Eighteen

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Pain is inevitable. Pain is something that shapes who we are. Perhaps not just by pain its self, but how we deal and overcome it. It's the definition of the world. Without it where would we be? Who would we be?

Pain is inevitable. It's everywhere you turn and look. Pain can be physical. Mental. or Verbal. Pain can also be seeing someone you love do something you never thought that they were capable of, even though you have seen it happen before.

Pain is what I felt when my mate tore the throat out of that dog back at the fighting pits. Pain is what I saw when I found her in that room. Pain is what I heard when she woke up and attacked Matt. But I don't see, or hear pain right now. Right now, staring into her blood-red eyes, I only see anger and determination. For what, I do not know.

But I do know that even though I don't see or hear pain for her right now, I still feel it. Because nothing hurts worse than seeing someone you love do something you never thought they were capable of. Even if they have done it countless times before.

I tried talking to her. I tried to calm her down, convince her that she needed to let go, but her sad green eyes faltered as I said her name, as I tried to get closer. I tried pleading with her. While the others were trying to distract her from the body in her jaws, just seconds from bleeding out. But that anger and determination that I saw in her eyes were quickly focused on me before she snapped his neck. She let Toby fall with a wet thump as he landed in his own pool of blood.

Two.

 She had killed two pack members now. Luckily Tod had not found his mate yet so I didn't have to worry about another distraught member barging in and trying to avenge her other half. She will find another who is now destined to be hers and never have to suffer the pain that lasts with you after feeling them get ripped from your life. I glanced over at Kara who gripped my arm tightly as her eyes remained focused on Toby's body, no doubt thinking of Matt, although I doubt there was ever a second that when by that she didn't think about him.

When my mother passed my father spiraled down a dark road, never leaving the house, saying everything reminded him of her. I didn't know what he meant then. I was only twelve. But as I got older I understood. I understood that everything didn't necessarily mean everything, but the ones that called out to him and showed him pieces of his true love that he will never get back. How the fresh meadow breeze reminded him of her scent, how the sky reflected her blue eyes that caught a tint of grey when the clouds rolled in, and how the bark on the trees reminded him of her rich brown hair that fell down around her shoulder, cascading down her back in gentle waves.

But most importantly I was reminded of my mother the most at this moment as I looked into Max's eyes and saw what killed her.

Eight years ago my father's mate was killed by a rouge that had lost its self in its own insanity, in its thirst for blood. My father had him put down. The difference between that wolf and Max was, that feral rouge was made that way by his own doing. He had made himself deranged and murderous to try and prove that he was better than my father. 

That man was my uncle, my father's brother.

I highly doubted that Max had done this willingly. And Carson, her handler, solidified that doubt.

She was staring at me now with an intensity that I didn't know existed. A rumbling growl sounded from her chest as she took a slow, purposeful step in my direction, her pupils dilated and blood-tinted drool hanging from her jaws. Before I could say anything she was leaping at me for what seemed like the eighteenth time, but before she could skink her teeth back in me, I rolled away, putting pressure in my healing arm while doing so.

I shrugged off the sting of it as I found my way back to my feet, trying to keep my mate from ripping me to shreds. I turned to face her, but she wasn't where I expected her to be, I thought she would have rounded on the next closes person, but instead, she kept coming at me.

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