CHAPTER 32: Two Choices

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My injured mate is there. Lying in front of Jackson and Black. Her heartbeat is faint and she's naked save for the little towel they've thrown over her body. I can see her injury clearly. She has a deep bite on her foot. It would be minor, if not for the poison that's weakened her wolf. Now it looks bloody, brutal and almost infected. I make to step towards her, and they flash a silver knife which stops me in my tracks.

"What twisted game are you playing here Black?" I ask, my anger obvious.

"This is called leverage Amari. If you do anything we don't approve, it will take only a second for me to kill her," is his nonchalant response. I let out a growl, but comply because even though I'm fast, I don't think I can get there quick enough.

I don't see Deidra, but I sense her behind me. She makes a move to jump, and I dodge her, grab her hand, move behind her and pin her hand in place. I see she's holding a syringe of more aconite. I break her hand and inject her with the concoction before she can heal. The move immobilises her as she falls to the ground and passes out. I don't want to deal with her right now. Her betrayal is like a punch in the gut. She could have been my Gamma. I left her in charge of Charlotte. I trusted her with the air in my very lungs, and she turns around and shits all over that trust. She won't be forgiven, but right now I need to deal with the more pertinent douchebags that are holding my mate hostage.

I take another step towards Jackson and Black, trying to calculate how to play this and still keep Charlotte safe.

"Don't be rash Amari, or I will kill her. I mean, I can kill her regardless, but right now she is a bargaining chip that he says we need to keep alive... He wants you happy." Denzel says that last part in an amused tone, as if the notion of wanting me happy is so ridiculous. How was this guy ever my friend? My brother. There is such a disparity between who he was and what he has become that I labour to think I ever knew him at all. Right here, in front of me with his dark hair that has grown significantly, along with a slight beard, his angry eyes, and the venom in his tone, I don't recognise him.

Any hint of who he used to be, has been eroded by what seems like years of anger and hatred. This boy used to have nightmares and I'd have to tell him a happy story to get him to fall back to sleep. He used to wake up early in the morning to beat Rita in cooking me breakfast because I'd told him I liked the way he made his eggs one time. This boy who gave Brie a hug every time he saw her because he said she didn't get enough of those at home. The boy who didn't have a birthday so Brie told him they could share hers and made sure to bake him a terrible cake every year. Who I protected from bullies when he first arrived because he was so skinny and frail. Who was my support when I was in the pits of despair. Who was loved and trusted by my parents, by me, by everyone.

This boy who I saw in the forest and felt compelled to save, now stands in front of me with my lifeline lying helpless at his feet as he smirks at my pain after sending an army of rogues to destroy my pack. The pack I brought him in to! I would have done anything for him at some point and time. How the hell did we get here. When did all the love I had for him turn into such a visceral, raging hatred that just looking at him boils my blood and I have to fight the urge to paint this stupid cabin with his insides. I know I'm going to kill him today, and I don't even care.

Something he says catches my attention.

"He?" I repeat, looking at Jackson Keller. Jackson shakes his head with one of his sleazy smiles. Then I remember that smell. The smell that I've been ignoring even though it got stronger when I stepped into this room. The smell I associated with my blood lust, and my blood runs cold. How could he be here? Why would he be here?

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