Maltreat

Stella

I couldn't contain the seething anger within me as I watched Samantha, her mother, and little brother comfortably settling into the pack mansion. The audacity of their presence fueled the fire of resentment burning within me. To make matters worse, Marco, my innocent five-year-old son, innocently sought companionship with Ken, Samantha's brother.

"Mom, can I play with Ken? Please?" Marco's voice carried a hopeful tone as he looked up at me.

The mere suggestion of allowing Marco to interact with Ken sent a surge of fury through my veins. My response was swift, a command laced with frustration. "No, Marco. And don't talk to Ken. Stay away from him."

Marco's eyes welled up with tears as he absorbed the sudden rejection. Confused and hurt, he nodded obediently, the light in his young eyes dimming. It broke my heart to see him affected, but my anger overpowered any maternal instinct for compassion.

Beside me, Franco, my husband, urged caution. "Stella, we need to plan our next move carefully. The arrival of Samantha's family complicates things. We can't let Alpha Jake make a move like marrying her and solidifying her position as Luna."

Franco's words only fueled the flames of my anger. The thought of Jerry, Samantha's newborn son, becoming a potential heir to the pack's leadership was intolerable. I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of my envy and frustration.

"We need to eliminate Jerry before Alpha Jake can act," Franco continued, his voice low and conspiratorial.

The suggestion ignited a spark within me. The prospect of securing my son's future, ensuring he would be the rightful heir, filled me with a sense of purpose. "Yes, Franco. We can't let Samantha's family disrupt our plans. Jerry must be removed."

I couldn't suppress the simmering rage within me as we huddled together, plotting the sinister path to ensure Marco's ascendancy as the next alpha. The realization that my son's fate hung in the balance was both thrilling and terrifying. In my heart, I knew the darkness of our intentions, but the hunger for power blinded me to the moral compass that once guided me.

"I won't allow that child, Jerry, to steal Marco's destiny," I seethed, my voice low but venomous. "We need to do whatever it takes to secure Marco's place as the rightful heir."

Franco, my husband and co-conspirator, nodded in agreement. His eyes, too, burned with a twisted determination to see our ambitions through. As our conversation turned to action, we found ourselves standing over Marco, a pawn in our dangerous game. His tear-streaked face betrayed the confusion and fear that gripped his innocent soul. His plea, soft and genuine, cut through the cold air.

"I don't want to be alpha," Marco whimpered, his voice a delicate tremor in the room.

The vulnerability in Marco's words momentarily thawed the icy resolve within me. A pang of guilt surged, but I quickly suppressed it, adamant that my family would no longer be relegated to the shadows of the Crescent Moon pack.

In a fit of anger, I lashed out. My palm connected with Marco's cheek in a stinging slap. "You will follow our orders, Marco. It's for your own good, for our family's legacy."

His eyes widened in shock, the sting of the slap still echoing on his delicate skin. Tearfully, he nodded, a silent agreement to the pact we were forcing upon him. My heart wavered for a moment, but the hunger for dominance, for the elevation of our family, pushed me forward.

Franco, too, couldn't afford a moment of weakness. He placed a firm hand on Marco's small shoulder, his gaze stern. "You need to be the next alpha, Marco. It's the only way we won't be forever seen as losers in this pack."

As we continued to manipulate Marco, molding him into the figurehead of our ambitions, I felt a profound sense of remorse gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. Yet, the intoxicating allure of power, status, and revenge overshadowed any remnants of maternal instinct or morality that lingered within me.

"From now on, we need to play a dangerous game, one of pretense and deceit," I declared, my eyes locking onto Franco and then Marco. "We must appear as though we've embraced Samantha and Jerry, all while scheming in the shadows to eliminate them. No one can suspect our true motives."

Franco, my partner in this treacherous journey, offered a subtle nod. His eyes mirrored the cruel determination that fueled our shared ambition. Beside him, Marco, my unsuspecting son, absorbed the gravity of our plan, his innocent eyes reflecting the twisted semblance of familial unity that would soon crumble.

"We'll smile in their presence, offer gestures of goodwill, but behind closed doors, our actions will betray our facade," I continued, outlining the sinister strategy that would become the hallmark of our duplicity. "It's the only way we can safeguard our secrets and emerge victorious in the end."

Marco, sensing the gravity of the situation, remained silent but compliant. His youthful eyes betrayed a mix of confusion and obedience, as though he understood the importance of playing his part in this malevolent charade.

"Remember, Marco, this is for the future of our family, for your future," I whispered, my voice a venomous lullaby meant to pacify any lingering doubts. "We will rise to power, and no one will stand in our way."

I, consumed by the darkness of ambition, watched Marco's hesitant demeanor unfold before me. His innocent request to play with Ken, an act that should have been simple, now posed a challenge to our meticulously crafted plan. Irritation simmered beneath my controlled exterior, but with a deep breath, I responded.

"Fine, Marco. You can play with Ken," I relented, my fingers tightening as I held Marco's chin. My gaze bore into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or defiance. "But listen carefully, my son. This privilege comes with a condition – a condition that you must uphold at all costs."

Marco's eyes widened as he absorbed the gravity of my words. He nodded tentatively, unsure of what awaited him but desperate to play with Ken. His wavering resolve steeled my determination to mold him into the pawn we needed him to be.

"Understand this, Marco," I began, my voice a stern whisper, "you must pretend to be friends with Ken, act as though you genuinely like him. But remember, not a word about our plan. No slips, no mistakes. This is crucial for our success."

As my grip on his chin loosened, I observed the mixture of apprehension and eagerness in Marco's expression. He was a pawn caught in the machinations of a game he barely understood, yet his willingness to comply fed the fires of my ambition.

"I need your assurance, Marco. Can you keep this secret? Can you play your part without faltering?" I asked, searching for a verbal commitment that would bind him to our twisted cause.

With a soft gulp, Marco nodded again, a fervent "yes" escaping his lips. The die was cast, and Marco, unwittingly thrust into the heart of our deceit, had accepted his role.

"Good," I muttered, my satisfaction masked by a stoic facade. "Remember, our family's destiny hinges on your ability to play this part flawlessly. Now, go and ensure our plans remain hidden in the shadows."

As Marco left the room, a sense of foreboding lingered. Our clandestine plot was set into motion, with my son now entangled in a web of manipulation that would shape the destiny of our family and the Crescent Moon pack.