“The pack is divided. Half are here with me, the other at the mountain. There was a fight, when I challenged my father for leadership, and it got real messy. The people were turning and with more attacks in the west, he was becoming a dictator, forcing the people under his command, and treating them like they were all his prisoners. I had to do something, and he didn’t like it. He lost! …. I’m the rightful alpha of the Santo pack now, but instead of stepping down gracefully as the laws dictate, he ordered those loyal to him to take out me and mine.” It’s an exasperated tone, explaining something he clearly doesn’t want to, and it revs up that aura of closed off hostile around him. I gawp at him in wide eyed shock, heart thundering crazily, trying to really pull those words together. It hits me that while I was having my own existential crisis, so was he.“I don’t know what to say.” I stammer, side swept with that reve
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