by C. R. Jane
"I don't even know where to begin," Wilder muttered warily, frowning at whatever message was on his phone.
"Let's just start hauling everyone in for questioning," I responded airily as I headed up the stairs.
"Daxon," Wilder barked. "You're covered in blood. You need to at least wash off before we start questioning people. They're already terrified of you."
"They're going to be even more terrified of me when I finish," I said through gritted teeth.
Wilder was in front of me in a flash, grabbing me by the neck and pulling me forward.
"Not a good idea right now, buddy," I warned, just itching for a fight.
Wilder's hands only tightened on me.
The urge to descend into that blissful numbness where I was guided by nothing but my hunger and bloodlust was strong.
I'd always prided myself on control. When my father would close the door and bring out his belt or whatever his punishment of choice was that day, I would never cry. I'd let myself cry that first time, and after that, never again. It had been the ultimate frustration for the monster who raised me that those tears never came.
"Boy," he singsonged as he sipped at his whiskey. My mother was comatose in her bedroom already. She'd been in the kitchen trying to make dinner when he'd walked in. She'd turned to greet him, as he expected, and he'd hit her so hard she'd fallen to the hard wooden floor. I'd stood there and watched, as I'd also been trained, while she struggled to hold her whimpers in. Because if I did anything to interfere, it would only be worse for her. One strike. One cry. And then she would be safe in her room for the rest of the night.
Then he'd turn his attention to me.
One turned into many if I tried to stop him. She was safer in that room. Or at least that's what I told myself when the guilt threatened to eat my insides alive.
I wondered what had set him off today? Or was it in general the strain of having to pretend to be a good guy all the time that turned him into this twisted monster behind closed doors. I was exhausted from pretending he was a good guy, from having to hear every day what an awesome man the alpha was when they all should have been plotting his demise.
"Should I finish making dinner, sir?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. He gave me a sickening grin, his teeth sharpening in anticipation as he eyed me. I'm sure plotting whatever sick twisted games I would have to endure that night.
"Leave it, boy. I'm hungry for something else." He pounced before I could take another breath. A few steps and then I was thrown head first down the stairs to where his torture chamber was.
My head hit the concrete wall at the bottom of the stairs and everything went black. Of course, that didn’t fit with my father’s plans. I woke up to a bucket of cold water soaking me, and I stared up at him blearily as the world swam around me.
"You're nothing," he snarled, snapping a horse whip against the ground next to my leg. I stayed perfectly still. If I didn't show fear, maybe, just maybe, he would go away. "You're weak. Not fit to ever be alpha. I could kill you, and no one would miss you."
The next strike lashed against my leg, splitting open my skin, and a sharp howl of pain slipped from my throat. I stared in shock at my leg, realizing that my father must have made some alterations to that whip, because I could clearly see my bone peeking from where my leg had just been sliced open.
A cruel laugh echoed around me. It was never going to end. This would be my life. Forever and ever.
He lifted the whip in the air, and this time I didn't even move as the whip sliced through the skin.
My soul fractured into pieces until all that was left was a demon who wasn't affected by pain...or anything else.
I came back to the present to Wilder staring at me in despair.
I was irrevocably messed up. My consciousness had been lost somewhere behind those closed doors and I'd never bothered to get it back.
"Just go get cleaned up," Wilder asked desperately. "Don't make me choose between saving the pack from you, and finding Rune. I won't make the right choice."
I huffed, but even my inner psycho was desperate to find my girl. The bloodlust could wait. For now.
"I'll be back in thirty minutes. Get to work," I ordered. Harsh sighs of relief came from the betas who had been watching the scene avidly. I didn't give them a second look and instead finished going up the staircase.
I was a little shocked at the literal chaos that could be seen everywhere. As an alpha, you had a responsibility to your pack. To protect them, to guide them, watch over them.
There should have been some feeling inside of me— guilt, self-loathing...anything—as I passed by the members of the townspeople who were whimpering with fear at the sight of me. But I couldn't stir anything up. The only person who'd been able to make me feel for years and years was Rune. Without her, there was a void inside of me. A black hole that was intent on sucking up any latent emotion. I had a feeling that "feral" would be a tame word to describe what would become of me if Rune wasn't found. The Daxon I'd always showed to the world was getting torn apart by the minute.
I was easily capable of making the world burn. They'd only gotten a taste of it.
I strode out of the building and back towards town where my house was. The hunger was building again, and it was all I could do to keep it at bay. I couldn't afford to let loose right now.
When I got to the house, I frowned, sniffing something both familiar and unwelcome as I got to the door. Looking closely at the lock, I could see that it had been tampered with.
I opened the door and walked through, sniffing the air as I did so. Had she just been poking around...or was she still here?
I walked up the stairs, looking in each room as I passed. The smell grew stronger the closer to my bedroom I got. She was still here. And the bitch must have more of a death wish than I'd thought because even when we were together, I'd never let her in my private domain.
I stepped into the entryway of my bedroom, a dark smile slithering across my face.
Looks like I was about to get a little stress reducer after all.
Arcadia was strewn across my bed, completely naked, a come hither look on her face as she arched, thrusting her huge tits forward when she saw me standing there.
"Alpha," she purred, and I shivered...in disgust.
I stared at her clinically, a thousand memories flitting through my mind, all of them tempered by how she'd betrayed me. Except it no longer felt like a betrayal. It felt like a gift.
I knew what the rumor around town was. Part of my golden boy image was that I was the wronged man. The good guy who'd been betrayed by Arcadia, the town slut.
I'd been betrayed alright. But darkness called to darkness. I'd never been the good guy in the story.
But she'd always been the slut.
"What are you doing here, Arcadia?" I asked casually, thinking it was a pity that I was going to have to burn my bed now. Shipping a bed to this town was a bitch.
She turned over to her side, running her hand down the center of her tan skin, reeking of desperation. I scrunched up my nose, the smell sour and disgusting.
"We can be together now," she responded with a giggle.
My body stiffened, suspicion creeping up my spine. "And what exactly do you think has changed," I said in a soft, dangerous voice that she was too stupid to read into. I took a step towards her, my gaze locked on her features, looking for anything to confirm what I was thinking.
"That bitch is gone now," she beamed, with another giggle that was like nails running across a chalkboard.
Another step closer, and then another. I trailed one finger down the side of her face and she leaned into me. Her pupils were blown out, a combination of lust and too much coke. They both distracted her from the fact that things were about to get very, very bad for her.
My psycho gave an eager laugh inside of me. "Did you get rid of her for me, darling?" I purred. "Did you make sure I could be with you?"
Relief flashed in her gaze and anger ripped thr
ough me.
"Yes. I slept with one of the enforcers her ex sent. I told him all about Rune. I did it for us." She gazed at me expectantly, like she was anticipating gratefulness and adoration.
My finger finished trailing down her face and then my hand was squeezing her neck. A cry choked out of her as she began to struggle against my grip, both hands coming up to claw at my hold. But her nails might as well have been little pin pricks for how little they hurt.
"What did you tell him, bitch?" I roared, tightening my grip. The scent of her fear permeated the room, thick and cloying...and delicious.
The sound of my back door crashing open put me on high alert and I stood up straight, Arcadia's neck gripped tightly in my fist as footsteps raced up the stairs. Then Wilder was there, a wild look in his eyes as he took in the scene of me holding a struggling, naked Arcadia.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared as he raced towards me and tackled me to the ground, forcing me to momentarily let go of Arcadia. Her breaths came out in gasps as she struggled to get up as Wilder and I rolled across the floor, each trying to get the upper hand. I grunted when he caught me right in the nose, immediately breaking it. Blood splashed across the both of us and I clawed at his chest, tearing into his shirt and skin as he grunted.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Arcadia struggling to crawl across the floor to the doorway. That wasn't going to happen. I threw Wilder off of me with a huff and then leapt at Arcadia, catching her by the ankle.
"So much for mate," Wilder said sarcastically as he leaned against the wall, rubbing across his already healing chest. "Out of sight and out of mind, right? And then you're back fucking trash?"
Arcadia let out a squeak of either indignation or fear, I wasn't sure which, and I threw back my head and laughed.
"She sold out Rune," I explained as I dragged Arcadia towards me. She whimpered as she tried to kick at me, but a second later I had her in front of me.
"Say that again?" Wilder demanded, the danger clear in his voice.
I picked Arcadia up and threw her back on the bed, grabbing some duct tape out of my drawer. You never knew where you might need to be prepared. Smiling grimly, I quickly taped her arms and legs to the bedpost until she was spread eagle across the bed.
On second thought, maybe that wasn't a good idea. I was seeing far too much of her now.
I snapped my nose back into place, shuddering in pleasure at the bite of pain, and then pulled my switchblade from my pocket.
"What do you want to lose first? Your big toe? An eye?" I asked her.
Before I could say anything, Wilder had her in his grip, shaking her so hard that I heard the vertebrae in her back snap.
"Where is she?" he growled as her eyes rolled back in pain and she passed out.
I sighed. Amateur.
I grabbed a cup of water and threw it over her face, over and over again until she was sputtering back to life.
“Where is she?” I roared.
"I just told him where to find her. That's it!" she wailed.
I grabbed her hand and sliced off her pointer finger.
Her scream rang through the air.
"Let's try this again. Where is she?"
She cried and stared pleadingly at Wilder. "You don't want to do this. You loved me." Her gaze turned towards me. "I was the mother of your child."
I saw red for a second, and when I came to, she was missing the rest of her hand and sobbing hysterically.
"The next words out of your mouth better be what I want or..." I raised my knife and she screamed. "Chicago. He was going to take her back to Chicago. The Colder Pack."
"Finish her," I threw behind me as I strode towards the bathroom, concentrating on not shifting and tearing her to shreds. Chicago. We had to get to Chicago.
Silence permeated the room and I turned around to see Wilder standing over Arcadia, his hands shaking as he looked down at her.
"I can't do it," he finally said with shaking hands. "I-I just can't." A myriad of emotions danced across his face. Hate, sadness, disgust...
"That's fine. I can," I said, before striding towards her, taking her neck, and snapping it. She flopped lifelessly to the bed.
I didn't bother to look at Wilder and see what he was thinking. Only one thing mattered right now.
I'd said before I would destroy the world if I didn't get Rune back.
I would also destroy anything and anyone.
3
Rune
I wanted to die.
I tucked my chin into my chest in despair. I wasn't sure I had it in me to go through having my wolf suppressed again. But she’d been forced deep within me, leaving me bare.
Tears poured down my cheeks, and each breath I sucked in had me shaking harder.
I no longer felt like myself. There was an emptiness where my wolf should have been. The energy, the sense of her warm fur against my insides had been torn from me. It was worse this time because now I knew what it was like to have her with me.
My shoulder blade burned like acid from where the enforcer had marked and cursed me once more, ripping away the one thing that made me whole.
My wolf.
"You don't deserve your wolf...especially not after what you did to me," Alistair growled.
I lifted my gaze to his scornful grin that told me exactly how much he enjoyed every moment of torturing me.
Panic flooded me, and the heavy boom of my heart seemed to make my entire body shudder, but nothing...nothing could fill the gaping hole in my soul from having the wolf suppressed a second time.
No, this couldn't be real. Please let this be a terrible nightmare. Not real. Not this again.
Alistair laughed at my agony and crouched down in front me before grabbing me by the throat. "Now, it's time for your little payback." He tapped the soft skin underneath my eye with the tip of his blade. "Do you have a preference on which one you want to lose? Left or right?"
"Fuck you!" I spat the words, my mind churning with fragments of the past, of everything I'd never have again. Every hair on my body stood on end and sweat snaked down my spine. I swallowed hard, fighting the terror swallowing me.
The harsh light from overhead burned into my eyes, my vision blurring with how viciously I trembled. My thoughts swung to Wilder, to Daxon, to how much I needed them, how they'd opened my eyes to a new world, to experiencing emotions I believed I never deserved.
They gave me what Alistair, my true fated mate, never had.
Love.
Alistair just took and took from me. He had from the moment we’d met.
A sudden, sharp piercing pain stung just beneath my left eye, and I flinched at the promised agony.
Shadows slid across Alistair's face, those darkened eyes sharpening, his tight lips spreading into a smile.
My mind bled with images of him gouging his blade into me, the pain, the blood, and how he'd break me to the point where no one could ever put me back together again.
Not Wilder.
Not Daxon.
And not me.
It seemed the men with the coldest hearts had the ability to destroy everything around them. Evil people who enjoyed torturing others didn't do it to just cause pain. No, they took pride in the agony they caused, then enjoyed blaming their victims. Serial killers collected something from their victims, but for Alistair, his bounty was in the adrenaline and high he got from keeping those he tortured close to him.
They were his trophies.
I hated him at that moment. Far more than I ever had before. No matter what he did to me, I vowed at that moment to never stop fighting. I refused to return to the girl I once was. With or without my wolf, I wouldn't bow down to him ever again.
When he pressed his blade harder, words trembled past my lips, "Moon Goddess, please."
"There is no goddess," he growled in my face. "At least not for you. Do you think someone as pathetic as you would be worthy enough?"
His hand tightened around my throat to the point where I could
no longer draw breath.
My stomach clenched, every part of me tensing as I knew what was coming, and there was nothing I could do about it.
A figure strode into my vision from behind Alistair, and my first thoughts were that it was my savior, carving through the space to come for me. My strained heart soared for those few seconds, and I writhed to escape the monster's grasp.
"Alistair," the person stated in a deep voice I didn't recognize. And the realization hit me harder than I anticipated, cut through me like the blade edged inches from my eye. It wasn't Daxon or Wilder, or anyone else coming for me.
"Come back later," Alistair snarled, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing my throat like he might snap it in half.
Lights danced in my vision while my lungs scorched, screaming for oxygen.
"It can't wait," the man continued, trepidation shaking his words because he knew as well as I. Upset the devil, and you'd feel his wrath. "The back of the mansion is on fire."
"What the fuck!" Alistair ripped his hand from my throat and spun to face the man.
I couldn't hear a thing they said as I frantically gulped for air, trying to fill my starved lungs, all the while my head spinning from almost being choked to death.
"Don't even try and go anywhere," Alistair commanded, looking at me, pointing his blade right in my direction. Then he and the man darted out of the oversized garage.
I gasped loudly, suddenly crying the tears I'd fought to hold back, the terror of what was coming for me ripping right through me.
I didn't waste the moment of freedom I'd been given because I knew how rare they were. I started to shuffle with the seat I remained tied to toward the garage roller door. It had to have a latch or button to open it. My gaze scanned the space for anything like a weapon to free myself from this damn chair, then my eyes landed on a screwdriver near the black van. That would have to do.
Struggling, I shuffled closer when the clap of fast footsteps came in behind me.
My stomach somersaulted, and I fought to twist my head, expecting the worst. Every inch of me trembled, even my throat.
When I did manage to finally look around and lift my head, it wasn't Alistair I saw.