Claws Of Retribution
1726 Words
A faint breeze stirred the dust over the cracked concrete of the deserted training ground as the afternoon sun spread long shadows through the place.
“Water…” the man pleaded, a dry, hoarse sound escaping from his cracked lips.
He was bound tightly to one of the targets. Deep claw marks marred his upper body; his face, battered and bruised to a sickening shade of purplish-black, was barely recognizable.
Arvis shifted his stance, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as the strap of his shooting gear pressed against his chest, accentuating every sculpted line of his abs. His eyes were cold, shadowed by a dark fury that made the other man tremble.
“Please… enough…” he whispered in a broken voice.
But Arvis pulled the trigger, a sharp gunshot slicing through the air as the bullet narrowly grazed the man’s ear, a deliberate miss. He flinched, eyes wide in panic, a strangled cry escaping his parched throat.
Arvis remained motionless, his posture deceptively at ease, yet the air around him crackled with unspoken menace.
“P-Please, have mercy!” The man’s voice cracked and then broke into shrill pleas as a barrage of bullets was aimed his way. Some bullets tore his flesh, while some almost ended his life―staining his soiled clothes in a deep shade of crimson.
Tears and snot ran down his face as he watched Arvis with panicked eyes.
On the other hand, the Alpha asked in an unnervingly calm voice, “Still playing dumb? Perhaps I should use my claws again.”
He held the gun delicately, tracing its surface with an eerie nonchalance.
“I haven’t forgotten how you dared to lay those filthy hands on my Luna,” Arvis murmured, voice low, measured, every word laced with venom. His gaze locked onto the man’s with a predatory intensity, “Shall I remind you?”
Arvis stepped closer, pressing the hot nuzzle of the gun beneath the man’s chin, forcing him to meet Arvis’s dark, unsettling gaze, “Where should I begin this time?” he asked softly as he grasped the man’s elbow, allowing his nails bit into the flesh. “Shall I tear off your arm, inch by inch? Or perhaps those legs you dared to stand on?”
The captive shuddered, his breaths becoming rugged and short as a new wave of raw panic settled in his heart. An alpha’s rage, driven to the edge by his mate’s danger, was beyond comparison, boundless and brutal.
And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it a moment longer.
“I-I swear, it wasn’t me!” The man’s eyes brimmed with tears, his voice a choked whisper. “I only followed orders. It was the leader—”
“Where is he?” Arvis coldly asked, “How did you get into my pack’s territory?”
“I don’t know! He abandoned us to die when your pack members ambushed us!” The man now trembled from broken sobs.
Arvis’ gaze darkened, a maelstrom of thoughts raging through his mind. ‘What kind of mate am I?’ He was supposed to be Aerith’s strength, her shield, and he had betrayed the bond that should have bound them unbreakably together.
‘What if this is too late?’
He only chose Elenora to keep those men from targeting Aerith again, but had he ever truly grasped the significance of their bond? Despite always claiming that Aerith was his priority, he had never truly acknowledged her as his fated mate.
He thought he was protecting her, but was it really a man’s devotion to the love of his life or just a sense of obligation? But what did that matter now? The damage was done. The woman he loved was gone—driven away by his own hand.
Arvis’ jaw clenched tight, his claws digging into the captive’s arm as a blood-curdling scream echoed through the silence.
“Alpha,” a hesitant voice brought Arvis out of his mind. His gaze shifted to the guard standing a few meters away. The man’s posture was rigid. His hands were clasped tightly before him, clutching a piece of tattered fabric dark with blood.
“What did you find?” Arvis growled in a low, menacing voice.
Daring not to meet his Alpha’s gaze, the guard slowly raised the torn cloth in his hands. Arvis’s eyes narrowed as he walked forward, and his chest tightened as the faint scent on the fabric hit his senses.
A dark, burning rage flared through his heart.
Arvis reluctantly reached out, fingers brushing against the stained cloth, his mind reeling with the implications. A storm of emotions flashed across his face—anger, fear, and something far more dangerous before his expression hardened.
“We found this along the shoreline,” the man reported, his voice quivering nervously as he hesitated, the weight of his following words hanging heavily in the air. “There were signs of a mutant attack and remains of slaughtered werewolves…”
Arvis’s fingers tightened around the cloth, “This is Aerith’s,” he murmured.
“I’m afraid the L-Luna might not be anymore,” the guard stammered, his face pale and eyes wide with fear.
Arvis’s gaze darkened as he roughly seized the guard by his collar, yanking him forward. “Have you lost your damned mind?!” he growled in a low, dangerous voice.
The guard gasped, struggling to breathe as he shivered under the Alpha’s barely restrained fury, “P-please, forgive me! I overstepped!”
The Alpha they all revered for his unshakable composure seemed to have transformed into someone else recently. Sensing the immense fear radiating off the man, Arvis loosened his grip on the collar.
“I should have been there myself,” Arvis growled bitterly, clenching his fists tight, “Get in the car. I’m going to handle this personally,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“But, Alpha—” the guard stammered, his voice catching as he struggled to find the words, fear flickering in his eyes once more.
“What?” Arvis’s voice lashed out like a whip, his scowl deepening.
“Sir Richard... he’s requesting your presence at the pack office. Immediately,” The guard hesitated, his voice faltering as he weighed his next words, unsure if finishing the message would cost him his life. After a heartbeat, he forced it out. “Lady Elenora... She’s waiting there too, th-there’s something important they want to talk about!”
Arvis’s jaw tightened. He clicked his tongue in frustration, ‘Of all the damn moments!’
* * *
Aerith carefully positioned the carapace fragment over Melena’s wound. Her fingers trembled slightly as she exhaled a steadying breath, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. Melena’s brow furrowed in response, her body shuddering with a soft gasp of pain.
Seconds ticked by like an eternity.
Nothing happened, and although no one said anything, the silence was thick with doubt and distrust. Everyone was watching her, and Aerith’s heart raced restlessly as she forced herself to maintain her focus, ignoring the whispers slowly snaking through the crowd.
She closed her eyes and allowed her power to surge through her once more, channeling it into Melena’s body to intercept and contain the oncoming energy that threatened to tear through them both.
“Look at her pretending,” someone sneered.
Aerith’s heart skipped a beat, but just as she thought she would be asked to move away, a dim glow emanated from the carapace. Aerith’s eyes widened as the light pulsed, spreading in a rippling wave through the veins around the wound.
Hope flickered in Aerith’s chest as the fragment drew the dark essence toward it like a beacon. Melena’s face softened, her breaths steadying, as the malevolent force was being drained away.
“It’s working,” Aerith murmured, her voice shaking with relief.
The carapace glowed brighter, and with each beat, the dark veins faded, replaced by a healthy flush. The dark essence gathered beneath the skin of Melena’s wounded shoulder. Murmurs of astonishment spread among the onlookers.
“She actually did it!” The disbelief was palpable, giving way to scattered applause and nods of approval.
Aerith swayed slightly, her limbs heavy from the effort. “I can’t remove it entirely,” she explained, her voice strained yet steady. “The essence isn’t directly from the mutant’s core. But it can no longer drain her life force.”
Melena’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her gaze slightly unfocused. Winslie exhaled a sigh of relief while Mathias’ voice wavered as he helped her sit up, “Melena! How are you feeling?”
His eyes shone with a mix of joy and worry. Melena weakly turned her head towards Aerith. A faint, grateful smile tugged at her lips.
“So, the beauty saved the beast,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Beast?” Winslie echoed playfully as he gently ruffled her hair. “Who’s that supposed to be?”
Her smile widened. “Aren’t we all?” she asked softly. “We are wolves, after all.”
“Then why does she get to be the beauty?” Winslie asked with a fake frown, tilting his head towards Aerith, his voice adopting a theatrical pout. “Have you seen my face? It’s a masterpiece.”
Melena rolled her eyes while Mathias and others laughed among themselves.
Aerith could only smile a little as her heart sank a little.
This organization felt different from any she had known. The bond they shared was more than just professional—it was familial, something she had always been an outsider to. Watching their interactions, she felt a bittersweet ache, as if she were peering through a window at a life that could never be hers.
Just then, Winslie stood up from Melena’s side and walked towards Aerith. She blinked, her confusion growing as he approached her. When he knelt before her, it felt as if the world had stopped for a moment.
“What are you—” she began, but her voice faltered as he extended his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. His smile was disarmingly warm, and the sincerity in his gaze made her heart stutter.
“Will you join Neo?” Winslie asked, each word wrapping around her like a promise.
- Writer
