Don't Love the Big Boss

Twenty Years Ago.

GIOVANNI.

My eyes fluttered open and I was more than shocked to find myself trapped inside a cage. As I looked up, I saw the kids that I thought were my good friends surrounding me. Their faces wore twisted expressions of delight as they watched me struggle within the confines of the small enclosure they had confined me to.

"G... Gaston! Please, I don't enjoy this kind of game," I pleaded, reaching my hands out through the bars. Tears welled up in my eyes as I desperately tried to grab hold of my older brother's fabric as if my life depended on it.

"And who said we were playing? You're nothing more than a slave, destined for cages and filth. Stop your whining," he retorted, his friends joining in with uproarious laughter as if he had just cracked the greatest joke of the century.

"But... but... we're brothers," I stammered, the word catching in my throat.

"Not by choice, but by force. Call us brothers again, and next time it won't be a cage, but a swift river. Let's go, guys," Gaston concluded, striding towards the path that led out of the woods—a path I had never been familiar with, no matter how hard I had tried. His friends followed suit, engaged in lively conversation, their silhouettes fading into the distance as tears streamed down my face.

We had been sent to a summer camp to mingle with humans and gain knowledge about human relationships. Our lives had been confined to the walls of our lavish mansion, home-schooled and hidden from the outside world. To the public eye, we were merely a wealthy family, but behind closed doors, we were what humans referred to as werewolves.

In Italian society, there were several families like ours, interconnected and acquainted. We gathered for meetings regularly. Our father held the esteemed position of the alpha, a title he had acquired through cunning and subterfuge, overthrowing the previous alpha. He was a fearsome figure, not only as the leader of our pack but also as a dangerous mafia boss with a vast empire of legal and illegal enterprises. Additionally, he inherited the prestigious Callisto label, a brand synonymous with our family name, which he had successfully expanded to twelve countries worldwide after our grandfather's untimely demise.

The callisto label was actually what the public knew our family for. The label was known for manufacturing fashion luxury goods. lifestyle accessories, furniture, fragrances, watches, jewelry, ready-to-wear, lingerie, shoes, heels, cosmetics and many more. Its product lines include handbags, ready-to-wear, footwear, accessories, makeup, fragrances, and home decoration. Callisto label was founded in 1901 by Alessandro Callisto, our grandfather.

Now, coming to united states for summer camp was supposed to be a whole new experience and one full of good memories for me but Gaston being the bully that he was had succeeded in turning most of the kids against me by fabricating lies and spreading stories about me. We were both popular as soon as we walked through the gates of the camp, partly due to the limousine that dropped us off and the other part due to the fact that we were the only Italians. I remember a kid asking me why we had come all the way from italy just for summer camp and I only kept mute, not wanting to tell her that father just wanted us to be faraway from home and learn to be on our own. To him, it was some kind of training we had to undergo before we become men.

I remained seated in the uncomfortable cage, hoping that Gaston would have a change of mind soon and come to unlock the cage. I heard a little rustling coming from the dried leaves on the ground as I immediately looked up to see a girl around my age coming towards me with a confused look on her face. As she moved closer, her familiarity hit me, she was the same girl who had asked why I came all the way to United states from Italy for summer camp. She had told me that her name was Kiki.