My Dark Mate [2021: Editing]

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"My mother once told me that when you lost your mate, it would be like tearing away half of yourself and that you'd never be able to fix that part of you again; that you would never again be whole. And she was right, because after she died, my father was never the same again. It was especially bad for him because of his Alpha blood which made his wolf extra dominant within his being." Logan explained; meeting my eyes as he unconsciously grabbed my hands.

I squeezed them reassuringly as if to urge him to continue. He did as his eyes drifted back to the table in front of us. "My mother was bringing me around our territory on her back while she was in wolf form. At the time, I wasn't able to shift yet, so I had been in my human form. We weren't even that close to the town when we were surrounded by a group of humans.

My mother had thought they were just people who had accidentally stumbled too far into the woods; until they pulled out their guns. She didn't even think before she put me down and shifted back; trying to show them that she wasn't a threat. She'd told them that she wouldn't hurt them and that there was no reason to be afraid." My mate's fist clenched as the scene played out in his head.

"They had just laughed at her, saying that one of 'her kind' would never be able to hurt them. It turns out that they'd all been part of an association called The Seekers; a group of humans who are trained to hunt and kill shifters." That really exists?! I wondered to myself. My mate nodded, the question coming to him through our bond.

"They're still around, even now. They hadn't even cared that she was in human form. I couldn't do anything as they all shot at her at once." Logan's eyes were completely black as his hold on my hands tightened. "The bullets they were using were made of silver, so the wounds couldn't even begin to heal before they fired off their next shots. I was fucking powerless to do anything as I watched bullet after bullet tear through my mother's flesh." He bit out.

He seemed to have noticed the confusion on my face at the mention of silver. "Wounds inflicted by silver take longer to heal. No one really knows why, but they really do. My father used to use silver to inflict injuries on prisoners he was torturing.

We currently use it in the form of chains we put around prisoner’s necks to block communication. That’s also something silver does to us; it blocks the mind links we have to other shifters and even to our own wolves. All those stories that humans tell are true in a way; if you wanted to kill one of us, a weapon made of silver would be their best bet." He explained.

I could see his canines lengthening as he continued; getting more and more agitated. "She was screaming in pain but she still managed to tell me to run. I couldn't though; all I could so was stare as her body began to collapse in on itself.

When they were done, you couldn't even call my mother's corpse a body. All I saw was a pile of red on the blood soaked ground. They call us abominations but what they did was the most inhuman thing I'd ever seen; that is, until my father arrived.

He'd heard my mother’s cries for help through their bond; but that was only because none of silver bullets had gotten lodged inside her body, so she could still call to him. He’d gotten there right before The Seekers were about to do the same thing to me as they did to my mother; the knowledge that I couldn't even shift not even bothering them.

He'd ripped them apart; drenching the ground in their disgusting blood. He clawed them each in half and dragged them around while they bled; some of them he slowly clawed to death." My mate barked out a dark, humourless chuckle as his eyes became wild.

"The Seekers deserved what they got, the only thing I wish I could've done differently was to be able to partake in making them suffer; to hear their screams of agony and know that I was the cause of them. My father had torn at their flesh for hours after they were dead, until all that was left of those worthless bastards were piles of chipped bone and flesh. He didn't even check on me before he shifted and knelt by my mother. That was the only time I'd ever seen him cry.