Blue Moon » Stilinski

Thirteen

            That’s when it hits me: This war isn’t something that’s coming. It’s already started.

            It’s already having an effect on everyone in its path, bringing casualties on both sides.

            Realization dawns on me, my eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re talking about the hunter the kanima killed. You’re talking about Liz.”

            Her eyes flit to mine, her irises swimming with things left unsaid. Anguish, grief, regret, despair. Everything that was warring inside of me is mirrored in her gaze, and I can hear the quiver of her heart when she whispers, “Yes. I’m talking about Liz.”

            “You loved her, didn’t you?” I let my words hover in the air as she bites her lip and returns her gaze to the window, as if she’s waiting for the soldiers to come back home. Something that Ben wrote in his letter floats through my mind: It’s okay to grieve over something that you’ve lost― that is what makes you human. It only takes a second to make the decision to cross the room and place my hand on her shoulder.

            She smiles faintly, the ghost of it reflected in the glass. When she speaks, her voice is steadier than I would have expected. “Now you know why I need to see Roxanne dead. If Liz were here… if she were here, she would probably tell me that revenge never accomplished anything. But I need for Roxanne to suffer― I need for her to be taken care of. I figured you wouldn’t be too opposed to that.”

            I scoff lightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “No, I definitely am not opposed to it. It’s something I’ve wanted for a while, and you make a compelling case, but… but what’s your plan for the aftermath? Who’s going to take over after her death?”

            She grins at that, an elongated, vicious smile. Her eyes alight with ferocious fire, face smeared with war paint. “No one is going to take over after she’s dead. Don’t you see? We’re a pack full of alphas, Aubrey. There shouldn’t be anyone leading us― we’re the leaders.”

            A small thrill runs through me, despite my hatred fear disgust. There is something undeniably appealing about having no head alpha. About claiming our birthrights, our victories― about letting our eyes shine scarlet while we clasp power between our bloody claws. The tiniest of smiles appears on my face, and I shake away the thought as fast as it had come. “This pack would be uncontrollable with no leader. Tell me that you don’t think half of the people here would kill someone if Roxanne let them, and I’ll believe you.”

            She opens her mouth, her protest freezing before the words can even form. Without a leader, the alpha pack would be thrown into chaos. Part of me visualizes a world where the members of the alpha pack are allowed to take whatever they desire, with no thought to the consequences. Rivers of bloods flow through my irises, valleys of bones painted against the backs of my eyelids. I try to ignore the slight flutter of my heart against my ribcage. I am not a monster I am not a monster I am―

            “Unless,” Zella says, her eyes lighting with an idea as she paces in front of the window. “Unless after Roxanne’s death, the alpha pack disbands all together. This many alphas in one place was never a good idea to begin with.”

            You think? My fingers drum against my thighs as the gears in my brain turn, revealing more problems than solutions. “So the alpha pack disbands. Now there’s a bunch of alphas running around by themselves, and what’s the first thing that they’re going to do? They’re going to seek a pack. We can’t have a bunch of werewolves going around randomly biting people. Too much of a risk.” I feel a little bit more of me fall away, my mind a toxic stream of watered-down morals. I don’t mean too much risk for the humans― I mean it’s too much of a chance of our species being found out.