WILD WOLF

PART THIRTY FOUR: R.I.P

WILD WOLF

PART THIRTY FOUR: R.I.P

He slammed his head into my nose, my hand jerked across his throat, the wound wasn't deep. His fingers dug into my wrist, twisting it at a painful angle. The glass shard dropped onto the ground. He was up in seconds, wrenching the glass from his eye socket, his face was stained with blood, chest rising and falling quickly. He was blinded in one eye, the other couldn't contain his disbelief, his heartbreak, his rage over my attempt to end his life. I had betrayed him, he could hardly get his head around the last two minutes. "You tried to kill me?" it was a surreal idea, he was stunned.

I dusted my knees, rising to face him. I smiled, the action felt forced, cynical. "I wish I had." His wounds would heal in time, his eye would take longer than any other skin-deep cut. What wouldn't mend, would no longer fit together was his idea of me and the reality of me. I watched as he went through a cycle of emotions and feelings: I was going to be his wife, the woman to give him pups, share a home with, continue our bloodline...Not anymore. How was this possible?

"You hate me so much that you'd do that to me? No remorse?"

"None whatsoever."

"You hate me," he repeated. It was a startling revelation. An eye-opener (pardon the pun), he finally realised how I felt towards him. He was hurt. His gaze watered. Now I was surprised. He was crying. This macho man had been reduced to tears. "I ...I did this to you?"

"Angel," Cerberus placed a hand on his shoulder. "We should go, I'll take you to a doctor."

"Yes, you did," I wasn't going to sugar-coat the truth. "Shall I list the things you've done to me? Threatened to rape me, to tell my father of my activities, forced yourself on me, threatened to kill any lovers I take to bed–"

"That's enough!" Cerberus growled.

"Is it?" I laughed scornfully. "My God. You barely knew me and you put a claim to me. Nothing I would say would make you see sense. Women are not to be owned, they do not exist for your pleasure, they owe you nothing. You are not entitled to another's time, space, being. You are offended by my rejections, I am offended by the way you act towards women. You are scum and I don't pity you. I wish I had killed you."

"Myra–"

"Don't speak over me, don't you dare try to shut me down." I glowered at Cerberus. "Your silence in this is violence. You know what he's been doing is wrong but you sit back and turn the other cheek. I am not going to pat him on his head, tell him his mistakes don't make him, that it's okay. Because it's not. Own your faults, recognise them, realise how toxic this mentality you are in is, and change, wolf."

"There isn't a way I could convince you to–" Angel tried. His attempts were wretched, and quite frankly, embarrassing.

"Absolutely not. I have no interest in you. You'll find someone, though, and I hope you treat her well." I looked around the shop, picked up my clothes, hurriedly pushed my legs through my jeans. "The witch has escaped, let her leave. The mayor is not big on second chances, you'll be thrown out of town or executed. Be smart about your decisions. Make friends with the witches, give them reason to trust you, and then when the time is right, kill every one of them. They're hiding Margaret Chan and Morgan Gillis and we won't find them if we continue to act like savages. Put on an act and make it convincing."

I left the shop, closing the door after me. I was a ragged, bloody mess. People warily stared at me as I passed them. I paid them no attention. I was like a hound dog, sniffing urgently, searching for Cassandra's scent. I found her outside the mall, hobbling down a busy street. Humans were giving her a wide berth, gaping children were hurried along. She looked like a beaten, bruised piece of meat. I kept my distance, waiting until we reached a quieter road where no humans were around.