The Promise of Happiness novel Atalie and Samuel

Reaching my hand out Ivy places her calloused one in mine and I look around the orphanage bedroom,

the room lined with bunks, for the children we looked after for eight years. I would miss

them. I give Ivy‘s hand a squeeze and she squeezes mine back, but I don‘t let go as we walk out of

the bedroom.

We walk up the long corridors, passing each room and it saddens me knowing I would not wake up tom

orrow to little faces to clean, and little hands dragging

us from our bed to make them breakfast. The children here were the only good

thing about this place. As we passed each room, I

hesitated at Tyson‘s door. I worried who would look after him, he is non–

verbal and had a severe learning disability that Mrs. Daley refused to have him tested. I worried

whether he

would get fed or would Mrs. Daley lock him away again like she did when he first came here. He was s

uch a sweet boy, just misunderstood.

MU

Emotions threatened to choke me as I look at his little bed, the little bed I would sometimes climb into in

the middle of the night to soothe his night terrors. The little bed filled with his

scent. If I wasn‘t going to my own funeral, I would take him with me, but death was no

place for him. He deserved the world and I hoped one day he would have it at his little fingertips. It took

all my willpower to keep walking. This would be the last time we walked these halls, the last time we sa

w the little faces we helped clean and the little hands we held. The corridors are silent as we descend t

he spiral staircase to the floor below.

Chapter 1

Yet as we reached the bottom, the weight lifted off me. We were finally free, free of this life and free of

Mrs. Daley and I would no longer have to hide whenever the butcher came to drop off meat. I would no

longer have to see his face again after today. With that thought in mind I looked at lvy, knowing she wa

s feeling the exact same thing as me. We endured enough and today our suffering ended along with ou

r lives.

“Let‘s go home,” I whispered to her.

Ivy pushed on the double

doors leading to the small courtyard out front, the porch creaked under our feet and I saw the kids playi

ng out the front on the run–down play equipment. I lost count of the amount of times I

have had to patch the kids up after falling from it or pulling

splinters from tiny feet and hands. We stepped out into the bitterly cold air though the cold had never re

ally bothered me. I spent majority of my life on autopilot anyway, barely feeling anything, but it was one

thing I could say Mrs. Daley had taught me. She taught me that emotion gets us nothing. That pain, an

d tears won‘t save us, and she taught me just how

easily someone could break another. The day she locked me in that damn basement with the butcher.

After that day I learned it was better not to feel just switch it off, it is what it is.

The day was overcast, the clouds hiding the sun

making it gloomy. The grey clouds were low, and it looked like it would rain later in the day

–

The kids stop what they‘re doing and rush over, grabbing and reaching for

us, wanting us to play. Tears threaten to bubble and spill but I fight them back looking for my

boy and enjoying seeing them one last time when a car pulls up and parks on the curb. It is sleek

and black, the windows tinted so darkly that we can‘t see who is inside, Yet I don‘t care because I notic

e Tyson come

over to me. His plushie in his hand, and it was missing an eye that I had sewed on one too many times

before giving up.

His eyes were glassy. The kids had no idea where we were going yet looking at Tyson‘s little face I felt

he knew; he knew I wasn‘t coming

back and seeing the distress on his little face broke my heart as I scooped him up.

“Shh, don‘t cry, don‘t cry,” I

whisper, kissing his temple. He was skinny and fit perfectly in my arms. “You be a good boy, try to stay

away from Mrs. Daley okay, and wait for Katrina. Katrina is good, remember,” I tell him and he nods sa

dly, clutching my neck. Ivy brushes her fingers through his hair. Both of us had a soft spot for Tyson, He

was only a few days old when his parents were killed and he was a colicky baby, the first year of his

life I hardly slept and when I did catch a few moments, it was because he was on my chest and now I

was leaving him to this horrid woman.

I inhale deeply, soaking in his scent one last time, savoring it as I silently prayed to the

moon goddess to not let anything happen to him.

1

Ivy nudges me, telling me we should go, and I place him down when I notice the car was still parked by

the curb.

Chapter 2

passenger door opens and two men hop out. They are dressed well, in clean crisp clothes, not a hair o

ut of place and looked picture–ready. Neither looked like what I would expect so–

called royalty to look like. Mrs. Daley rushes out in a hurry. She looked like a mutton dressed up as a la

mb. The old hag had changed into a super tight pencil skirt and blouse, having popped

the first two buttons open as if either of these men would be interested in her wrinkling old floppy tits. T

hey would look like a golf ball in a sock, I had seen her naked once and

I can tell you she had old floppy tits and sported a 70‘s afro that would need a hedge trimmer. Scarred

my eyeballs and Ivy and I snickered about it for weeks afterward. I try not to

laugh and let Ivy tug me along to meet Alpha Brock.

Mrs. Daley looks over at the

two men as they approach the small brick fence surrounding the place. “You must be?” she stops trying

to figure out who they are. “I thought the Lycan King was coming today?” Mrs. Daley asks, looking slig

htly upset. I nod toward them, and Ivy shrug, looking them over.

“He couldn‘t make it, so he sent us instead,” says the man who hopped out of the driver‘s seat. He was

tall, dressed in a suit, and

had blonde hair that shaped his face. Another man got out of the car behind that one, and he had darke

r features. His lips set in what looked like a permanent scowl, and his jaw was clenched tight and hand

s fisted at his sides. He stood at the back

of his car and lit a smoke and I watched as he dragged back on it and nearly stumbled over my own fee

t as Ivy pulled me along. For some reason I found him intriguing, but I shake my head and the thoughts

away. There was something dark and sinister about that man. His dark eyes looked me over

before his eyes went to mine. The endless pools of darkness stared back at me and he smirked, makin

g me tear my eyes away from him and pay attention to where I was walking.

Lycans are different from werewolves; they remained upright when they shifted and were more powerful

human; I had shifted on my eighteenth birthday and what a horrific experience that was, especially when

I was too loud. Lycans, however, are purebloods and lethal beasts.

Lycans are also immortal

though a dying species, go figure. As we stepped out the gate a man I hadn‘t noticed before stepped int

This man commanded attention, seemingly without trying. His suit did nothing to hide the bulk of muscle

away from

him, yet Ivy stared back almost mesmerized by him when he cocks his head to the side, watching her. I

“We should go.” I

whisper I didn‘t want to leave Alpha Brock waiting, he would make our death particularly heinous, and Iv

men were

looking at her. We walk out the small gate when the man with silver sparkling eyes grips Ivy‘s arm tuggin

I gasped as his eyes flickered. Movement out of

the corner of my eyes made me see the man who was smoking toss his cigarette to the gutter a curious

his face as he watched the man holding Ivy‘s arm.

“Rogue?” The man says, and my grip on her hand tightens, the way he looked at her was as

if he wanted to devour her. He turns his attention toward Mrs. Daley and lets her arm go before looking

at

me and I quickly drop my gaze, as we both duck our heads in submission. The man growls and Mrs. Da

way she sneered at lvy.

“Yes, sir, they are just on their way. Run along, girls,” Mrs. Daley says, and we both nodded and I tug on

We made our way into town. This side of the town was run–

down, and the lawns were overgrown, litter filled and clogged the gutters and leaves coated the ground

as we walked. Most of the houses had

been destroyed by a storm that blew through the town a few months ago, leaving most homes

abandoned.

There was only one way in and out of this town as it only had only road leading in. The forest surroundin

us secluded from any human towns, packs tended to stick to themselves and after years

of hiding they eventually forgot about the werewolves and we became

folklore or myth. Yet all myths and legends started somewhere and that was usually with a version of tru

Both syy and I looked to the forest longingly. If only

we could escape. I sighed the only freedom we would get was with

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