My Ex-mate Brother is my Second Chance Mate

The Black sheep

Isadora Davis

My curiosity about Lucas began to increase, so I decided to walk around and see the stuff in his room. It was the first time I had ever been in his room, and I kept my curiosity hidden.

As I walked around the room, I noticed a notebook, and I remembered when he told me he didn't like reading. I picked up the notebook, and a picture slipped out of it.

I opened it and saw a picture of two boys that looked exactly like Lucas. One had a scar on the face with striking green eyes, which I was sure was Lucas, as we always played together back then when he didn't hit puberty.

The other boy was Lucas twin, whom everyone talked about, but I never saw him in person as my eyes only saw Lucas, but I remembered hearing his name was Logan.

He was the black sheep of his family; some called him the antisocial weirdo twin that ran away after Lucas was named the pack heir due to jealousy, and people always whispered about him.

To be fair, I think he got the good end of the deal. To leave the pack had always been my dream. I wished there was a way I could swap my soul with his so I could escape from the horrible pack.

Imagine being able to do whatever you want to enjoy freedom—to be free to roam around and let your wolf run free in the wild, not caring about anything or anyone. Trust me, Logan was living his best life wherever he was while I was stuck here doing everyone's laundry every day.

That has been my biggest dream since I became a slave to the Alpha family. For some unknown reason, I kept looking at the picture more keenly, especially the large scar on Lucas face.

I then remembered that on the day I first met Lucas, he had a scar on his face in the same place. As we became closer, I asked him who did that to his face, but he refused to tell me, and the only word that came out of his mouth was his face.

I peered deeply into the picture, and I realized the scar made him look more handsome than the other boy without a scar.

"What are you doing?" I heard a familiar voice say something behind me and turned to see Lucas. He stopped in front of the doorway staring at me.

"Oh, hey," I said, dropping the picture hotly on the table like someone who had been caught stealing and scooting it under the book.

"What are you doing in my room?" he repeated, walking dangerously toward me.

"Um, I'm just doing laundry and looking for where to drop these," I said as I gestured at the clothes in my hands. He looked like he bought it, so I added more lies to smooth it out.

"I wanted to put them on the table, but your books were in the way," I said, and I walked quickly to arrange the books in order to create enough space for the clothes.

After folding the clothes on the table, I realized how easily he bought my lie, which gave me enough time to hide my evidence properly.

"Well, do fast and get out," he said, like my presence irritated him just like his father, and he sat on the bed.

I finished with the arrangements of the clothes, and I turned to him nervously, unsure of how to ask him the billion questions going through my mind.

"Hey Lucas, what happened to your scar?" I asked, pretending to be busy picking up the empty basket.

"What?" he asked, staring at me like I grew another head.

"The scar you had on your face when we were little." I pointed to my face so he understood my description.

"None of your business; now get lost," he said angrily, standing up to kick me out of the room.

"I am sorry; I was just curious." I turned back to pick up the empty basket, bolting out of the room.

I ran downstairs, and before I could take a deep breath, I ran into Ashley, who looked livid. Not again.

Can't I get a break?

"What are you doing coming out of my boyfriend's room?" she questioned, blocking my path and frowning.

"Um, laundry, and if you don't believe me, why don't you go up and ask your man and stop harassing me like I stole your man? I don't want him." I tried to move, but she kept blocking my path.

"Ashley, what do you want?" I held the basket tightly to tame my anger. I was not in the mood for her drama.

"Since when has laundry been done with the mouth b***h? I heard you talking to him!" she screamed.

"And did you hear what I was saying to him, or did you just jump to a conclusion?" She began to huff and puff, gnashing her teeth.

"Where did you get the audacity to talk back at me like you have forgotten who I am? I am the beta's daughter. I am destined to marry the future alpha of this pack and be second in command. Do you know the power I yield, or do you want me to show you?" She walked closer to me.

"Unfortunately, you never let me forget who you are, my highness, and trust me, I wish I could even for a second. Now if you are done throwing a tantrum and fidgeting, I would love to continue my work because, unlike you, I am not jobless and have important stuff other than my precious boyfriend to take care of." I motioned to the basket. I pushed her out of my way and began to walk down the stairs.

"What did you say to me?" She grabbed my shoulder to face her and then punched me in the face.

Oh sh*t, not again. Trust me, being punched twice in the face on the same day was not pleasant.

The punch threw me down the stairs like some super hero stunt and crashed me into a vase that was placed at the bottom of the stairs, and I broke it. s**t. It was the alpha-red jade vase. I was dead meat.

My reflexes were bad. It came with being golden wolf-like and not properly trained at that. I had bad luck. I had bad reflexes, bad looks, bad luck, and bad everything; my wolf barely existed, and I only felt her in extreme situations.

I passed out at the bottom of the stairs from the intensity of the crash. I opened my eyes moments later in extreme pain. The b***h had broken my bones and dislocated my shoulder in just one blow.

I had underestimated Ashley's strength, forgetting that she was the beta's daughter. This would surely be a lifetime reminder.

Thankfully, I had the fast-healing genes of a werewolf—the only good thing that comes with being the golden wolf, remember? I looked up to find her standing over the stairs and smirking down at me.

"Next time, don't ever talk back at me, b***h, or I might just break your face," she spat at me and walked away giggling.

She was a good puncher; I would give her credit for that, but unfortunately for her, my body was so good at healing that she would need more than a single punch to take me down for good.

It's funny how life can change so easily in the blink of an eye. My mind began to drift back to our childhood, where we were once best friends before my own life took a drastic change.