Objective Consequence (Book Two of the Subjective Justice series)

Chapter Twelve: The Sounds of Death (Edited)

TRIGGER WARNING: HARD VIOLENCE AND GORE

Frost bit at his ungloved fingers as Hawke aimed the gun from Gelick's legs to his head. The lava that ran his life force crackled, freezing in his veins. The starshit shouldn't have stood in his way. Not when he was like this. Like his father. Hawke popped a suppressor pill, but it did nothing to stop it. Indra and Haim had tried multiple combinations over the years and at first, they had worked, they had chased away the Harken monster growing inside of him. It did nothing more than delay the inevitable.

Hawke couldn't remember where he was last night. He couldn't remember where he was for a stretch of three days the week before. The only signs that he had been outside the mansion were the mud on his boots and the dried blood on his hands. It was getting worse. How much longer would it be until he lost all of himself to this creature he was becoming? This monster?

Pain pounded at the back of Hawke's skull, begging for more death, more conquest. It was a foreign feeling, one he knew wasn't his own. He needed it to stop. To be quiet. He'd satisfy it long enough to delay the blood thirst in the presence of those he cared about. What if one day he turned on them? What if he woke covered in the blood of allies? Hawke punched the Lavarkin in the chest and watched them shatter into pieces on the floor. It wasn't enough to satisfy the urge.

Hawke stepped forward, crushing what would have been Gelick's head beneath his boot like glass, at last bringing the violent desires to a temporarily null. "Run." Before I hurt you. I don't want to hurt my family. "I'll see you at home."

Indra, despite her poor state, pulled away from the vigilantes disguised as guards and grabbed his hand. "No. You're coming with us. We can't leave you here."

Clenching his hand into a fist, Hawke resisted the instinct that was screaming in his head. 'She's in the way. Kill her.' "Indra. Let go. Now." It was coming, there was no way to stop it. He knew that within the next few moments, the remainder of the night would be nothing but a blank memory of rage and blood. "It's happening again." Hawke couldn't stop it. Agony began to rip through his hands as the burrowed claws tore their way to the surface. Grimacing, he put his hands where no one could see them as fresh blood dripped down his fingers.

No one else knew what he was talking about, but just having Indra know was enough. More than once she had helped Haim lock him away when a rampage hit, saving everyone from the destruction the Harken side of him sought. It wasn't an instinct to protect, it wasn't a desperate attempt at self-defense, no, it was a thirst for agony, suffering, and blood.

The way Indra's oi'ek stood up stiff at his words made Hawke's chest hurt. Seeing the Se'li who was like a sister to him afraid was like getting his heart crushed into a million pieces. He didn't blame her. He was scared too. Scared of what was going to happen, what the aftermath would be, how many he will have murdered. Or worse—what if he woke up captured on some enemy vessel as someone else? With no knowledge of who he used to be?

"Go!" Hawke cried, feeling the heat from the world around him igniting the growing rage inside. "Go now!"

The vigilantes obeyed him, taking Indra and Akio far from the cells surrounded by lava and stone.

Hawke screamed, falling forward as his wings tore through his back, cracking his spine and ripping at the flesh of his shoulders. His forearm's split open, with searing agony that made the world blurry around him. They turned inside out, growing eight claws from his wrist bone. Crimson dripped from the blackened flesh, puddling on the floor.

How many times?

How many times was this going to happen before it became permanent?

Footsteps halted behind him. "Kill him before he kills you," the Commander's cold voice commanded.