Violently beautiful
810 Words
Lara
He stalks forward.
At first, I think he’s coming for me—but then I see it. The angle of his body, the purposeful bend of his legs as he pushes past me. He’s not coming for me. He’s coming for him.
The human.
I barely have time to register it. One second, he’s behind me. The next, he’s gliding like shadowed death on all fours toward the scumbag who stole my bag.
The last thing I hear is the thief’s voice begging for mercy.
Then—
“Wait! What are you doing?!” I shriek, panic ripping through me. He’s really going to kill him. But why? He doesn’t even know me.
He hesitates—just for a second—at the sound of my scream.
That’s all I need.
My eyes dart, searching for anything—a rock, a stick, a bottle. Nothing. The alley’s as dry and empty as a graveyard in winter.
You know, because no one visits graves when it’s too damn cold.
No time to think.
He’s abusing his power. Does he think killing humans is a sport?
With my luck, I don’t even get a stick. So I do the only thing I can.
I run.
Not away—though every nerve in my body screams at me to. I run toward the puddle of a man who just pissed himself.
His face Is pale. He looks ready to faint.
Strangely, he also looks… calm? No. Subdued. Like he’s already accepted it.
All thanks to the Big. Bad. Wolf.
Another growl cuts the air—guttural, sharp, edged in death.
Those predator eyes narrow with pure annoyance. His aura turns blacker, like it just dipped thirty degrees into the underworld.
I force myself to speak. My hands curl into fists.
“Wolves don’t kill humans! It’s literally rule number one!”
That gets him. He stops mid-step. Tilts his head.
That’s the law. Unless you’re a complete scumbag rogue, wolves don’t kill humans. Please, don’t be that.
A growl rumbles low in his chest. Dangerous. But he doesn’t move. Not yet.
Behind me, the thief finds his voice. Bad move.
“Why are you talking to it?! Call animal control!”
“What are you doing talking to it?! Find something to kill it!”
My lips twitch. This bastard. Is he trying to get us killed?
“Quiet,” I snap, needing to think.
“Me?! What about you?! Did you call this animal on me because I robbed you?!”
“If I did, would I be standing here with my arms outstretched?! Are you nuts?!” I scream back.
“Yes!”
“Oh, shut up,” I snap. “Your piss is still steaming and you think I had time to plan an assassination?”
“I’ll sue! My mother’s the Prime Minister!”
“Of what? Delusion?”
“I’m serious!”
“Yeah? File the complaint when you’re not about to die, dumbass!”
“You bi—”
A growl.
No—that is not a growl.
That is the sound of death.
I gulp. Words worked before. Maybe they’ll work again.
“Look, I get it. You saw him steal my purse and—and I appreciate the whole ‘dark avenger’ thing you’ve got going on, but—”
He side-steps me.
He. Side-steps. Me.
I spin just in time to see blood explode across the alley walls.
It sprays across my chest—warm, thick.
The thief’s scream dies before it even forms.
I don’t breathe. I just run.
Dive, really.
I collapse beside what’s left.
Wait—can I even call this a body? His limbs are… gone. His chest is open.
My hands press to his neck, searching for a pulse.
Nothing.
Still, I start CPR.
It’s stupid. I know it is. But my hands don’t listen. My brain doesn’t listen.
I am a doctor. I save lives. I don’t watch them get ripped apart.
And yet… he killed him. For me.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
The voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife.
I look up.
He’s shifted.
Human now. Naked. And unfairly, violently beautiful.
Muscles carved like art. Hair too perfect for someone who just committed murder.
Even under moonlight, with shadows dancing over us, he looks like sin given form.
He killed a man.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he says, tone like ice. “I played hero. Just not for you.”
I shove to my feet. “Are you proud of that?”
He shrugs. “Do I look guilty?”
My fists clench. I’m trembling. Furious.
“Why?! For sport? Do you get off on killing the helpless?! Is that it?!”
He stops walking. Turns slowly. His red glowing red glowing eyes face me.
Oh, boy. I'm...dead.
- Writer
