Ch. Ch 7 Don’t come back Ch 7

Ever since I could remember, my parents were rarely home.

They dedicated almost their entire lives to herbal research.

They would often leave for a year or more at a time.

Besides the hired Omega servants, the only ones who took care of me were my twin brothers, eight years older than me.

When I was six and just starting elementary school, I was bullied by classmates because I was smaller and weaker than them.

My parents were thousands of miles away, so I came home and cried under my blankets.

Fourteen-year-old Axel came into my bedroom late at night to check if I had kicked off my covers.

When he pulled back the blanket, he saw my tear-stained face.

He held me and wiped away my tears just like Mom used to do.

While patting my back, he comforted me:

“It’s okay. Big brother will protect Ember.”

The next day, he went to my school and beat up all the bullies. The teachers caught him and punished him by making him serve as a combat training partner for the elite Alpha wolves.

When I couldn’t find him after school, I ran to his campus. In the training arena, those Alpha wolves were beating him until his face was covered in blood.

My eyes turned red with worry.

He ran down from the platform, his face covered in wounds, and grinned to reassure me: “This is nothing.

“Brother loves combat training. When I finish, I’ll be stronger and better able to protect my little princess.”

We walked home together after his training.

When we arrived, the Omega servant was on leave.

Ryker had already prepared hot, delicious food. When we opened the door, the wonderful aroma filled the house.

The teenage boy grabbed bowls and chopsticks from the kitchen, poking his head out to say: “Wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.”

Ryker had always been quiet but gentle and attentive.

Whenever I played too roughly and got seriously hurt, trying to sneak back home without telling anyone,

He would silently roll up my sleeve and treat my wounds.

When he finished, he’d look up as if wanting to say something.

Seeing me nervously biting my lip, he’d just sigh softly.

He’d pat my head and say: “Be more careful next time.”

I was mischievous and active as a child, never learning to be careful.

So he would bandage my wounds again and again.

And each time, seeing my panicked expression, he would sigh and tell me: “Be more careful next time.”

For many years while our parents were absent, they were both brothers and fathers to me as I grew up.

Until I turned twelve and saw the Caribbean on television.