forty four

Adam's eyes close for a long moment, his jaw working as if chewing on the weight of his words. When he opens them again, I see the boy I once knew, buried beneath the hardened lines of the man before me.

"Where do I even begin?" he murmurs, standing up slowly and pacing to the window. The small hut, once filled with memories of warmth, feels like a fragile shell ready to crack under the tension.

He doesn't look at me as he starts speaking, his voice hollow, as if the story he's telling is one he's recited to himself a thousand times.

"My father... he wasn't a kind man. You probably guessed that." A bitter laugh escapes him, void of humor. "No, he was far from kind. Obsessed is a better word. Obsessed with power, control, and most of all- with werewolves."

I inhale sharply, and my hands instinctively clench. His words stir a familiar ache, a memory I've buried for years. But I stay silent, remembering his earlier warning. No interruptions. Just listen.

Adam continues, his fingers gripping the window frame as if he needs something solid to hold on to. "He wasn't always like that. When I was a kid, he was just... strict. Cold, maybe. Distant. But things changed when he found out about werewolves, when he discovered what your kind were. It was like something snapped inside of him. He became... fascinated. And not in a way that meant respect or understanding. No. He wanted to own them. To control them."

He turns back to me, his eyes burning with an old fury.

"He saw werewolves as creatures to be studied, captured, experimented on. Not people. Not like you or me. To him, you were animals. Beasts with power he didn't understand, and that terrified him. So he decided to contain that fear the only way he knew how..." he stops for a moment, his distant eyes finding mine.

"...by hunting you."

My chest tightens at his words, old memories clawing at the edges of my mind. Not just me. Others. My...?

"My father built his small but powerful empire, convincing others to join his cause. Hunters, scientists, even your own kind. Rogues. They captured werewolves, locking them away, using them for experiments or simply keeping them caged as trophies. And I—I watched it all. I was his son. His... heir. I was supposed to follow in his footsteps."

He stops pacing, his eyes locking with mine, and I see the boy I remembered, struggling beneath the weight of his father's shadow. "And then they brought you in."

My heart skips a beat. Me?

"You were different from the others, Rafael," Adam says, softer now. "I don't know if it was because you were younger or because you looked... so innocent, but something about you got to me. My father's men had beaten you, starved you, like they did with all the wolves they captured, but you—you didn't fight back like the others. You didn't snarl or try to rip their throats out. You just... lay there."

I swallow hard. Memories buried somewhere deep inside of me clawing their way back up. My mind playing pictures of cold, dark days. All blurred together. But it's not just my own pain that comes back.

It's hers.

Adam's voice softens as if he's reading my thoughts. "Your mother... she was there too."

I freeze, the blood draining from my face. I haven't heard anyone speak about her ever, haven't let myself think about her. Couldn't, because I didn't remember. But now, the memories come rushing back.

"I remember her, Rafael," Adam continues, his voice filled with something close to regret. "She was... a fighter. My father hated that. She never gave him what he wanted, no matter how much he tried to break her. She protected you, even when she couldn't protect herself."

I shut my eyes tight, a lump forming in my throat. Hazel eyes, broken but comforting. Warm hands grasping me through cell bars. Screams.

"My father..." Adam hesitates, looking at me as if he doesn't want to say the words. "My father was... infuriated with her. In a way, he didn't want to admit himself. He wanted to own her, completely. But she never gave him that satisfaction. She... refused to escape when I offered to help her."

I jerk my head up, my eyes locking with his. "What?" I croak, my voice barely a whisper.

Adam nods slowly, as if afraid I might break uundert the truth of his worfs. "I tried to help her, Rafael. The same way I helped you. But she wouldn't leave. She she knew... she knew that my father never would have let her go. She knew he'd come after her. She made me promise... promise that I'd get you out."

I feel a crack in my chest, something breaking open that I've kept buried for too long. My mother chose to stay behind. She sacrificed her freedom for mine.

"She knew she wasn't going to make it," Adam says quietly.

"She knew your father's men would come for her if she ran. She made me promise to get you out, no matter what. And I—" His voice falters, and for a moment, I see the guilt etched into his face. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't even self you. Or myself. Not really."

The air in the room feels heavy, suffocating. I can't speak. I can barely breathe. All I can think about is my mother, the distant sound of her voice, her face.

"I should've been faster," Adam says, his voice raw with guilt. "I should've done more. But I couldn't save her. And I couldn't save you... not completely."

The silence stretches between us, thick and painful, before Adam continues. "When I helped you escape, I thought it would be enough. I thought you'd find a new life, something better than the hell my father put you through. But your old pack, they found you. When I was away. They took you away, and I... I lost you. I came back to our hiding spot... and you weren't there. We escaped. Free of my father. And then they found you. From one hell into another."

His words hit me like a blow to the chest, the weight of my mother's memory crashing down on me with full force. She stayed behind for me, gave up everything for me. And I never knew.

"I tried to find you, Rafael," Adam whispers, his voice tight. "But it was too late. You were gone, and I realized I couldn't live without, but you..." He stops, swallowing hard. "you could. You lived without me. And it... it broke me."

I don't know when the tears started, but I feel them now, wet and hot against my skin. I stare at Adam, unable to speak, my throat tight with emotion. We are both prisoners—of the past, of the choices that were made, and of the scars we carry.

Adam looks at me, his own eyes filled with a sorrow I haven't seen in him before. "I'm sorry, Rafael. I'm sorry I couldn't save her. I'm sorry I couldn't save you the way I should have."

For a long time, the only sound is the wind outside the hut, whispering through the trees. And in that moment, I realize the truth.

We were both victims of the same man. My mother, Adam, and me. Bound together by the cruelty of one man's obsession. Bound by choices that none of us could change.

so... hi guys, I'm back? not really. just thought why not post this. ly though