Annalise looked over to her aunt in confusion. What was she talking about? “What do you mean?” Annalise asked.
“Maybe you should come inside,” Hyacinthe offered, ushering them both indoors like there was some deep dark secret about to be revealed. It kind of felt like maybe there was. “You have to be the one to do it, Annalise,” she said firmly, not giving any explanation as to what in the world she meant by that. “Nobody else can do it.”
“I don’t understand,” Annalise told her, looking at her like she might have lost it and gone off the deep end finally.
“Do you remember a woman that you helped when you were a child, one who was begging for us to protect her children?” Hyacinthe asked. Annalise thought back, and she did remember a woman who came begging for help, a woman she wasn't supposed to know anything about because she wasn’t supposed to be listening in. It was one of the first outsiders she had read the lifelines of. She remembered her desperation and sadness as well as her long dark hair; dark hair that she supposed did resemble…Orson’s.
“No!” Annalise explained. “That was their mother? She didn’t seem like a wolf at all,” Annalise hissed through her teeth, unsure how that could have happened.
“I told you that you should have asked who she was and who her sons were before you protected them,” Hyacinthe told her. There was no hint of mocking in her tone like Annalise would expect to hear. At least that was a blessing.
“So, I was protecting Orson, Roman, and Isaiah.” It was a statement, not a question. That meant she never did need to protect Isaiah. Nobody could have ever touched him to begin with. “Were they ever made aware of this?” Annalise asked, wondering if she had been looking like a total idiot trying to protect an alpha that could only be killed by her hands.
“No, they don’t know, Annalise. You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to. You do have to be the one who kills Orson,” she clarified, leaving Annalise wobbly on her feet. She felt herself crash onto the couch. She had thought little about that day for years, putting it in the back of her mind. She never thought it would come back to bite her like that. The problem was, executing Orson would either connect her and Isaiah on some level forever, no matter how she tried to escape it, or it would make him hate her forever. She was not sure which one would be worse, but it didn't matter. It was happening.
“I am going to kill Orson,” she whispered to herself as Hyacinthe sat by her side in a move to comfort her. The woman hadn't done that since Annalise was a child. Annalise did not know how she was going to do this. Would she ever be able to tell the brothers she had met their mother and used her blood to protect them? She just hoped there would never come a time where either of the other two brothers needed to die because she wouldn't be able to do that. She wasn't going to kill Isaiah or Roman, so she guessed they would be living a long life.
Isaiah turned on his heel and went inside the cabin. It was dark outside now, and he had just let the entire pack know he had decided that his little brother would be executed for his crimes. He couldn't face them any longer after that, though they were happy at the call for bloodshed. He didn't know if it was because they were feeling the betrayal or because they were bored and calling for blood. He didn’t know how he had turned out so different than the rest of the werewolves he knew. They were all more instinct, and sure he felt that. He loved the way he felt when he was a wolf, but it wasn’t about carnage. It was about freedom.
Tamara came up to him and wrapped her arm around him, rubbing at his shoulder. The night before they had come to some sort of understanding. They were going to do their duty and be there for each other, and they were no longer going to force things. Yet, here she was, angering him with the way she was touching him.
“I know that had to be hard for you, Isaiah. Would you like to talk about it?” she asked in a soft, kind voice. Isaiah should have been grateful for her comfort, but he just felt like she was trying to force herself down his throat again. It wasn't something he needed right now.
“I am not sure you are the best person to talk to about this. You did fight me on it to begin with,” Isaiah said, perhaps a little too harshly. Tamara still led him into the bedroom and shut the door, placing her hand on his thigh as they sat on the bed in the dark. He didn't know why she was trying so hard all of a sudden. But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe this was real, but it didn't feel right regardless.
“I am your mate. I should be the person you talk to. I know I have to live with the decision you made, no matter how you came to that conclusion.” Isaiah didn't like the hinting in her words. It was like she knew he had asked for Annalise’s help and was bringing her into the equation again.
“Just because I asked for advice, doesn’t make it not my decision,” Isaiah defended. “And maybe you’re right, that you should be the person I talk to about this, but it’s hard when you disagree at every turn and bring Annalise into the mix where she doesn’t need to be. If you want us to move on from that being a problem, then you have to stop bringing her to the table, Tamara,” he told her flat out.
Tamara scooted away from him, a glistening of possible tears in her eyes. Isaiah wasn't sure he said anything that would make Tamara of all people cry, but he had apparently hit a nerve, a rather sensitive one at that. “I am not the one bringing her into this. You should have let her waltz out of here so many times, but you keep dragging her back in like a cat playing with its food.”
Isaiah shook his head in annoyance. Tamara made it sound like he was stringing all these women along against their will. “I think it’s best if I sleep somewhere else tonight,” he suggested, not meeting her eyes.
“No, wait,” Tamara said, coming close to him again and wrapping her arms around him desperately. It was a weak move she never thought she would make. How was the ultimate relationship, her father had been trying to set up her whole life, falling apart like this? It should have been easy. “I’m sorry for what I said. I will try and let her go. She’s back with the coven now, so it doesn't even matter. I just want to be able to be there for you. I may not agree that Orson should die, but the decision has been made. I can’t believe it is an easy one to live with. Let me help you.”
Isaiah looked at her before shrugging her off of him. He wouldn't leave the room, but he didn't want her comfort right now. “My brother will die tomorrow on an order I gave,” he told Tamara. “I just need some time and space is all. Thanks for trying.” Isaiah laid down and tried to ignore the shaking of the bed, with her silent sobs. He had too much to be responsible for, already, to worry about hurting his mate's feelings. They both needed to be strong for the way things were headed.
Tamara hugged herself tightly and tried to sleep, resigning herself to the fact that she would never get that perfect mate relationship with Isaiah, even when everything blew over.
CHAPTER FIVE
It had been several years since a sentencing had been carried out in front of the pack, especially an execution. Tamara had suspected that after all the chaotic executions and other punishments that she heard had happened after Isaiah’s father took control, Isaiah would bring peace. His father made sure he was so feared, no one dared to cross him unless they were suicidal. The peace that the pack had supposedly had under the last several years of his rule was hard won. There had been something brewing under the surface the whole time.
If Tamara had paid as much attention as she should have, considering she was destined to be with a Young brother, then she would have been able to feel it. Their childhood was not the idealistic one she had painted in her head. She had just put her focus on a narrow window instead of seeing things for what they really were.
Now, in the first year of Isaiah’s rein, not only would there be an execution, but it would be of one of the Young brothers! Everyone would be there to watch him die. Well, everyone but her father. His excuse would be that he was too old and ill, but the real reason was he did not want to watch a Young brother die. He felt it was witnessing the end of an era t
hat was a shame to be lost. He didn't understand why brother had turned on brother, and she couldn’t find the words to explain it to him. The truth was that Tamara understood more than she would have liked to about all of it.
Tamara had heard from her father that the rest of the pack was calling for blood. They didn't like that they had been duped, especially by a member of the alpha’s line. Even though she did not know how she was going to watch Orson die today, she knew that Isaiah had made the right decision from the standpoint of being alpha. There would have been a lynch mob for him, if he had let it slide even a little.
Tamara looked out the window and watched as a makeshift stage was being put together in the space outside of the cabin. It was like they were putting on a play or something rather than killing a prisoner; a prisoner that was a Young, no less. Why did it have to be such a spectacle?
She heard his feet shuffling into the room, but she kept watching outside anyway. She needed a distraction from trying to comfort him once again. The last time she had done that, it had failed.
It didn't surprise her that he didn’t say a word. Not only had he made it clear that he was angry with the way she was handling things, but he also had a lot on his mind, like the impending death of his brother.
There was already a small crowd forming outside of the cabin, as if it was a concert they were waiting for. The execution could easily be hours away depending on how Isaiah was feeling and how everything was supposed to go down. She didn't understand why everyone was so eager to see this happen, even if Orson had done something horrible.
“You should eat something,” Isaiah commented, startling Tamara out of her thoughts. She turned around to see him chewing on some microwave bacon and sipping a cup of tomato juice of all things. It was almost comical, but it wasn't the kind of day where she could make herself laugh.
“I don't know that I could keep it down if I ate anything,” she admitted, “but I will have some of that tomato juice.” She pointed to his cup before going into the cute kitchen that had grown on her and pulled out the tomato juice, pouring some into a cup. She sat at the table across from him in more silence, but a comfortable one. It was the most normal she had felt around him in weeks, at best. Maybe they should try that more often.
“So, it’s the day,” she said awkwardly, sick of the silence, even if it did feel comfortable. “What is the plan?” He hadn’t told her exactly how it was going to go down yet. She hoped he would choose something humane. She would be expected to be there in the audience front and center, to support Isaiah in all of this. She didn't think she could, if Orson was going to suffer.
“Annalise is supposed to be coming to take care of it. I wanted to make sure it was as painless as possible, and Hyacinthe thought it was best that Annalise did it. I guess it’s supposed to send a message about our new cooperation and about the fact that Orson hurt both of us. I don’t know. I just know that I need it to be over with so we can move onto better things.” Isaiah reached over and placed his hand on top of Tamara’s, to her surprise. She hadn’t expected that show of affection from him, but it was welcome in that moment. It was going to be a hard day, and maybe she did have something to look forward to after the execution was all over with. Things would go back to normal, or at least as normal as possible. There wouldn’t have to be all this drama and worry over betrayal and the witches. It would just be about the pack going forward.
“It makes sense to me. I am glad he won't have to suffer,” Tamara whispered, holding onto his hand. “I saw that there were already some people gathering around to watch. Maybe we should get the guards and go ahead. What do you think?” Tamara asked him calmly. Getting it over with sounded good to her.
Isaiah nodded. “Lacy, Hector, get in here!” he called in a booming voice. How he could hide the anguish going on inside of him so well, she couldn't imagine. She felt like she would tear up at any moment. Would the pack think it was okay for her to cry over the loss of Orson Young, though? She couldn’t be sure. She would have to find a way to get it together.
Lacy and Hector came into the room. They were dressed and ready to go and must have just been trying to give them some needed privacy. It was different from what things were like with Annalise around. There was never time to be alone.
Tamara and Isaiah stood up from the table and were flanked as they walked out, holding hands in a united front. They were ready to greet everyone that had begun to crowd together in front of the stage that was now fully set up. It resembled a stage set up in old times for a mass hanging, but there was nowhere to hang someone from. It was just an elevated step of sorts, nothing more.
Orson had not been brought up yet, but it was just a matter of time. They wouldn’t keep Isaiah or the pack waiting. Isaiah leaned down to give Tamara a kiss on the cheek. “I need to be up there. Will you be alright out here?” he asked. As if he could actually change the protocol, if she said she wouldn’t be alright. She wanted no part of this anyway, not beyond silent support.
“I’ll be fine,” Tamara answered, whether it was a lie or not remained to be seen. She watched him take his place on stage. The rolling sound of drums, mixed with the howling of many, in the still growing crowd, announced the fact that Orson was being brought up. Tamara kept her eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with Orson. She realized, though, as he came up on stage with the guards that had been watching him, as well as flanked by a witch on either side, there was no way she could have seen his eyes, not yet.
Tamara felt a tap on her shoulder just before Roman appeared by her side. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be up there with Isaiah,” Tamara said, looking him over delicately. She knew he wasn't taking any of it well, despite his attempt to keep it together, like always. At some point, he would have to stop and deal with it all head on, or he was going to lose it.
“If I should be up there, then so should you. I have begun to wonder if he spends more time by Annalise’s side rather than yours,” Roman commented in a bitter tone, one Tamara did not recognize. This whole thing was doing a number on him. Tamara turned to focus on Roman, rather than the set up on stage, where Orson was being readied for the execution. If she had to guess, less than ten of the pack members were missing from the crowd at this point.
“Roman, you don’t need to start right now. Do not disrespect your brother at this hard time. He is about to have to kill his brother. Your brother,” Tamara added for his benefit. “He is doing what he has to.”
“It sounds like you have changed your tune from where it was just mere days ago. I know that she has been a problem for the two of you, living there and always having her hand in everything,” Roman suggested, probing her in a way she did not like. Tamara shot him a look as Isaiah began to step up to speak. This was not the time for this, at all. “Look, I am just making an observation,” Roman said in a calmer tone. “We were all friends, best friends, Tamara. I care about you too.” There was that gentleness in his voice she remembered. He was cracking under the pressure. Tamara reached over and grabbed his hand silently, letting him know she would be there for him too. They were all family now; all the family they had left.
“I know,” Tamara managed to say before Isaiah’s voice carried over the crowd, a crowd antsy and ready to watch one of the Young brothers die.
“We are here today to carry out the sentencing for a pack member who has committed the highest crime of our kind,” Isaiah began. His usual authoritative air was faltering, and Tamara felt horrible for him. She did wish he would let her be a part of this in some way, find a way to comfort him.
“Orson Young has committed treason against the pack and against myself, the alpha of the pack, and he has been sentenced to death by public execution, as is our law. I want this to be a sign of my reign as alpha. I will not accept this kind of a challenge and danger to my pack, no matter who it comes from.” Tamara looked to Roman who was squeezing her hand so tight it was going numb. “As is tradition, the prisoner will get the cha
nce to say any last words he has for us, before the execution is carried out. It will be carried out by a member of the coven to ensure the humaneness of the act.”
Isaiah stepped back, and Tamara watched as he looked to his brother. What was he seeing there?
Isaiah knew it was almost time. He almost hoped that Orson had a lot to say, something that would make him angry enough to turn away. Asking a witch to do this was the right thing. He never could have done it. “Orson Young, what will your last words be?” Isaiah asked, trying not to meet his gaze. He didn't know if he could handle that. Instead, his eyes went to Annalise, the only rock he had at the moment. The crowd seemed so far away. He could not reach Tamara or Roman, nor did he know what he would find there if he could. So, his eyes landed on those blue orbs that drew him in so easily. Right now was the only time he needed to be lost in them.
“I accept the punishment for my crimes,” Orson rasped out, a shadow of his former self. He hardly sounded like his usual cocky self. He didn't sound defeated, but perhaps resigned. “I have committed more than you know, and I guess all these murders and these lies have caught up with me. I have no regrets. None other than one. I regret the bloodline I come from, and I can promise you all, that as long as the Youngs run this pack, chaos will always come. The Young family is a curse.” Orson turned and spit at Isaiah, though he missed his mark.
Isaiah had heard enough. He nodded his signal to Annalise, letting her know it was time. She nodded back and stepped forward, not having the same problem as the others when it came to looking at him. In fact, she felt like she had to. The knowledge that she was the only one who could do this was a burden. She tried to pull the memory of the woman out of the back of her mind. She remembered the long dark hair and now couldn’t believe she had not noticed she was Orson’s mother. They looked so much alike. And Roman as well, had that same look about him. It was only Isaiah, who looked like a younger version of his father, who did not bare that resemblance. Had his presence really blinded her, or had her charity done so?
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