I'd been dating Dorian for a year.

He invited me to his house, claiming it was just a casual visit.

A casual visit? Yeah, right-more like a disguised meet-the-parents situation.

I kept it under wraps from my Alpha dad and only brought gifts that matched my income.

"Alice, my mom's pretty blunt, don't take it personally," .

Please. I've handled my fair share of Beta and Alpha friends. What's an aunt to me?

"Don't worry!" I said, patting my chest confidently.

But reality quickly slapped me in the face.

The moment we entered, I cheerfully greeted Aunt Sara. She gave me a cold glance, then turned and walked straight into the kitchen.

Wait. that's it?

I stood there, dumbfounded, and asked Dorian if his mom didn't like me.

"Don't overthink it," he said, ushering me toward the TV before heading into the kitchen himself.

Dorian's house was in Pack Castle's old district, a modest three-bedroom with average décor. Honestly, it was smaller than my bedroom.

"Alice, have some fruit." Aunt Sara came out with a large platter-mangoes, dragon fruit, bananas-and placed something unfamiliar in front of me.

A wriggling, translucent creature the size of a small fist.

"What... is this?" I stammered, blinking.

"Try it. You'll love it." Aunt Sara's smile was sharp, too practiced to be genuine.

It was a bloodfruit, the kind only found in the deepest parts of our Pack's territory. I hesitated, eyeing Dorian's reassuring nod. Maybe I was overthinking it.

Before I could decide, Aunt Sara spoke. "I heard your Pack's from the north. must be tough, huh? You guys don't exactly have the luxury we have here."

This wasn't just an awkward comment. It was an insult.

When I didn't respond, she continued, "Dorian's been spoiled. He grew up in the heart of the pack, you know, where the wolves really matter. You'd be lucky to get by in the outskirts, where your Pack probably lives. He's had everything: private lessons, training, foreign trips. I've spent more on him than I care to admit."

I shot a glance at Dorian.

He looked apologetic, but his gaze told me don't make a scene.

Aunt Sara saw my silence as an invitation to press on.

With a smirk, she reached for the bloodfruit, picking it up with delicate fingers, its slimy surface wriggling. She handed it to me, almost challenging me.

"I see you're hesitating, Alice. You really don't know how to handle this?."

Her tone was deliberate. My hand trembled as I took the fruit.

Just before I could snap, Dorian's voice cut through the tension. "Mom!"

"Watch how you speak! Alice isn't some packless weakling. She's more than capable of handling herself."

Aunt Sara's eyes burned with contempt, but she backed off, her lips curling into a sneer. "You're so protective of her, Dorian. It's pathetic." With that, she spun on her heel and marched back into the kitchen, her steps echoing like a silent threat.

The door slammed behind her.

I stood up, clutching my bag, ready to leave. This wasn't worth it.

"Wait!" Dorian grabbed my wrist gently, his expression desperate. "Just dinner, Alice. Please. Don't go."

I heard Aunt Sara rummaging around in the kitchen, muttering to herself.

I looked at Dorian, at his face, handsome but haunted. He was begging now. For a moment, I softened.

"I can't promise it'll be pleasant," I muttered, still furious, but willing to give him one more chance.

He smiled, relieved, but there was something dark lurking behind his eyes. He knew what would come next.

"Fine. Just dinner," I agreed. "But this isn't over."

What I didn't realize was that dinner would open the door to something far worse.

At the dinner table, Aunt Sara placed a large platter of bloodstone claws, a rare delicacy from my Pack's territory, steaming hot.

Dorian tried to cover up the tension, "This is Alice's gift-authentic Crimson Fang Claws she had a friend send from our northern Pack."

Aunt Sara didn't even look up.

She just reached for her plate with a half-hearted grunt.

After a few moments, she glanced at me with a sharp, calculating gaze. "Alice, I heard you graduated last year. What's your monthly salary?"

Dorian quickly intervened"Most fresh grads get around five thousand."

Aunt Sara froze, her claws-yes, claws-paused mid-air.

"That low? Doesn't even match the wage of a Pack servant," .

"Crimson Fang Claws are so tiny, though. First time I've seen such small ones."

Dorian shot me a quick glance, clearly worried, urging me with his eyes to let it go. But this time, my temper was already too far gone.

"Aunt Sara, if the claws are so small, why bother eating them? Or is your family too poor to buy something more fitting for you?"

Aunt Sara's face reddened, her grip tightening on her claw, but I wasn't finished.

I gestured at the sparsely filled table, barely enough for three.

"In my Pack, even the poorest members would never serve guests with so little. Or else they'd be laughed at for being too cheap."

With that, I watched Aunt Sara's blood pressure visibly rise. She slammed her claws onto the table with an audible crack.

I stood up, brushing the crumbs off my hands. "Well, since you don't like the claws, Aunt Sara, I'll take them off your hands."

I started scooping the claws onto my plate, offering a few to Dorian. "I'll make sure to eat what you won't. No point in wasting good food, right?"

Aunt Sara's face darkened, turning almost purple.

She shot to her feet, her voice sharp as a wolf's growl. "No wonder you went to some wildling college. The way you speak to elders? No manners, no upbringing at all!"

"Funny, Aunt Sara, you're the one lecturing me about manners when your precious son chases after a lowly girl like me. Maybe the problem isn't me, but your man-child of a son."

Dorian's hand shot out to grab my arm, but I jerked it away. "Let me go, Dorian,"

Aunt Sara, seeing red, lunged at me, her claws extended, ready to tear into me.

But I was faster, having learned close combat since I was young. I sidestepped easily, watching as Aunt Sara crashed into the wall, her hand throbbing with pain.

Dorian stood frozen for a moment, caught between his sobbing mother and me.

Finally, he snapped.

Without saying a word, he shoved the bottle of Crimson Moon Liquor I had given him back into my hands. "Alice, you shouldn't have treated my mom like that," he muttered, his voice laced with anger.

"Take it back," he sneered, "we don't drink this kind of filthy liquor."

My eyes widened with disbelief.

This wasn't just any liquor-it was a rare blend, aged for decades in ancient barrels, infused with healing herbs from my father's secret stash. This was the kind of drink only a true Alpha would understand.

But Dorian didn't appreciate it.

I looked at Aunt Sara, who had stopped crying and was now smirking with an air of superiority.

"Oh, still whining over a lowly girl, Dorian? That's your problem-you think you're above your Pack, above everyone else. But in the end, you're just a weak , too scared to stand up to your mother."

Dorian's face twisted with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Aunt Sara, whose smirk was now a sneer. "You're right, Aunt Sara, I come from a lowly background. But I'd rather be lowborn with dignity than be a highborn with a man-child for a son."

"Not drinking this kind of liquor?"

"It's not for drinking, Dorian. I use it to soothe my joints and calm the burn of my Alpha blood. You wouldn't understand, would you?"

I stood at the door. "And you, Dorian... You're a grown man, yet you still suckle from your mommy's teat. "

At the dinner table, Aunt Sara placed a large platter of bloodstone claws, a rare delicacy from my Pack's territory, steaming hot.

Dorian tried to cover up the tension, "This is Alice's gift-authentic Crimson Fang Claws she had a friend send from our northern Pack."

Aunt Sara didn't even look up.

She just reached for her plate with a half-hearted grunt.

After a few moments, she glanced at me with a sharp, calculating gaze. "Alice, I heard you graduated last year. What's your monthly salary?"

Dorian quickly intervened"Most fresh grads get around five thousand."

Aunt Sara froze, her claws-yes, claws-paused mid-air.

"That low? Doesn't even match the wage of a Pack servant," .

"Crimson Fang Claws are so tiny, though. First time I've seen such small ones."

Dorian shot me a quick glance, clearly worried, urging me with his eyes to let it go. But this time, my temper was already too far gone.

"Aunt Sara, if the claws are so small, why bother eating them? Or is your family too poor to buy something more fitting for you?"

Aunt Sara's face reddened, her grip tightening on her claw, but I wasn't finished.

I gestured at the sparsely filled table, barely enough for three.

"In my Pack, even the poorest members would never serve guests with so little. Or else they'd be laughed at for being too cheap."

With that, I watched Aunt Sara's blood pressure visibly rise. She slammed her claws onto the table with an audible crack.

I stood up, brushing the crumbs off my hands. "Well, since you don't like the claws, Aunt Sara, I'll take them off your hands."

I started scooping the claws onto my plate, offering a few to Dorian. "I'll make sure to eat what you won't. No point in wasting good food, right?"

Aunt Sara's face darkened, turning almost purple.

She shot to her feet, her voice sharp as a wolf's growl. "No wonder you went to some wildling college. The way you speak to elders? No manners, no upbringing at all!"

"Funny, Aunt Sara, you're the one lecturing me about manners when your precious son chases after a lowly girl like me. Maybe the problem isn't me, but your man-child of a son."

Dorian's hand shot out to grab my arm, but I jerked it away. "Let me go, Dorian,"

Aunt Sara, seeing red, lunged at me, her claws extended, ready to tear into me.

But I was faster, having learned close combat since I was young. I sidestepped easily, watching as Aunt Sara crashed into the wall, her hand throbbing with pain.

Dorian stood frozen for a moment, caught between his sobbing mother and me.

Finally, he snapped.

Without saying a word, he shoved the bottle of Crimson Moon Liquor I had given him back into my hands. "Alice, you shouldn't have treated my mom like that," he muttered, his voice laced with anger.

"Take it back," he sneered, "we don't drink this kind of filthy liquor."

My eyes widened with disbelief.

This wasn't just any liquor-it was a rare blend, aged for decades in ancient barrels, infused with healing herbs from my father's secret stash. This was the kind of drink only a true Alpha would understand.

But Dorian didn't appreciate it.

I looked at Aunt Sara, who had stopped crying and was now smirking with an air of superiority.

"Oh, still whining over a lowly girl, Dorian? That's your problem-you think you're above your Pack, above everyone else. But in the end, you're just a weak , too scared to stand up to your mother."

Dorian's face twisted with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Aunt Sara, whose smirk was now a sneer. "You're right, Aunt Sara, I come from a lowly background. But I'd rather be lowborn with dignity than be a highborn with a man-child for a son."

"Not drinking this kind of liquor?"

"It's not for drinking, Dorian. I use it to soothe my joints and calm the burn of my Alpha blood. You wouldn't understand, would you?"

I stood at the door. "And you, Dorian... You're a grown man, yet you still suckle from your mommy's teat. "