The Worthless Omega's Rise

Chapter 6: Creatures without a heart.

Devon

21 years ago

I'd always loved the idea of collecting things—objects with flaws. Different was the word, a stark contrast to kids who loved appreciating the beauty on the outside. I was obsessed with the flaw, the imperfection. Staring at the cat which clumsily made its way towards me, my lips twitched. The eye on the left was deeply shut, and I assumed it used the other—the right eye—to survive.

Its black fur clung to its body like I'd been soaked in water, revealing the cat's extremely bony structure. It was so frail and weak, I was afraid it'd shatter in my arms.

Leaning on a wall with my fists punched in my blue jacket, my gaze never wavered from the cat. It was imperfectly beautiful, scarred, broken. It was a masterpiece. The cat purred, sticking its paw inside a trash can, and I grinned, taking slow strides towards it. With my hands stretched, I reached for it, “come here.” I'd tried forcing a smile to look approachable, less frightening, but even I could feel the smile falter.

My mother had given birth to me during summer, so she described my birth as the best thing that ever happened to her. She loved summer, the warmth from the sun, having fun at the beach, but she'd told me she never felt the warmth from my smile. Even to her, it was always distant, unwelcoming. My gaze lingered on the stray cat. I'd assumed it would dash away like everyone else, but it purred and gave me a long, fixed stare. We clicked almost immediately.

That night, I took the stray cat from the dark alley and gave it the warmth of a home. I slammed the door hard and yelled “I’m home, mum” with the stray cat in my arms, expecting her usual nagging for coming home with another imperfect masterpiece, but I found her in the pool of her own blood with a knife buried in her chest

The cat fell with a loud thump and I dashed towards Rosie, crying my eyes out as I held her cold body. I gave her my smile—the warmth of it—and pleaded with her to wake up, but she never did.

I didn't even get to hear her last words.

Or feel the warmth of her embrace.

Days passed by and I didn't shed a single tear. I was only consumed by anger, pain, rage. The stray cat—lucy—had been my only companion. After my father's death, my mother, Rosie, oversaw the affairs of the pack as Luna. And now that she is gone?

Present.

The fact that I had photographic memories made growing up hard. I remembered every f*****g thing. My mother's laughter—her nagging— her warm smile and her god damned death which was caused by a witch.

Those vile creatures were literally everywhere. I'd tried to stop their attacks by doubling the security at the border, but a few of them still managed to get in.

Witches weren't only cunning and manipulative, they were blessed with all the beauty in the world. I'd call them the fairest of all, creatures carefully crafted like a beautiful masterpiece, but It was only a facade. Few days to the full moon, they'd undergo a change, something even I couldn't explain. Black, scaly skin would replace their fair ones, rotten nails replacing their smooth and polished fingers. I thought I'd gotten used to seeing the vile creatures that way, but sighting the one before me, my stomach churned.

Her raven-dark hair glistened under the ray of the sun, but her skin was as rough as the bark of a tree.

“She murdered a child, Alpha.” a voice boomed from behind me, making my jaw tighten. Tucking my hands in my pocket, my eyes never wavered from the witch, “how old was the child?”

“Five, my lord. She drove a dagger to his heart.”

Heat flushed through my body, my neck stiffening as I balled my hands into fists. The witch dragged her butt

on the ground, wiggling her toes, trying to break free from the chains bounding her whole body—but it was impossible. The chain had been soaked in holy water to restrict her from chanting spells. She scratched her nails on the pavement, shaking her head furiously, “get me out of this nasty thing!”

“Or what? You'd drive a dagger to my heart, too?”

She raised her head, meeting my gaze as her lips curled into a sly smile, “I'll gladly do it since you just ruined my plans, you bastard!” she seethed, anger swirling in the depths of her eyes. “I was this close.”

“This isn't the first case, Devon.” Matthias stepped forward, his brows furrowed deeply, “this isn't the second either. Witches have been killing kids within that range of age. A few kids in the pack are missing too.”

I sighed out loud, “I know, Matthias, I know. They're driving at something, I can feel it.” From her statement

‘I was this close,’ I saw the desperation in her eyes, that anger that came from failing an important mission for the hundredth time. I tore my gaze from Matthias, staring at the black skinned b***h, “I'm not going to kill you. Yet.”

“Alpha?” Matt’s voice rang out, laced with confusion, and I understood him quite well. It was tradition to burn witches immediately when they were caught. Interrogating them was always out of the picture, but these witches were definitely up to something. A deadly plan. And without Interrogating them, I'd never find out.

“We're going to Interrogate her.” I revealed and gasps filled the space. I'd dashed out of Harlow's room to a small clearing within the pack. We were surrounded by large trees, grass beneath my feet, the constant chirping of birds and crickets, but everywhere suddenly went quiet at my words.

No one could object.

They wouldn't dare to.

“Do you think I'm going to tell you anything?’ The witch hissed, baring her rotten teeth and colored tongue, “I'd rather commit suicide than reveal anything to you.” she snickered, determination in the depths of her eyes.

My lips twitched, “have you heard the tactic of pain?” I took slow strides towards her, watching as she averted her gaze almost immediately. I held her chin, feeling her rough, scaly skin, “I’ll make you beg for mercy but it'll be too late. I'll make sure I break you, crumble your soul and leave you with nothing but the haunting echoes of your own scream.”