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Many years ago

In Woodlock, the Duke's young boy walked in the corridors of the Sullivan mansion. Though he had a few more years before becoming an adult, his attire was no less than the adults of the high society members. A white liner shirt with a navy blue vest and diamond-shaped bow pin to hold the navy tie around his collar.

Noah Sullivan's black hair was combed to the side, and the beauty mark under his eye was something that a person's gaze fell upon.

On meeting his father, who stood in one of the corridors with his mother, he heard his father say, "How are your lessons going, Noah?"

The young boy offered his bow to his parents before politely replying, "Very well, father. Mr. Wheeler has started explaining the subjects that concern the Council and the other regular subjects."

His father nodded in satisfaction and said, "One day you will be the Duke of Woodlock Noah, but you have to earn it. Work hard for the position and make our kind proud. You have been doing well with your studies, but what about other things? It has come to my attention that you have been stepping out of the mansion in the middle of the night. Is it true?"

Noah's mother, Hilda Sullivan, looked taken aback by her husband's words, and she looked at her son with disbelief. Not because her son had left the mansion alone but because he had defied the rules her husband had set.

The young boy answered, "I wasn't able to sleep, and took a walk," his voice holding the same politeness as before, even though what was going to happen was already known to him.

"You seem to have trouble following the rules that I set for you and the others, don't you?" The boy could tell his father was displeased with him. He turned to look at one of the servants and ordered, "Bring me bludgeon."

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Lady Hilda got worried and quickly requested her husband by saying, "He's young, Jeffry. All he did was take a walk. He will take time to follow it."

Noah's father shook his head, "If he doesn't learn it now, it will be harder to control him later. If as a Duke's son he cannot follow what I say, how can I expect others to follow and listen to me? He will one day learn to appreciate that all these things were done for his own good."

The servant, who the Duke of Woodlock had ordered, returned with a wooden stick where one end of it was bulged. He handed the stick to the Duke before stepping away from there and moving towards the wall with his head bowed.

"Hands forward, palms facing down," the Duke ordered, ready to discipline his son.

The young boy raised his hands, and when his father raised the wooden stick, his mother pursed her lips, and her eyebrows furrowed.

WHACK!

The boy barely flinched as if used to the punishments given for the slightest disobedience.

WHACK! WHACK!

The wooden stick was hard and continuously hit the back of his fingers and knuckles. His skin started to peel, turning red and traces of blood appeared with the continued smacks. And all that time, his mother felt his pain while the boy stood with his hands raised and not once moving it away. Even the servant flinched at the sound, who stood near the wall.

Because they were a family of werewolves from high society, the punishments were severe and there was no room for mistakes. When the Duke was done handing down the punishment to his son, he said,

"Let us hope you don't do it again, because the next time it won't be just your hands."

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Noah bowed and said, "Forgive me for disappointing you, father. I won't repeat it again."

Footsteps was heard from the corridor, and the Duke's brother, James, appeared. Noticing his nephew's hands dripping with blood, he said,

"It seems like Noah has tested you again. What did he do to receive such severe punishment?" The man walked to step next to the boy and placed a comforting hand on the young boy's shoulder.

"Disobedience seems to be something he likes to associate himself with," Jeffrey stared at his son.

James softly chuckled and said, "Children are bound to make mistakes, brother. If not now, when else will they learn? You are too harsh on him."

"If he didn't break the rules of the house, and not keep in mind about our family name and reputation, he could avoid it," Jeffry replied and said, "We should get the reports submitted today before leaving for the South."

James nodded, and the men left the corridor. Lady Hilda turned to Noah and picked up her son's hands,

"Look at what you did. Why do you refuse to listen to your father?"

She pulled out her handkerchief and went to wrap it around the young boy's hand, but he refused,

"You will stain it, mother and one isn't enough," said the boy eerily calm as if his father hadn't inflicted any wounds on him. He said, "I will go wash my hands."

Lady Hilda sighed and caught hold of her son's hand, "Let me help with it. Come with me." She pulled him to a room, ordering the servant to get her the first aid box. Once the box was brought, she made the young boy sitting in front of her, and started to clean and dress the wounds on his fingers.

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"You know your father does things for your own good, don't you?" The woman asked her son.

"I know," replied the young boy.

His mother said, "Your father and your Uncle James worked very hard to maintain the Sullivan's name in and outside the mansion. Your father wants everyone to look up to you, be proud of you"

"Will he be proud if I listened?" The boy sounded calm like a still river. His father was always dissatisfied, and the only person that met his expectations was his uncle.

Lady Hilda smiled at her son, "Of course, he will. Do not doubt that. Maybe he has a higher expectation from you, and it is just because you are his son and wants the best for you."

"Hm," the boy responded, while watching his mother finish dressing his fingers. He asked, "Why does Uncle James stay with us?"

"Because he and your father are brothers. I guess you could say that since a few years, they grew closer to each other. Not too long ago, your uncle saved your father's life and we owe it to him. If it wasn't for him, I would be a widow and you wouldn't have a father, Noah," explained his mother with a grim expression. "It was a hard day, when James brought your father back to the mansion, there was so much blood, I thought it was the last day I would see your father looking at me."

"He saved father," the young boy murmured, and his mother nodded.

"That's right. We owe it to him, that the happiness in this mansion has been kept safe," the lady placed her hand on the side of his face and smiled. She placed her hand on Noah's shoulder and said, "Family has the strongest bond, the first thing that comes is the blood that we share and are connected by. And then comes the packs, whom you have to live for, be the role model for them so that everyone can follow you."

His mother got up from her seat and made her way towards the door before she turned and asked him, "Please be careful and don't break your father's words. I don't think I can bear to look at more wounds on you."

The young boy offered her a polite smile before replying, "Yes, mother."

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Once his mother left him alone in the room, he stared at his bandaged fingers. His eyebrows subtly furrowed when he bent them and turned them into a fist.