Confusion

Confusion
BRUCE
"You have to do something!" my sister Megan exclaims while slamming her fist against my desk. "That woman nearly killed Dad! Are you kidding me?"
I have to suppress the urge to run my hand down my face. "For the hundredth time, Megan, I already explained that what happened was an accident. She didn't mean to do it—that's painfully clear at this point."
"That doesn't mean she gets away with no consequences!"
I narrow my eyes at her. "And what will you have me do? Whip her to death? Be physically aggressive? I know we're all frustrated by what happened, but we have to be sensible."
"That woman is a burden, Bruce!"
"That woman," I begin coldly, lowering my voice, "might be the only reason we win this war. Don't make the mistake of thinking I make any decision thoughtlessly."
My sister glares at me before making her way out of my office. My mother stays behind, watching me with an expression that I can't quite read. Frankly, I'm exhausted. I didn't think that I could feel this drained. It hasn't been a full day since the wedding and already, bad things are happening. 
"Is there something you'd like to say, Mom?"
"No, Bruce," she answers coldly before heading toward the door and shutting the door hard enough for me to know that there was plenty more she wanted to say to me. 
Fuck. 
I have to pour myself a drink in order to calm down, but that still doesn't help. The liquor burns all the way down, but it does nothing to wash down the taste of all this bitterness. 
I'm well aware that what happened was serious and that my father almost lost his life, but everyone is blowing this out of proportion. 
I understand that we're all on edge because of the quick changes we're making—in no time at all, I'll be the Alpha King, and my father might be dead by then. War is at our doorstep and we don't know what the outcome will be.
We're doing the best we can and I'm confident that we'll win. After all, why wouldn't we? We're stronger. We have weapons. And now, we also have a bargaining chip. 
What else could fail?
I start to pour myself another drink when the door behind me opens. Again, no knowing. It isn't Megan because she was here already, so it can only be Quinton. 
"I see the whole family's having fun bullying your wife," he comments as he closes the door behind him. I throw him a look over my shoulder before continuing what I'm doing. 
I ignore him entirely. 
"It seems you're not, though, right?" Quinton asks, stopping a few feet away from my desk. 
"What the hell do you want?"
"To talk. We haven't done that in a while, have we?"
"Whose fault is it?"
Quinton scoffs. "Don't act dumb, Bruce. It doesn't suit you."
I whirl around with my glass in hand. "Okay, then. Let's talk about what's really going on here. Enlighten me, then, since you know so much more than I do."
He narrows his eyes at me. "You don't trust me. That's the bigger problem I have. I'm your brother, yet you hand every assignment you've got to Rick. How do you think that makes me feel?"
"Rick has experience being a Beta. You don't. We're at war with the fucking rogues, Quint. What we need are professionals getting the job done right. You're my little brother."
"Don't fucking call me that," he spits. "It's patronizing. I'm trying to help here. Why won't you just trust me? What have I done to deserve this?"
I clench my jaw and stare at him for the longest time as I try to figure out what to say to him in response. Finally, I lose my temper and decide to tell him exactly what I feel. "Let's see, shall we? Firstly, you decided to live somewhere else when it was announced that I'd be Dad's successor."
"That's not entirely true and you know it."
"Secondly, you've never been serious about training, nor do you have a clue about pack politics."
"I'm trying to learn," is his response. 
"Thirdly, you seem to be doing things just to provoke me."
"What, you're referring to your new bride? I feel sorry for her, that's all. I don't think that what we're doing here is fair. And that's part of the reason why I never took an interest in politics—it's all cold and bullshit. Being a leader comes with a heart made of fucking stone. I couldn't take it. It's like all Alphas care about is using people!"
"That's the way of the world, brother."
"No, it doesn't have to be. You're the Alpha King. You can make things better."
"No, I can't," I insist. "And the fact that you can't understand that is exactly the reason why I can't give you the responsibilities you're asking for."
Quinton shakes his head at me. A moment of silence passes before he says, "You're letting this whole thing get to your head, Bruce. This isn't you—we both know that."
"I have to do what's right for the pack."
"And what's that? Using a woman as a means to an end?"
"If that's what it takes."
His face hardens after I say this, and he tilts his head before saying, "Then, you shouldn't mind that I'm getting so close to her, since she's nothing more than a means to an end. Unless you're lying to me and yourself, of course."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Quinton ignores me and heads toward the door. I'm left alone once more, and I have this urge to throw the glass of whiskey against the wall, but I hold onto it and try not to fucking lose my temper. 
It won't help. 
Dammit. What the hell do I do now?
What do I do about Quinton?
Confused, I decide to push this to the back of my mind, and opt not to let Quinton's words get to me. I know I'm doing the right thing and right now, that's all that matters. 
Why should I consume myself thinking about all of this when I know there's no way around it? It doesn't matter what I feel toward her—nothing changes. 
Why, then, do I feel like shit whenever Quinton dares to get close to her?
Why am I defending her even after she tried to kill my father?
Fuck, I don't have the answers to those questions. 
I don't want to.