002
1229 Words
Aubrey's POV
My finger flopped uselessly against the back of my hand in completely the opposite direction which it was meant to lie. I kept screaming, my whole vision turned dark from the pain.
When I came to a semblance of my senses, Dad was pummeling his fists into the fallen form of a rogue while yelling, and two others tried to pull him away from their comrade. Oliver watched all this with a smirk. Finally, the two men managed to overpower Dad and force him into submission. They dragged him to the chair all the while kicking and yelling obscenities and dumped him in it. One of the men pulled a dirty handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it into my father's mouth, muffling his yells. Dad tried to spit the gag out, but they punched him and wrapped another piece of filthy cloth around his mouth and jaw, tying it firmly behind his head. The same man who had tied me up then produced another rope from somewhere and proceeded to wrap it around my father's legs and arms, effectively strapping him to the chair, while we both watched helplessly.
"Blissful silence", Oliver sighed. "Finally."
I turned to him vengefully. "You're a monster."
He laughed. "You wanna know who made me this way?" He pointed at my father. "That's him over there."
"You're lying", I cried. "My father would never..."
He waved me off. "I have no time for your theatrics. I want you to watch what I do to people I have scores to settle with."
"What are you going to do with me?", I asked him, trying to keep his attention off Dad.
"We'll come to that, but you must already know."
"Know what?", I asked dumbly. My broken finger throbbed painfully, now sausage sized, the flesh at my knuckle poking out a bit by the bone inside.
"That you'll die, of course", he announced carelessly, then leisurely strolled to Dad.
"This'll hurt*, he said, pulling a wickedly sharp knife from the corner of his boots. It gleamed dully in the dim light, but I would recognize silver anywhere. "Brace up."
With an alarmed yell, I rushed forward to stop him, only to be pulled back by the rogues beside me. Oliver plunged the silver blade into my father's thigh, laughing at the anguished yell of my father and the sizzling of flesh as the silver burned.
I screamed myself hoarse and he pulled out the knife carelessly and plunged it back in a spot two inches from where he had first slammed the knife. Blood spurted upwards as the blade nicked a blood vessel and bathed Oliver's face in specks of red. He grinned, savouring it with relish.
"Stop!", I yelled. "Stop, please! I'll do anything you want me to, just stop!" Tears ran down my cheeks and I was barely coherent.
Oliver paused and looked me up and down lewdly. "Anything?"
I sobbed. "Just leave him alone, please. I won't make any trouble, I swear."
It hurt more than the worst torture to see the man who was all I had left suffer at the hands of the man I had blindly trusted.
Oliver suddenly looked away from my body disinterestedly, but he did stand up.
"You've seen enough, I think", he said. "I'm sure you won't forget this where you're going next."
He advanced towards me, then grabbed me carelessly and began to push me towards the door. I screamed, twisting my head around to catch a glimpse of Dad who was struggling feebly against his bonds, misery and pain etched into the features of his face. His blood pooled on the floor around him slowly.
"Where are you taking me? Leave me alone! I'm staying right here, let me go!"
"Be quiet, will you!", Oliver snapped. "I have sensitive ears."
"Let me be with Dad", I begged. "Please, Oliver."
"What, so you can scream my ears off anytime I touch him? No, thanks."
He shoved me outside, uncaring of the blood splattered on his face as he dragged me towards a side door that led outside the pack house, to the woods.
We tramped noisily through thinning vegetation, me whimpering at his rough treatment. I stumbled and went sprawling down to the ground and instinctively put my hands out to break my fall. Unfortunately, this only meant I landed on my broken finger, making me curl up and writh in pain. Oliver scoffed impatiently and yanked me to my feet by pulling on the dress I wore.
"Wimp", he muttered. "s**t knows how your father expected you to head a pack. I'm probably doing the pack members a favour."
I said nothing as he continued dragging me to a familiar spot. When I realized where he was taking me, I dug my heels into the ground and started struggling.
He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose like an exasperated parent. "I didn't want to have to do this." With another sigh, he yanked me towards him, then swept my feet out from under me, lifting me effortlessly and throwing me over his shoulder.
My breath left me with an oomph and I immediately began trashing, kicking at him with my feet, trying to catch him in the nuts. He caught both my feet effortlessly and gave me a sharp smack across my thighs.
"Stop writhing, bloody hell!", He exclaimed. "Listen, I don't want to have to hurt you any more than I should, but I will if you annoy me more than you already have. Stay still."
"Like hell I will!", I yelled, beating at his back with my bound fists. "Let me go!"
He sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was sardonic. "You know, some men might take the way you're acting as foreplay. Your ass is in my face, Aubrey. I'd stop wriggling if I were you. You don't want me to lose any semblance of honour I have left."
He continued walking while I spluttered.
"Honour!", I cried. "What honour is there in stealing my pack away from me, torturing me and my father, and now bringing me to my death?"
He tsked. "I didn't steal your pack. You gave it to me."
"You promised you would make me your Luna!", I screamed. "We promised each other we were mates. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"What do you think?" He snorted.
"I hate you, Oliver", I said with venom.
"I hate myself sometimes too*, he said. "I understand you. Truly."
The view I had been silently dreading came into my line of sight, and my heart clenched with the fear that I was right. Oliver was going to kill me.
"We're here."
Abruptly, he righted me, setting me down at the very edge of the cliff I had shown him once when I gave him a tour of the full-pack grounds.
I made to run towards safety, but he held me there firmly. I swallowed, adrenaline coursing sluggishly through my veins.
"Last words?"
I didn't want to die. "Oliver...don't do this, I beg you. I - I don't want to die."
Oliver shook his head. "No one does, honey. I'll tell your father you said you loved him. Kind of me, eh?"
I shut my eyes tightly against the sudden wind. "I hate you."
"Goodbye, Aubrey."
He shoved me backwards, and I went falling.
- Writer
