His parents hated her; that should have been his first sign. 18 and convinced he knew all he needed to about the world, Deborah was his first relationship, and it was a given that his naturally overprotective parents would be wary of this Alpha, who wasn’t even a born pack member, not to mention the age difference (Deborah a substantial five years older than Marion). But from the moment he’d introduced them to each other, hackles were raised, and what he’d hoped would be a peaceful night turned into a game of tug of war, Marion stuck in the middle. To their credit, they did make an effort at the beginning, making polite, if stilted, conversation over drinks. Deborah had been the instigator; some offhanded comment about slim pickings amongst the pack, and Marion being the least offensive option (he pretends that he doesn’t know the exact phrasing of her comment- like he doesn’t hear it echo in his mind even now, years later). Lynda and John both exploded not seconds after she finished speaking, with Deborah firing back about them not being able to take a joke. Marion, never one to draw attention, managed to intervene and calm the three worked up Alphas, cutting the dinner short and letting a seething and tipsy Deborah lead him out the front door, leaving behind two concerned and confused parents.
It wasn’t until a few weeks after the dreaded dinner that Marion saw his parents, and it was clear something had changed. They had always been a tactile family, even for werewolf standards, but Marion kept his distance now, tensing up when his mother went to pull him into a hug. He apologized for the dinner fiasco, shrugging when John asked why he thought he needed to apologize. Their reunion was cut short by the sound of gravel crunching, and a car pulling up the driveway. Marion managed to blurt out one last apology, face paling slightly, before running out to meet the car, pulling the door open and all but throwing himself into the seat. The car tore back down the drive before the passenger door even shut, disappearing from sight seconds later. From then on, they only saw each other at pack events and full moons, Deborah always well within ear shot.
As the years go by, Marion sees less and less of his parents, and Deborah has all but isolated him from the rest of the pack. He’s 21 now, and should be almost finished with his schooling, but he dropped out at 19, after Deborah gave him a cracked rib and accused him of sleeping with a professor. She’s not subtle about the abuse now, not when he has no one to go to for help. It’s a toss up which bruises are darker- the ones she gives him or the stress induced ones under his eyes. She’s had him under her thumb for three years now, and it looks like there is no way out for Marion now. He works from home (he runs the crappy etsy shop for Deborah’s vegan, locally sourced, wildly overpriced clothing- clothing she purchases in bulk from the thrift shop in town), and on a rare good day, he can convince her to let him go with her to the grocery store. Besides answering customer emails and smalltalk with cashiers, his only human contact is Deborah.
She takes advantage of the codependency she’s ignited in him, reinforcing his doubts as to his parents love for him, his place in the pack, anything to cement her in the place of his only companion. She periodically trades in the relentless cruelty with sweetness and seemingly genuine regret, and by the time he’s 22, he feels comfortable enough to sleep with her, and she gets pregnant. The Pack Alpha is getting on in years, and she’s been gunning for the position for months now; an adoring husband and a strong child to continue the Line would make her a very attractive candidate. Except the child isn’t strong- it comes a month too early, weak and pale, and Deborah tunes out the doctors and Marion’s concerned fretting- not even over her, but over their failure of a child! She huffs a derisive laugh, mumbles about how she should have known that any child borne of such a weak Beta would be weak as well, and falls asleep. The newborn will be dead before she wakes, she thinks.
Violet, he’s named the runt, clutching her to his chest defensively when she returns to her house, only to find her useless fiance has turned her office into a sweet little nursery. Interestingly enough, however, instead of crumbling at her anger like usual, he stands his ground, as much as he is able to after five years of systematic emotional and physical abuse. Deborah is too shocked to retaliate, just shakes her head and walks away, and that is how they live their lives for a while. Marion sleeps in Violet’s nursery, not willing to leave her sight for even a second, and starts considering what a year ago would have been unthinkable- leaving Deborah. He knows that this stalemate can only last for so long- one night Violet will cry too loudly, or a diaper will smell too bad, and Deborah will snap. He doesn’t want to know if she would go for him or their daughter in that scenario. After a couple of months, he has a well stocked diaper bag and duffle bag hidden away underneath Violet’s crib, and is $20 short of the bus tickets (one for New York, one for California- to hopefully throw her off the scent) that would take them both as far away from Colorado as possible.
He doesn’t get the chance to try his escape plan. He is jolted from an uneasy sleep by a gloved hand covering his mouth, and the pinprick of a needle.
