The Alpha's Omega Mate-Chapter 86: Same side of the same coin.

~Zarek’s POV~

"Zarek? Zarek? Did you just walk out on my father? Did you just disrespect him in front of everyone?" Jennifer’s sharp tone snapped at me, but I paid no attention to her. I couldn’t. Not when the entire world was spinning right in front of my eyes. Not when it felt as though my heart had been crushed, and the space left in my chest had been replaced with tofu.

’Nice food’ you’d say, right?

Only that these were rotten. Ten days old and tossed into the trash.

"Zarek, I will not allow you to continue to disrespect me like this. I don’t care if you lost your memories or not, but lately you’ve also been acting like you’ve lost your senses as well!" She snapped, her voice pulling me out of my reverie.

My eyes thinned as I turned to face her, and when I did, she took a retreating step back. She bowed. "I’m sorry that came off rude... it’s just that you’ve been acting weirdly towards me, like you no longer care about me and my feelings or some—"

"What agreement do I have with your father? And why does he think he’s been investing in my pack?" I growled before I could stop myself and I noticed the way Jennifer instantly blanched.

An ugly emotion contorted her face for a millisecond before she quickly composed herself. She blinked up at me with wide blue eyes— in feigned innocence— and then she croaked out; "Do you not remember?"

I frowned. "Like I remember anything."

"He’s been investing in your hide and cattle business for several months now. He’s also been a major help in providing the pack with ammunition and security."

"But we buy those from him... it’s not like he’s doing it from the goodness of his heart."

"Zare—"

"Jennifer, you’ve still not explained what you’re hiding from me!" I snarled in rage. "We do business with your father. Business isn’t the kind of investment he was implying back there! He talked like he was doing all of us here a favor and I want to know why!"

"I don’t know!" She cried indignantly. "I don’t know! Maybe he thinks the ammo he supplies us is enough favors! Maybe there’s something else you both did together that I do not know of. Maybe you’ve forgotten about it!"

"ENOUGH!" I shouted, causing Jennifer to instantly snap her lips shut.

That was it. I was done listening to her lies. I was done tolerating her nonsense. I noticed how she fidgeted, her fingers occasionally pulling on the tiny beads adorning her dress, and instantly, I knew that she was jittery. She was restless.

Which equates to: she is lying.

My hands shook with rage at the thought, and at the thought of all the lies she must’ve probably told to me before; and for the first time in my life, I felt this uncontrollable urge to hit her— and I do not hit women.

I turned away. But just as I was about to walk away, another thought struck me.

For a moment, Dahlia’s angered face flashed in my mind’s eye. I could even still feel the anger emanating from her, and how she hated me. Hated my guts. Hated being around me.

All because of Jennifer.

I snarled; "Whatever it is that you did that day with Dahlia’s smell, I’ll find out. And when I realise that you didn’t just steal her scent like you told me, I’ll execute you... and I’ll make sure your execution is spectacular."

She didn’t need to reply because I could already hear the erratic beating of her heart. I could even smell her fear, and they all pointed to the same thing I’ve always thought: That she lied.

But I’ll find proof... and when I do, I just pray to the heavens that she must’ve left this pack else there’ll be nothing left of her to send back to her fat father.

As I continued down the hallway to my room, whilst thinking of more better ways I could wring the truth out of Jennifer, a memory from my childhood slipped past my mind, and for the first time in a very long time, tears slipped down my face. My body shook with pain and anger barely contained.

There was a reason I refrained from hitting women. A reason I never liked my father... a reason I would never like him.

Suddenly, I was back to a cold winter night when I was six. The night that changed everything:

It was one of those nights when Father would come home late from his monthly ’Pack hunt trips’. He’d been gone for nearly a month, long enough that my Mother and I had gotten pretty used to his absence in the cold house... and to the lack of his incessant yelling and his heavy footsteps all around the house.

That night, Mother with her perky first-trimester-pregnant stomach, was busy making broth while she hummed to a song I loved to hear.

That night was lovely, we were at peace.

However, our safe haven quickly disintegrated when we heard the sound of the front door closing. Then followed by heavy footsteps, the one we both dreaded.

"Hey," she whispered to me. Her eyes which were once full of love had now been replaced by something else... a feeling that I was smart to know was fear.

She pointed to the large table. "Your father is here. Pretend to read, I’ll serve your dinner soon.

I nodded obediently and I did as told. I hopped into the chair not so far from where she was and soon began to distract myself with the paintings in the book as I still didn’t know how to read by then.

Father, on the other hand, chose that moment to step into the kitchen. His eyes were malicious and he reeked. He reeked of the woods and something else. Something that my young mind shouldn’t know but I did anyway:

Sex.

But that wasn’t new.

That didn’t bother neither I nor my mother.

However, what bugged us was the younger child standing beside him. He had a mass of black hair, just like father and me, and his eyes were so green, they rivalled the emerald stone mom had given to me one time.

I saw the smile my father gave to the little boy, who in turn smiled back at him, but as young as I was, I couldn’t help but notice how stiff Mother had become. How her back seemed straighter.

How her skin looked paler.

"You’re back!" She exclaimed, trying so hard to sound excited but she just couldn’t.

I pretended to raise my head from the book and bowed as a way of acknowledging his presence. "Welcome, Dad." I greeted.

And again, my eyes met the young boy’s green ones.

Father smiled— more like bared his teeth at me and then he muttered;

"Zarek, meet Derek, your younger brother."

I froze just as mom’s spatula clattered to the floor.

The silence in the room was deafening. It was tense. Thick. But amidst all these I could still remember the smile on my father’s face.

And how it mirrored the smile on this stranger’s face.

He was indeed his son. They were the same side of the same coin.