everyone dies in the end.

04

Xander's anger was strong enough to tear all of those people in half without even needing to use any of his strength. That was how angry he was at Viola for betraying him.

She was tied to the chair with barbed coils of silver, the stench of her blood and burning flesh seeping into the air. Viola's pale eyes were screaming, in pain and anger. Although she was a beta, she still was not strong enough to endure the burn of silver, the one weakness of every werewolf.

Not only did silver burn them, but witches cursed the horrendous metal to dampen their powers to the point of a human's strength, making it a perfect material for blending in. However, it was rare for a wolf to endure the pain and to disguise their burning flesh.

"Are you sorry for what you did yet?" Xander twirled the knife around his fingers, patiently waiting for an apology. He hated to admit it, but he had a soft spot for Viola. She had served as his beta for as long as he was alpha, and before that she was his best friend and closest companion.

"Are you sorry?" She countered, the blood on her wrist dripping down her hands and onto the floor, creating a dark red puddle.

"For what? Killing your mate? He was a nuisance, always going back to the Bureau and never listening to me." Xander shrugged as she looked at him like he was crazy, which he was, but don't tell Xander that.

"Count yourself lucky, Vi. If you were anyone else you'd be dead." He bent down to get to eye level with her, "Just repent and we can go back to how we were before." His eyes were pleading with her. He most certainly didn't want to kill someone whom he spent so much time molding and shaping into the perfect beta.

Viola's eyes softened. Despite her heartbreak and anger, Xander was still her friend. But then she remembered. What he did. For the hundredth time that day, she saw her friend... her family, with his large claws protruding from his hand that was against her mate's throat, his other hand buried within the ocean waves of his hair, yanking her mate's head higher towards him.

She tried to do something. Anything. Move. But instead she froze, her mouth open as her eyes held the terror and fear. He had finally been discovered and this was his punishment.

How cowardly of her. To think that as he was dying while she did nothing to stop him.

She opened her mouth to yell at him to stop. To beg him to stop. But all that came out was a quiet, shrill squeak as Xander's claws glazed his throat drawing four messy streams of blood.

She froze as Xander wrapped his thumb across the back of her mate's throat and tore his head off, blood splattering everywhere. On the walls. On his face. On her face.

"Off with his head," She still heard that faint whisper, more quiet than a breath in an empty street as his head rolled around the carpet. Painting a Pollock with bloodshed.

Xander thought of this too. He was so glad to finally be rid of him that he even found a way to be dramatic through it, like he was in a Shakespeare play.

Unlike Viola, Xander thought it was like a game...And he won.

"Bring her back to the cellar. She'll come around," Xander spoke to the wolves that were guarding the door, who promptly shifted and yanked Viola's arms up, dragging her up from the chair. They were careful not to touch the silver, in fear of the pain. Such cowards.

Xander was ready to follow them out of the hospital, but then he heard it. A voice calling out to him in the midst of all the blood and gore. She's here, it hummed. Your queen, it continued to hum, almost as if it were singing a song.

Xander was so confused as to whom was speaking, but he followed it anyway. The humming getting louder and louder, like a constant ringing in his ears.