Heath (discontinued)

✿ epiphany ✿

How was it even possible to possess eyes this colour, the rarest shade of violet?

Who the hell was Heath? And what secrets were he hiding?

I got pulled out of my daze when his head lowered so that his eyes were level with mine, and they burned with such intensity, I flinched. They were filled with pure, unadulterated fury, fury directed at me, and I felt as if his gaze alone could sear through my skin,

"You have put the whole pack into danger," he said, voice so brutally cold and unrecognisable, I barely kept from flinching.

He sounded...pissed. Really, really pissed. The most pissed I've ever seen him. And it was also the scariest I've ever seen him, if the quake in my knees and my heart racing in my chest were any indication.

I felt like my heart could leap out of my chest at any moment, and my stomach flipped as I forced myself not to keel under the heavy weight of his furious stare.

"Are you satisfied now, Alessandra?" he tilted his head to the side, a cold mocking smile on his face. "Are you satisfied you'll finally get to see the kids die in the hands of the hunters? When just a day ago you were having fun and eating pizza with them, or had that all been an act too?" His lips curled in distaste.

He was breaking me, word by word, syllable by syllable, and I felt my facade slowly crumble.

But he wasn't finished, and he ploughed on, nails digging into my wrist.

"How about Mariam and Elliot? Are you going to enjoy watching them die too? Or would you rather kill them yourself? Then Mariam will finally be able to see the murderer who killed her uncle, the murderer who killed hundreds of other werewolves, is none other than you," he lashed out, venom coating his every word.

His words were like a slap to my face that left my mind reeling.

And I finally understood.

I finally understood something I should have realised a long time ago.

I was the monster.

Not these werewolves here. Not the countless number of werewolves I've killed. Not even the werewolves who killed my parents.

I was the real monster. I've taken more lives than I could count, and I had sealed the fate of three hundred more werewolves when I called the hunters here. Now they were all going to die, and it was all on me.

Regret and guilt consumed every fibre of my being, and my knees felt weak at the sudden revelation.

Noah, Cody, the kids, Mariam, Elliot, Helen, Dylan, everyone. They were all going to die, all because of me.

All because I had been too blindsided by my rage and thirst for revenge to think straight. I had taken countless of innocent lives, tore them from their loved ones and away from their families, in a desperate attempt to assuage my own anger.

I had gained nothing from killing. Nothing but blood on my hands and another innocent life to add to the list.

I deserved much worse than death.

Not the werewolves, but me.

And there was nothing I could do. I couldn't give back the lives I took, I couldn't even give my own life, because my life couldn't even be considered repayment enough for the hundreds of lost lives.

But maybe, just maybe, if I could stop this, this pointless war between hunters and werewolves, it could be the one thing I would have done right in my whole messed up as fuck life.