His Beastly Finale

Chapter Eleven: "Revelations"

Chapter Eleven:

--Revelations--

"Tu ... noroi trădător ... abject rău ... nemernicule sângeroase urât!"

"You traitorous... mud-defiling ... bloody ugly abject evil ... motherfucker!"

(A Split Second Later…)

Zackary lunged—

There is no better way to describe how his lean wulfen form leapt at the redhead. There is no better way to describe how only his very will kept himself from switching forms in public and being killed on the spot.

Zackary’s lips could not form words; as they were pulled back in a deep snarl as he tackled his once-beloved redhead. 

They once to play like this all the time back when Ellie would sit in the audience and giggle. Loren would laugh and say Damien would never have a chance at winning because he was too small. Zackary’s mother would smile sadly and say a few words in agreement. 

Damien would scoff and say it wasn’t his fault he was short, only about five foot six or seven, while Zackary was at or very close to six foot seven or eight. 

But at the end of the day when Zackary would walk his beloved home, you could tell who was truly stronger when it came down to arriving late with Joyce standing at the door with her trusted and worn battle sword being polished in her lap.

It was silver-encrusted with Irish symbols and languages. All of them meaning to bear the sword with luck for protection and victory, Joyce had said to Damien while he was young. 

The symbols brought good luck to all who had held it. She would say it would shine only when someone worthy of it came across it, Joyce had said, it would harm any others who dared to cross it. He remembered when he was little and he had tried to take it down from the shelf in the den. 

He could feel the brute strength of his father’s hand yet again even as he saw his only son bleeding out from his shoulder when he had unintentionally caused the sword’s edge to scrape over his shoulder and take a small strip of meant on its way downward only to dive right into the wooden floor.

But those were happier times in a bleak world…

The first punch sounded like a crack of thunder between them. To Zackary, it was self-delivered vengeance for disrespecting the dead and insulting your alpha. That he had even allowed Damien to get to him was a sign of true anger and disrespect. But beating him into submission would be sweet.

Vengeance was always sweet.

It was a very high act of treason between wulfen. One he was sure he made sure to remind Damien countless time when around him. He couldn’t say certain things on his father or about Zackary, himself; otherwise he risked a fight… he most assuredly would not win.

“Damn you, Damien cursed, snarling and throwing a punch of his own only to have his hand received in a crushing grip. He heard a snap and fought not to wince. Hyacinth eyes narrowed as he raised his leg and wrapped it around Zackary. Meeting the older wulfen’s dark eyes, he bit his lip from the pain and threw the wulfen over him to land on his stomach with Damien on his back. 

The first thing he did in that position was take hold of Zackary’s short hair and slam the head it belonged to into the cobblestone ground. Said wulfen growled and pushed up from the rough treatment, eyes nearly black with wulfen anger, as he made a deep snarl that pulsated throughout his whole body and into Damien.