Destiny

by Rachelle Mills et al.

  Outside, I look at the circle that’s forming around Clayton. He’s all puffed out. His face is red in rage, his veins dilating. I can see them on his forearms pulsing with his life. His shirt is torn, his moon’s blood all over it, staining the fabric. His clothes will have to be thrown out. There’s no saving them; they’re ruined completely.

  Kennedy’s father points his finger in his face, but Clayton slaps it away.

  “You people disgust me,” Clayton spits out. “What do you think would happen? What do you think would be the outcome?” Clayton holds his ground not stepping back, while her father takes a step forward.

  “We never expected this,” Kennedy’s father rages. A hard punch to Clayton’s jaw does not stagger him. He takes it willingly, spitting out a mouthful of blood; maybe a tooth comes with it.

  “You never expected this? You had us sleeping together since we were babies. When we were thirteen, you all knew what we were doing in that bed, but you all said nothing. You all encouraged it. We had your approval.” Clayton’s voice sounds slightly pained and tight. A purple, angry-looking bruise is blossoming open on his jaw line.

  More wolves are showing up. They remind me of locusts devouring the sight in front of them.

  “You all thought we would end up mates, and when that didn’t happen, you just wanted us to stop. How could you just stop loving someone? You can’t!” he screams. Fists clenching, blood drips down onto the earth to soak up.

  “We tried to break up, but we just couldn’t. How can you when what we have is real?” His voice cracks.

  “You were so happy that she attacked me, weren’t you? Gave you the excuse to have her shunned by the pack, hoping I would change my mind, come around. Kept her nice and safe from any other wolf who might want to sniff her out.” He’s accusing his father now, pointing fingers in faces that need to be punched.

  More wolves are showing up. I can see them eating up all this family business that should be kept behind closed doors. Except he’s decided to air it all out on the line.

  Clayton turns to Dallas, sizing him up and down. He gives a puff of exhaled breath as if he’s absolutely no real threat to him.

  “You’re going to have to take a number.” That’s all he says to Dallas before turning slightly from him.

  “We never thought this would happen,” Luna Catherine interjects, her female voice sounding high in contrast to the males’ lower threatening rumbles.

  “What? Are you kidding me! You’re the one who told her from birth that she was mine, what a beautiful daughter she is. You were grooming her from birth to be the next Luna. Do you know how bad Kennedy felt when you found out we weren’t mates and you would take her away on ‘hunting trips?’” His fingers make big quotations in the air.

  “She loves you. You paraded her around. She never said anything to you because she just wanted you to like her again. She did everything you asked without complaint. She has done nothing wrong but love me.” His voice cracks slightly. He’s putting it all on the table for these wolves to feast on.

  “I remember the day we sat both families down and told you we weren’t mates. All of you crying, the tears you all shed for us. Then you said we had to stop!” He’s toe to toe with his father now. Same size, one male on the edge of his prime, the other males on the edge of retirement.

  “You thought what a strong bloodline we would make, what pups we would have. I remember the shock on your face, Mom, when you found out Rya was mine. The disappointment, a low rank going to take your spot. You couldn’t believe it.” Such skeletons he’s revealing for all these wolves to see. Family business that should not be made public. He’s showing their opinion of low ranks. Murmuring from the audience starts to grumble in outrage.

  My head lowers at his words. I never really felt we were of low status. My father was a hard worker, and my mother made sure we were clean, fed, went to school. We never went without…ever. We had a good family until I met my mate.

  “Look at her now, Mom! You must have been so surprised when she came back. Not the same little juvenile that left. No, not the same at all.” He’s looking at me now, up and down, his eyes loving what he’s seeing.

  “I hope you never get your claws into her. She’s too good for this family.” His mother looks like the inside of a great grandfather clock, gears shifting, turning, switching with her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, Rya. I would never end you. I don’t have it in me. I feel so sorry you have someone like me as your mate. I have failed you, my pack, the moon. I just couldn’t let her go.” He’s squaring up to both the Alpha and the Beta.

  “I understand what’s going to happen, and I welcome it.” His words are spit in his father’s face.

  “You attacked my daughter!” The big beta’s body blocks out Clayton’s face.

  “She threatened Rya. My wolf wanted the threat gone.” All these males’ eyes turn toward me. I hold them all with mine, not saying a word. What can be said?

  “You know the punishment for attacking another pack member.” The Alpha looks smaller to me now, not as big as he used to be.

  “I do.” He’s resigned to his fate.

  The winds starts to pick up. A maroon shadow from the moon falls across Clayton’s face. Turning green eyes my way, he just holds me in my place. It’s as if he’s looking at me like it will be the last time he will ever see me again.

  “I’m sorry.” The apology is real, full of deep pain. I say nothing back. He doesn’t look like he expected a response.

  “Treat Rya like she deserves. Be good to her.” Hard eyes bored into Dallas.

  Stepping up to the third oldest brother, Cash, his jaw is clenching so tight I can hear teeth break. “As soon as she’s well enough, claim her. Take her away from here.” Cash snaps his teeth at Clayton being held back from his brother’s big hands.

  “She’s the most beautiful female you will ever meet, and her heart is good. Just please give her a chance. She deserves to be truly happy.” A clawed hand tries to swipe at Clayton’s neck. He would be no match for him. Clayton would eat him.

  “Stop.” His mother breathes into his ear, a forceful command no higher than a whisper, and it stills him.

  He gives another look to me before he walks toward his end.

  The supple, worn leather handle rests easily in his hands. Generations of use have made the brown turn dark, shiny. The silver threading that has been woven into the braid is hundreds of years old, yet it does not fray at the end. The master weaver knew how to construct this to last generations. I wonder if our generation could ever make anything like this again.

  The cold is starting to slither from behind, up my back like a snake, slowly creeping higher and higher, wrapping around my neck. I’m not sure I can bear witness to this sight, yet I’m paralyzed, unable to look away.

  He’s standing at the same pole where everyone stands. This pole doesn’t recognize status, only pain. Everyone is equal while taking the whip’s mark.

  His hands are being bound, but not in the flimsy string that would tie a juvenile down. His are locked into place with big metal chains that fasten tight against skin, infused with a high concentration of silver. A full-grown male wolf should know how to behave by now. This is meant to hurt as much as possible.

  His forehead rests against the pole, eyes closing. A tear already comes, not from the physical pain that he’s about to endure, but the way his heart must be blowing apart inside himself.

  He tilts his head up, and the moon greets his eyes. She sees everything in the night. Dark, dangerous when she has to be, beautiful, loving when her children need her to be. His father approaches him, a hand on his head while speaking soft words into his ear. His shirt is ripped off, his back exposing not pristine flesh untouched, but marked with silver-tipped needles.

  KENNEDY is etched across his upper back, shoulder to shoulder. Big black ink dug deep into the skin for it to stay. His mark that can’t be removed, until now.

  The sight cuts into my ox
ygen supply. Looking upward, I don’t know how much I can take of their love that only brings pain.

  He doesn’t move at first. He’s just gripping the pole tight, not making a sound, cheek pressed to the wood that will taste his blood. Eyes closed, a twitch of his face with every descent of the leather handle.

  With the next series of lashes, his head bangs against the pole. A grunt is heard, hands clasping together as he tries to breathe. His father doesn’t stop. A full-grown wolf should know better. His offense has him getting the maximum. The silver will eat him today, will feast on flesh.

  Kimberly makes it to the group, hysterical, screaming for her father to stop. Luna Catherine nods her head to someone as she’s carried away, kicking, clawing. Her brother just looks at her.

  “I love you,” he mouths to her.

  “No, no!” Her voice is a mournful cry, her arms outstretched as her body is pulled away. She’s trying to touch him one last time.

  The kiss of the whip’s tongue ever so slowly fillets the words off his back. The love they share has ruined flesh. With each taste of the whip on skin, patches are starting to be removed, stripping flesh from bone.

  The first cries are heard from his mouth. He drops on one knee, only to stand again. This time the rain of lashes do not stop; they keep coming and coming, until he can’t stand any longer. His body is slowly giving out. He’s crying now, full blown male cries of pain.

  Bound hands try to break free of the chains, and the pole groans and creaks with the effort of him trying to get free. Fingertips raise to the sky. Is the moon kissing them?

  “You know why this is happening?” the Alpha finally speaks.

  “Yes,” a quivering voice responds. The wind brings words from the past to the present, full circle justice for love.

  Breathe.

  I can’t look anymore. This is too much.

  “Watch.” It’s Dallas who is beside me. My hand grips his in mine. Does Clayton see how the tips of my fingers are turning white from lack of blood flow? Clayton tries to hold my eyes. He sees us standing there side by side. His head bows down. He understands.

  Now that the screaming starts, he can’t control it. The whip will always make you sing to the moon—it’s not the song she wants to hear, but the song she has to bear. His body is withering against the lashes. His father’s face is grim, and his mother is on her knees now, mimicking her son.

  The ground is sucking in every drop, none to be wasted. His body sways now slightly, muscles exhausted with the effort of holding himself. He starts to slouch slowly to the ground. The punishment never stops. No more ink is left, nothing but red meat. No skin, it’s been stripped bare.

  The song of the whip is not music to my ears. Clayton’s screams are getting quieter and quieter. Just grunts are coming out now as his body sinks to the barren earth. Nothing grows around the poisoned pole.

  “You will eat last,” the Alpha’s voice rings out for all to hear. Clayton can’t answer back.

  Eyes half closed, half open, as if the eyelids are stuck in that position…I don’t think he can blink any longer. He looks the way his moon looks, half dead. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood. If the father doesn’t stop now, he will die.

  “Stop.” I say it quietly to the night, to the pack, to the moon. He has taken enough. I can’t help the word coming from my mouth.

  Another pack member voices, “Enough.”

  Grumbling from the lower ranks, voices getting louder with the need for this to stop.

  Dallas takes a step forward. “Stop.” He echoes my plea.

  The Alpha drops the whip and walks away, different than when he came. Broken, smaller.

  “Bring him.” Dallas is already turning, walking toward the clinic. He’s going to try and save his competition.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luna Made

  The tree looks all twisted and barren without its leaves. Branches stretch up toward the sky. The moon’s shadowy light makes it look hauntingly beautiful, even though there is nothing that makes them beautiful at the moment.

  Bittersweet velvet warmth runs down my throat, distending my stomach. I feel bloated with the pain that his words caused.

  The leading families have poisoned their young children’s minds since birth against me. It’s almost like a divorced human mother poisoning their young against a father who has done nothing wrong. By the time the young turn into adults, they realize what the mother has done, but it’s too late for that relationship with the father to truly become what it could have been.

  The Alpha is corralled with the Luna and Beta. All three stand shoulder to shoulder as the lower-ranked wolves prowl around slyly. Circling round and round, accusations fly out. The high-pitched voices of females ask, “How could you do that?”

  The lower tenor of the males voices, “Low rank, what does that mean?”

  Power in numbers, that’s what I’m seeing. The alpha is the most powerful, but against a pack he is only as powerful as the lowest-ranked juvenile male.

  Judgment time.

  The low rank wolves make up most of the pack, while the higher ranks are a scattered few. If you have no faith in your leadership, then it’s time for new leaders.

  “She was a juvenile!” another low-ranked female yells from the gathering, a circle that’s slowly tightening around them.

  The moon in all her brilliance is watching. Stars flicker in the darkened sky, like candlelight in the wind.

  The air is unstable as the pack presses into them. Males start to snap jaws, and females are moved to the back by males who don’t want them hurt.

  The illusion of them is wobbling as the light of their actions creates a new, brighter picture for all to see.

  Luna Catherine looks at me, holding my eyes. What does she see when she looks at me? When I look at her, my Wild wants to come to the forefront. The constitution of me wants to challenge her; I want to right the wrongs she has done.

  A crack of my jaw as it comes unhinged shakes my core. A howl lifts up to the moon from my throat that has never howled before.

  My knee is the next to buckle as it shifts, molasses slow. Ripping the tendons, tearing the muscles, it realigns to its natural angle.

  “No,” I cry to the moon. I can’t do this, not here, not now, not in front of these wolves to witness my second shift ever.

  My wolf’s eyes see different colors than I do. The wind blows now, rustling the fur that is starting to consume my naked flesh. Another shift of the opposite hip has me taking a position on all fours. Sinking my fingers into the earth, I beg it to give me strength. I can’t do this. My shirt rips down the middle, exposing muscles that are liquid underneath flesh as the ribs shift into a ribcage of my true form.

  Breathe.

  The wolf in me is trying to tuck me inside her, trying to push me into the background as she ascends. Her eyes don’t leave the Luna’s now. A shoulder pops out of the socket with the weight shifting downward, back curving up, feet stretching, getting longer, higher arched, the shoes nothing more than tattered rubber. The wolf is in control now. A snap of jaw so loud has attention falling our way. Eyes that have never seen me are now seeing who I am…but who am I now?

  “Her eyes,” a female points out, as if just noticing my change now.

  With great heaving pants, the rest of my body moves into its proper position until the only thing left of me is my mind, and even that the wolf now controls.

  A wobble almost has my wolf face down before she recovers her quivering muscles. They have not been used in such a long time, it’s like a new fawn finding its legs.

  Justice, is that what she wants for years spent away?

  As more wolves notice my posturing toward the Luna, they start to back away, letting nature take its course. Survival of the fittest.

  “I won’t fight you,” she yells out to the wolf. The Alpha takes a position in front of her, protecting his queen.

  Ears are flattened down. Intent is there. Nose pulls back, revealing
the sharpened teeth. A paw takes a step toward in intended threat. The Alpha takes a step toward me, guarding the most precious.

  Ridge fur rises up along the spine, puffing the coat of the Wolf up and out. The nature of my Wild wants to become big. Fierce. There are gasps from the crowd as they see something unusual. A sickness has been festering for too long, polluting the pack, making it weaker than it really is. Remove the cause, you remove the poison, letting everything heal.

  Insanity.

  Taking the first leap, my wolf meets the Alpha’s jaws. He shifts like liquid water, smooth. The Wild is no match for a full-grown male. He shakes her neck hard before tossing her away like a rag doll. Blood on our necks tells us that he could have killed but did not.

  The Wild doesn’t stay down like his warning growl says. Instead, it shakes off the bite. Droplets of blood fly into the faces of the wolves, who are open mouthed. Shaking, the Wild is so full of absolute rage it pours off her skin in great waves.

  The nature of my Wild is no turn tail. She meets the Alpha, head raised, teeth flashing. Tail straight, again she sees him not as her Alpha, but as something that needs to be put down.

  What if she fails? Doubt creeps into me. She has no doubt as she lunges again. A shoulder opens up, causing a whimper and limp backward. Now it’s her blood staining the dirt where grass doesn’t grow, mixing with our mate’s blood that has not dried yet.

  The crowd is starting to shift, standing on my right and left. Wolves from my low rank stand together, safety in numbers.

  The pack starts to nip at the haunches of the Alpha and Beta, leaving the Luna alone, saving her for last. She is our mother and should know better. If she could do that to her real offspring, what could she do to us? What has she done to us that we don’t even know about yet? Real mothers don’t do that. She is not worthy to be called Luna.

  This is the pack’s opportunity to cleanse itself, provide its own antidote.

  Snaps, snarls, jagged teeth connect with the fur of leaders who are not leading as they should.

  The Wild crouches herself in toward the confusion, trying to get closer to the real prize, the treasure. Another hard shake to the wolf’s scruff has her yelping in pain again. He does not end us as he easily can.