Dawson swallows. “Yes, I am telling you the truth,” he says weakly. He wishes he could tell her the truth, that he is very unhappy here and wants nothing more than to leave this house behind him, but he knows he can’t.
His mother eyes him, trying to decide if he is telling the truth or not. Then she lets her hand drop. “If I find out that you are lying to me, you will regret it,” she snarls angrily before she turns and storms out of the room.
Dawson takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his heart rate slows. He sits back down at his desk and wonders what his mother will do next.
He hears footsteps and looks up to see Iris standing in the doorway. “Hey,” she greets softly. She looks at him worriedly. “Is everything okay?”
He nods weakly. “Yes, everything is fine,” he assures gently. “Don’t worry about me.”
She frowns worriedly but then nods. “Okay,” she agrees. “But if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to come find me, okay?” she offers sweetly.
He smiles sadly at her. She is a good person and deserves a better life than being a slave. “I will,” he promises. She smiles weakly back at him and then turns and walks away.
Dawson watches her go, a smile on his face. He hopes that someday she will be able to get away from here and live the life she deserves.
A few days pass and Iris starts to feel a little better. She still hates it here but at least she is used to it now. She knows the house and its routine inside and out and is finally able to do her job efficiently.
She is dusting the dining room when she hears someone come into the room behind her. She turns around to see Dawson’s mother standing there, looking at her with a cruel smirk on her face.
“You think you can replace me, don’t you?” she accuses bitterly.
Iris shakes her head, confused. “What do you want?” she asks weakly. She is afraid of this woman and does not want to anger her.
The other woman laughs coldly. “You can’t replace me,” she snarls bitterly. “I am his mother and you are nothing but a slave.”
Iris swallows down her fear. “Yes,” she agrees weakly. “I understand that.”
The other woman’s face twists cruelly. “Do you?” she snarls menacingly. She moves closer to Iris, her eyes blazing with anger. “Do you really understand?”
Iris shrinks away from her, afraid of her rage. “No,” she whispers. She knows she said something wrong.
The other woman stops in front of her. She pulls her hand back, ready to strike.
Iris watches her, afraid of what will happen next. She can see the other woman’s rage in her eyes and knows she will not hold back.
“I will kill you,” the other woman snarls menacingly.
Iris whimpers in fear. She does not want to die.
She feels the other woman’s hand connect with her face and feels a wave of pain flood through her. She falls to the floor, clutching at her face.
“Dawson!” she hears the cook cry from the kitchen. “Dawson, help!”
The other woman turns her head to look at him. Iris sees her sneer at him. “She attacked me,” she accuses bitterly. “She slapped me in the face.”
The cook looks back at her, unsure of what to believe. “Iris, is that true?” he asks weakly.
Iris pulls her hands away from her face, revealing the blood seeping from her split lip. “No,” she gasps weakly. “She hit me.”
Dawson bursts into the room before the other woman can answer. “What’s going on?” he demands angrily.
The cook gestures at Iris on the floor and then at the other woman standing over her. “They are fighting,” he explains quickly.
“I don’t know who to believe.”
Dawson looks at his mother. He can see the rage in her eyes and know she attacked Iris first. “Mother,” he growls warningly.
She sneers at him. “Stay out of this,” she snarls coldly. “It has nothing to do with you.”
He shakes his head. “It does when you attack someone under my protection,” he snarls angrily.
She laughs coldly. “She is no one,” she scoffs. “You will forget about her.”
“I will not,” he insists. “She has been with me my whole life and I care about her very much.”
She rolls her eyes scornfully. “She is just a slave,” she sneers disdainfully. “Nothing more than a slave.”
He shakes his head firmly. “I don’t care,” he says. “I still care about her.”
“Then you are stupid,” she snarls. “She is nothing but a stupid slave.”
“I don’t care,” he insists again.
His mother narrows her eyes at him coldly. “Fine, have her,” she says scornfully. “I hope you are happy with her. Because she is nothing but trouble.”
Dawson glares back at her angrily. “Get out of my house,” he growls menacingly. “Now.”
His mother smiles smugly at him. She turns and walks away, confident she has won.
Dawson drops to the floor next to Iris. “Are you okay?”
Iris nods weakly. “Yes,” she says faintly.
“Come on,” he says. He picks her up and carries her from the room.
Iris looks up at him worriedly. She can feel his wolf stirring inside him and knows he is close to changing.
He looks back down at her, his eyes full of anger. “I’m sorry, Iris,” he growls regretfully. “I should have protected you better.”