I'll Make Her Talk
Alpha Dahmer, his beta, and his mother were seated at the rectangular table in the grand dining hall. A bronzed chandelier hung on the high ceiling, illuminating the room's expanse with its golden glow.
Opposite the table sat Lord Irish and his beta, the Alpha of the Laskan pack, and his expression was anything but cheerful.
He stroked his black beard while waiting for Esme, and Dahmer cleared his throat before exchanging a knowing glance with his mother. The both of them had shared the same assessments in regards to how they viewed their guest; His noble attire was crafted from the finest velvet and taffeta, hence, it spoke more of his immense wealth and power.
That was the only advantage Dahmer saw in Alpha Irish, else, he would have no sort of relationship with the man. It won't matter at all to him what he does with Esmeray at the end of the day, cause he would be the one to benefit from this trade.
Their realm, which was known was Illyria, was separated from that of the human world in order to maintain peace between them. Humans were viewed as weaklings, and since werewolves were known to have the habit of picking on those weaker than them, their realm was separated to avoid future crises. Despite this, Alpha Dahmer viewed his sister as scarcely more than a human.
Esme was frail and lacked a wolf entirely, an exceptionally rare and unfortunate condition. Her only redeeming quality within the pack was the family's unique hair color, offering a modest advantage to her otherwise insignificant presence.
It was well-known that those with this distinctive hair were forbidden to cut it, as it symbolized the moon goddess's blessing.
Cutting it was considered a blatant rejection of her favor, inviting her wrath.
A Montague with short blue hair was deeply scorned both within his pack and among other packs.
He couldn't deny it — Esme was undeniably attractive, something he had witnessed firsthand. It made sense why she was considered one of the most pretty in their pack, and her hair was a notable asset for him.
Despite being wolf-less, there was a hidden rumor that anyone who shares a bed with a female Montague would gain a unique ability and an enhanced energy flow, making them stronger. Esme was unaware of this latent power, which allowed him to maintain control over her.
His thoughts were interrupted when Alpha Irish slammed his fist on the table before them, commanding the room's attention, and he inquired in a low, demanding tone.
"Where is the girl?" the impatience in his voice could not be misheard. "We have been waiting for more than ten minutes. We have to journey back to the south, and time isn't in our hands, Alpha Dahmer."
"Forgive the delay, Alpha Irish." Dahmer responded with an apologetic smile on his face, "she will be here shortly. I have sent a guard to fetch her already. Just a few more minutes, and you will be suitably impressed when she arrives. You trust that the Montague's never fail to deliver, do you not, Alpha Irish?"
He tilted his goblet slightly in a smooth gesture of camaraderie, but the Alpha remained unimpressed.
Luna Percy was the first to notice Esme walk into the dining hall, and the smile on her face vanished. Dahmer was the third to notice her after Alpha Irish, and his face turned aghast when Esme approached the table.
The room fell silent in a matter of seconds, and Esme felt the unspoken tension in the air. Regardless, she greeted everyone at the table, her expression neutral, but what caught their attention was her short hair that had been neatly combed and styled.
"You asked to see me." Esme's tone was curt and formal, and she kept her gaze low like she had been taught.
Alpha Irish was stupefied and glanced at Dahmer with a look that questioned, 'is this some kind of joke?', but there was nothing Alpha Dahmer could do to control the unfolding situation.
Rising to his feet, he glared daggers at Esme, seeking to reprimand her in front of Alpha Irish to demonstrate that he was no complicit in her actions.
"What is the meaning of this?" A vein throbbed angrily on Dahmer's forehead. "Is that your hair? Where is the rest of it?? Speak up before I lose my patience, Esmeray!" His voice escalated to a near shout, while Percy eyed the young woman with undisguised indignation.
As much as Esme tried to maintain her composure, Dahmer's furious tone caused her to flinch repeatedly. Fear tightened its hold on her chest, and one look at Dahmer threatened to shatter the fragile resolve she had painstakingly gathered.
Esme had one problem, and it was her silence — an affliction that had plagued her since the moment her father died. Her inability to speak up for herself was her greatest enemy, and sometimes, the worst places one can be in is in their own heads.
The constant overthinking, the relentless self-doubt, it's like a never-ending storm to which there is no escape. Each time she made attempts to voice her thoughts, her mind drowned her in a sea of 'what-ifs' and 'you can'ts'.
She always blamed herself for acting this way, but deep down, she knew she was raised to be like this — conditioned to believe that her voice held no value.
She yearned to defend herself, but her thoughts kept her prisoner, silencing her before she could even try. To avoid returning to her shell and taking this step to challenge her silence one more time, Esme's trembling lips parted as she explained.
"I cut my hair."
"YOU DID WHAT??!!" Dahmer's eyes bulged, and Luna Percy rose to her feet as well, unable to believe that the stupid girl had used her own mouth to blurt out her unspeakable act. Everyone was up on their feet, and the Alpha of the Laskan pack glanced between Dahmer and the girl, his own annoyance seeping through.
He had not traveled this far to be made a fool by the Montagues.
Alpha Dahmer was in a dilemma. He looked at Alpha Irish and immediately tried to salvage the situation. "Alpha Irish, I assure you that I had no idea this would happen. If you can trust me, her hair might be cut short, but she is still a Montague. I promise you, you will not be disappointed in this deal if you take her with you!"
Alpha Irish's scowl deepened. "The Laskan pack have no desire to entangle themselves with a cursed Montague," he retorted. "I came here for a Montague of pure lineage, not a cursed one. This is what I get for entertaining your proposal. Goodbye, Alpha Dahmer." With a look of disdain, he turned to leave, barely sparing Esme more than a glance.
"Alpha Irish! Wait! Allow me to explain! This is all a misunderstanding. I need those men!" Dahmer was desperate to convince the Alpha of the Laskan pack to reconsider. However, he halted his approach when Alpha Irish's men pointed their blades at him, signaling a clear warning to keep his distance.
Luna Percy's gaze followed her son, and while he was busy trying to reason with Alpha Irish, she approached Esme with a cold fury and delivered a resounding slap to her face. The sound echoed within the dining hall, and the servants gasped in shock at the sight of their youngest lady being struck.
"You insolent child!" Luna Percy could not contain her fury as she raged. "How dare you cut your hair and present yourself before the Alpha like this? Do you take pleasure in your own worthlessness that you decided to curse yourself with your own hands? Answer me!" She grabbed Esme by the arm, shaking her violently in a desperate attempt to understand the madness behind her actions.
"Answer me!" Percy demanded, her voice echoing within the dining. Esme's heart drummed in her ear the very moment she noticed Dahmer returning, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he pulled out his belt.
"Leave her alone, Mother." He said with a chilling calm. "I'll make her talk."