The Twelfth Moon || ✔️

32. Dexter's Execution

Aven had announced yesterday evening that tonight, Dexter would be executed. It would happen in the same place where that guard was sentenced to death. In the gardens, with pyres of fire surrounding all the wolves at the front.

But tonight, the vibe was even more macabre.

Dexter was positioned in the front, where the fires around him illuminated his misshapen features. He was either not healing, or Aven had inflicted some more torture after I saw him yesterday evening. The latter seemed more likely.

I hated to admit how much I enjoyed seeing Dexter like this. All the things he'd done to me over the years.. I hadn't even thought about how he could have been a bigger monster than Beckett, but Beckett had to hold him back from doing even worse to me. Although that was for his own, twisted reasons, I made a note to myself to be thankful for it. How sickening, that I'd feel grateful towards Beckett's mercy.

But still, what Dexter hadn't done to me, didn't outweigh the things he did. He once even went as far as marking me, with a rusty knife. On my thigh, he'd carved an X, signed with his name. I was lucky that the wound healed completely and barely left a scar, given how the rust had given me a nasty infection. But still, Beckett had always done worse.

But yesterday I learned that Dexter was possibly even more monstrous. And who could know what he'd done with other girls, where Beckett didn't exert some sick, twisted claim? Lotta had gotten chills from whatever it was he started doing to that girl in the brothel.

I was sure, more than anything, that I was staring at the embodiment of evil. The man before me was nothing more and nothing less than a sadist, in the purest form.

Yes, he was.

All of his menace had disappeared. Even what was left of it yesterday, all of it was gone now. Aven paced around him, stepping a tiny bit closer to him every few steps. Every movement Aven made, made Dexter flinch. He didn't even try to hide it anymore. Everyone could see that he was a broken man, consumed by terror.

The crowd in the garden began growing. Wolves and humans joined. Everyone wanted to see this, everyone wanted to be a witness to Willis' avenging. And no one in the crowd seemed unsettled by the picture before us. Their hatred for Fire Moon was all too clear.

I'd arrived here early, not wanting to miss a single moment of this. I'd seen them drag Dexter up to the front, his shattered leg not even bothering the guards who were dragging him.

I wanted my face to be one of the last things Dexter ever saw, knowing in his death that ultimately, I had won. I stood at the front of the crowd, where Lotta and Vince had joined me a few moments ago. We'd greeted each other, but I had a knot in my chest that made it difficult for me to talk with them. I did find comfort in their presence, though. I didn't feel alone. And I wanted Dexter to see that, too.

Aven was making a game out of tormenting Dexter in his last moments. He'd gently tap his hair every now and then, or other small gestures, which made Dexter crumble every time. He was so broken. His soul was shattered.

He reminded me of someone's mistreated pet. Trembling and flinching everytime its owner got too close or showed even a kind and affectionate gesture, like petting them.

Aven seemed to have forgotten that scared and abused animals lash out at some point.

Jerr stood next to Aven. He didn't look as unnerved as he did when the guard was executed. His stance was casual, playful even I dared to say. His eyes floated around the crowd, probably monitoring when enough people had arrived for them to begin. When they landed on me, a small, subtle smile grew on his face. It was barely noticeable, but it was comforting. His eyes didn't linger on me for too long before he continued scanning the rest of the crowd.