Chapter 2 Thief

Rylee

Television is a blessing, and I love watching it. The main character in the TV show has everything I dream of-school, hot water, a washing machine, air conditioner, mattress, her own bowl...

And, most importantly, equality and freedom.

Life is hard, and it's nice to daydream once in a while.

Marta won't let me talk about TV shows. She says human stuff is bullshit. Hierarchy is innate; wolves have to follow the rules of their bloodline.

She told me to watch less crap made up by lower beings.

But I really want to ask her: the refrigerator, microwave, and oven are all man-made, and I don't see you using them any less. Of course, I don't ask. I'm not stupid. I don't want to get beaten up.

By the time I get to the kitchen with my basket, it's lunch time. The whole place smells like roast chicken.

It's my birthday today. I have to watch the hit TV show Alpha's Runaway Bride while I eat.

I drop the clothes on a line and drape them around the stove. Then I grab a couple of potatoes from the coals and dash to the corner. Over there, a small black-and-white TV sits on the counter. It's old and low quality, but I'm happy with it. It shows the same programs as Luna's fancy 4K HD TV anyway!

There's a heated discussion at the table, but I don't care at all; I just want to watch the show.

I press the power button.

"I heard that Alpha is fretting these days. Business at the pack is getting worse; it's about to be untenable. Gamma Anto, is that true?"

Huh? Why won't the TV turn on? I check back and forth; nothing seems wrong.

"It's been pretty tough. Alpha is planning on selling some of the useless wolves to the big guys as slaves. Lest they waste our food."

I slap the top of the machine hard. It doesn't work; the screen stays black. I'm getting anxious because I really want to see what happens in the next episode. Last time, the heroine told the hero she wanted to go to school, and the hero handed over a contract. I want to see what the contract says!

"Alas, it depends on who is unlucky enough to be sold into slavery. I've heard that if you're a slave, you live and die at your master's discretion. Great Goddess of the Moon, please don't pick me!"

I unplug the power and signal cables, cradle the TV in my arms, and head for the back door of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Marta. We still need you in the kitchen. Besides, who's better at being a slave than Rylee? Look at her... Rylee!!! What the fuck are you doing?!"

A voice like a landmine explosion yells my name, startling me so much that I almost drop the TV in my hands.

I stop in my tracks and turn my head, bewildered.

It's Gamma Anto, no wonder. Anto and Luna are in cahoots. They both take pleasure in making my life miserable.

Anto stands with his hands on the table, glaring at me angrily. Across from him, Syd is frowning, his fork clenched tightly.

Syd's in the dining room too? I thought he didn't like potlucks.

"Where are you going with the TV in your arms? Do you know it's a FELONY to steal and sell pack assets?" Anto pushes his chair away heavily. Its legs make an unpleasant scraping sound on the floor tiles.

"Gamma," I obediently bow my head, showing him the back of my neck, "I didn't steal the TV. I was going to take it to my bedroom to fix it. It's broken."

Anto rushes over and slaps me across the face. He's so strong that my head is slapped sideways. My check immediately swells up, and my mouth tastes like rust.

He's doing this again. This jerk won't be happy for a day without hitting me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Syd lurch to his feet.

Anto's spit sprays the top of my head. "Who gave you permission to take it away? Who knows if you're going to fix it or sell it? Do you realize what you're doing is stealing? Did I ever tell you no stealing?"

He did, countless times, in front of everyone. But I didn't steal anything, not once!

Anto snatches the TV out of my arms, turns, and shouts, "Marta, Marta, get over here and check the TV! I want to see if the rat is lying."

He pushes his way through the crowd and places the TV on the dining table, plugging the power supply into the nearby outlets.

He pushes through the crowd again and pulls me roughly over. I stumble and fall over.

Next to my face is the TV. I reach up and press the power button, the screen doesn't light up. "Look! It's broken! I didn't steal anything!" I yell in all directions, and with eager eyes. I look over to Marta, who just came over, trembling. Marta could prove that I just like to watch TV and that I wasn't lying.

However, Marta doesn't answer. She avoids even making eye contact with me.

"Marta?" I ask incredulously.

As she pulls the remote out of her apron pocket with trembling hands, I know that this is the end for me.