Omega Warrior- Book 1 In The Omega Series

The End

Death and suicide ahead. . .you'll see. I apologize in advance!<3

Weeks went by, and the hot summer breezes turned into cold winter nights. The three mates never did anything more than simple exchanges that they could not subdue, for Achilles' body had grown weaker with time. He took on the role as a leader in the Warrior Pack, but served only as a power figure with his paling body and slimmed figure. Eating became harder than normal, and it seemed like a piece of him was missing. Without his memories, Achilles could bit understand what was wrong with him or how to fix it.

Over time the twins and Zayne described the years without him, the death of one of the best leaders they had ever had and Zayne's imprisonment for most if the time. Even after he met Eros and was taught what mates were, he never really felt like the hole in his heart was complete. Instead, it felt as though that hole was slowly but surely burning the strings attaching it, forcing him to be reminded by Azazel, the man in his dream.

"You'll be fine, Achilles. Just get some rest," Zayne whispered soothingly, looking down at his helpless mate. Monica had been nearly nonexistent since they had gotten to the pack, and when he tried to confront her about her absence. Zayne and Eros had repeated the same sentence for a long time after Achilles started growing sicker. Yet never once did he mention the man, in fear that he had just imagined a man so beautiful and heroic.

"Okay. Can you tell me a story, please?" Achilles would ask when the pain was exceptionally high. The stories told by Zayne were usually memories he and Achilles shared together, the choices they had made on certain occasions and risks they had made. Sometimes, when Eros wasn't busy being one if the newest warriors, he too would tell a story if where he came from and why he left. It was the same story every time, but Achilles enjoyed it nonetheless.

"I came from one of the richest, strongest, and beautifulest packs," He would always start, sitting on the bed next to Achilles or on the floor next to the bed and allow the sick werewolf to brush through his hair with shaky hands. "We were everything but cruel. We helped every rogue that entered our grounds, no matter how docile they were. Then one day, it was all gone, and I found myself a rogue, just like the ones I had given money and food to so many times before."

The man would never more in depth than that, but having nothing to do, Achilles let his mind run wild with possibilities that could have been in the story. No matter how many ideas Achilles guessed of, Eros never confirmed nor denied any of them. Until one day, on a particularly cold night, more so than usual.

"Looks like there's no way we can go out in this," Zayne sighed, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen, feet thundering on the hard wooden floor.

"Don't worry baby, he's gonna be okay. Come eat dinner with me while Achilles sleeps," Eros smiled sadly at just the mention of his poor mate, who he had waited to meet after his original one died in the pack's demolition.

The familiar nodded tiredly, energy drained after so much time without shifting into his original form. Zayne had even begun forgetting the look of his blades, since Achilles no longer needed him as a servant rather than a mate.

Upstairs, Achilles had made his way shakily to his small wooden desk, which Eros had built for him after a rather boring afternoon on patrol. He took the #2 pencil in his thin fingers and opened Zayne's old diary to a free page. He felt bad going in his mate's personal book, but he felt the need to do it. His body was extra frail than usual, which he hadn't told Eros or Zayne yet.

To my dearest mates, friends, and family, He began, wincing at how hard writing had become after being as sick as he was. I am writing this in regards to those who I will be leaving behind, who love and care for me as much as I do them. I am doing so because I can feel my body growing weaker day by day. My bones feel like they are hollowing out and my muscles can barely bend without drawing pain. It has come to my attention that I may not have much more time here on this earth, and so I have decided to write this note as one last goodbye to those I love.