.

He nuzzled her neck, and she melted into him like a lovesick teenager. Their display was nauseating, and I pushed my plate away. I had lost my appetite.

“May I be excused?” I asked, my voice strained.

Mom looked up with concern in her eyes. “But you haven’t eaten anything.”

“I’m not hungry,” I deadpanned.

“Sweetie, don’t try and fool me. Look at you, you’re practically bones. Now come on, eat. Take at least one bite. The food’s so good.”

“I said I’m not hungry! Jeez!” I slammed my palm down hard on the table.

Devon’s voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You don’t raise your voice in my house, young lady, and I never want to hear you speaking to your mother like that ever again.”

His fingernails scratched at the surface of the table, and his eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, they seemed to darken, it was as if someone had poured black ink into them. I blinked, and the illusion vanished.

“Apologize to your mother right now,” he commanded.

“Devon, baby, it’s alright. She’s just tired and homesick,” Mom interjected.

He shook his head slowly. “This is her home now, whether she likes it or not. And in this house, she’ll learn her place and how to speak with respect.”

I clenched my fists. “You’re not my father. Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Devon’s expression hardened, and he shoved my mother off his lap. He stood up so fast, I gulped. I was so scared when he began marching toward me that I almost peed my underwear. My heart banged away in my chest when I felt him gripping my chin, angling my face upward so I could see into his.

He leaned in close, the stench of pork on his breath made me recoil.

“I know you’ve hated me since the day we met, and that’s fine. But I’m married to your mother. I put this roof over your head, food on your plate, clothes on your back. Like it or not, that makes me your father. Hell, you don’t even know who your real father is. You should be thanking me for all that I’m doing for you and your mother.”

His words were heavy on my heart. How could he say something so cruel to me?

“May I please be excused?” I asked, my voice barely holding steady.

Devon released my jaw but kept his eyes locked on mine. “You can go, but this is the first and last time. Starting tomorrow, we eat dinner as a family.”

I didn’t wait. I bolted from the table and ran up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door shut behind me. The taste in my mouth was bitter. A choking, sour kind of rage.

The skin where his fingers had been burned like acid.

Devon’s dominance sat heavy in the air, like smoke that clings no matter how hard you try to breathe past it. And my mother was downstairs laughing on his lap like a teenager in love with the wrong boy. She didn’t even try to defend me after all the mean things her husband said to me. The whole scene had made my skin crawl.

I lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow helped, a little. But mostly, I just felt stuck. Stuck in this strange new house with a man I couldn’t stand and a mother who wasn’t mine anymore.

The hunger crept in slow, coiling like a fist in my gut. I glanced at the clock. 12:41 a.m. The castle was dead silent now. Everyone was asleep.

I threw my blanket around my shoulders and tiptoed toward the stairs, the cold biting through the fabric. Every step on the wooden staircase creaked like a warning for me to just go back to my room and sleep this hunger off. It wasn’t like I hadn’t gone to bed starving before. I’d done so countless times, but I couldn’t sleep, and I needed to stretch my legs too.

Halfway down, I froze.

The walls along the staircase were lined with old, shadowy portraits of wolves. Dozens of them. Massive, regal, snarling beasts caught mid-prowl. Their golden eyes seemed to follow me in the dark. Some had black eyes that almost reminded me of what I thought I saw tonight. Devon’s eyes changing color like he was demon possessed.

I kept studying these photos, some looked painted, others almost photographic… so lifelike it made my skin prickle.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how alone I was. And how watched I felt. Still, I kept going.

My tummy growled. “Alright, just be quiet,” I whispered as I rubbed my belly.

I continued until I reached the kitchen. I felt proud that I found it with ease, considering how huge this place was. The light was off, but a faint glow from the microwave’s clock helped guide me. That’s when I saw the note on the counter in my mom’s familiar handwriting: Check the microwave.

I opened it and inside was the plate I hadn’t touched at dinner, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables. I smiled and reheated it while I sat at the small kitchen table.

The microwave beeped and I got up to retrieve my meal. I began shoveling the hot food inside my mouth, ignoring the way it burned my tongue. Mom was right, this tasted so good. I was there, enjoying my food, but the thick walls didn’t protect me from the sounds upstairs. First there was banging on the rails of the balcony. And then came the laughter. Then the sultry moans.

I recognized the voice. My mother. It was like she and Devon were making love on the balcony of their bedroom. And just like that, my appetite vanished again.

I abandoned the fork on the plate. I decided to get some air. Even though this house was big, I felt suffocated.

The night was colder than I expected. I stepped outside through the back door, pulling my blanket tighter. The estate was quiet. No traffic, no voices, just the rustle of trees and the distant call of some animal.

Suddenly, I spotted movement at the edge of the woods. A girl, maybe my age, was walking into the trees.

Curiosity tugged at me.

I hadn’t met anyone here yet, other than Devon and Drew. Maybe she was heading to a party or sneaking off to drink or smoke. Maybe, just maybe, this didn’t have to be hell if I met some friends.

So I followed her.