Chapter5

Since birth, I had never seen my father. My family never mentioned him either. I always thought I was just a child whose father died young. But I didn't feel sad. My grandfather, grandmother, uncle, aunt, and my cousins—especially my mother—they had more than compensated for the lack of a father's love, a thousand times over. It was only later that I accidentally overheard some neighbors talking about my parents' past. "Bob must have stayed in The Blackwood Pack and become a big shot… Poor Evelyn, scarred on her face, raising Lyla all alone. And why was she scarred? Wasn't it to save Bob from those hunters?" To be honest, hearing that back then, I wasn't too upset. I had grown up this much; having a father or not truly didn't matter to me anymore. I just ached for my mother—every night, as she gently patted me, humming soft lullabies to lull me to sleep, there was always a distant sorrow in her eyes. But when she looked at me, her smile was always as soft as moonlight. I thoug