A Touch of Heaven

Chapter 16

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8 Letters- Why Don't We

𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖙

The cries of pain continued on even after I had walked away.

Wiping my hands on a towel that a pack mate handed to me, I glanced back over to the cell where the two rogues were now on the verge of passing out.

A flicker of guilt passed through me at the sight of their bloodied bodies, but I pushed it away.

Normally, I wasn't this rough when it came to rogues passing through my territory, at least, not to ones who didn't deserve it.

But these rogues were different. Their scent mingled with his. They were a part of his makeshift rogue pack, and for anyone associated with him, I wouldn't show mercy.

The rogues has refused to give up any information, which made them completely useless to me, and had merely become my punching bags to release my frustration.

Handing the now-bloodied towel over to another pack member, I made my way over to the utility sink protruding from the wall on the other use of the room.

"Bring me a new set of clothes," I shouted to no one in particular.

"Yes, Alpha," a wolf answered back, then took off.

Stripping out of my stained clothing, I used another towel to scrub off the excess amounts of blood coating me.

I couldn't let Heaven see me like this. I never wanted her to see the darker, violent side of me. She's too good, too innocent in all of this to ever see how animalistic I can truly be.

And this is why she's too good for you, my thoughts whispered.

I shook my head, and scrubbed harsher at my skin, determined to get every last drop of their blood off of me.

I finished cleaning myself just as the wolf came back with a fresh stack of clothes.

He set down the stack, and took off as soon as I dismissed him with a slight nod of my head.

Now, to get back to my mate.

✧ ✧ ✧

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓

"So," I spoke from my position on the couch, where my feet dangled over the armrest, and my head was resting on the seat cushions, "That's the summed up version of my horribly miserable life."

"Damn," Tara responded, sounding dumbfounded by my story.

But it was hard to take her seriously when she was sitting upside down on the couch, her feet up in the air and her head dangling off of the edge.

"Also," Tara said after a moment of silence (which was rare for her), "Your friends sound like real asshats."

"You got that right," I snorted, reaching my spoon back into the gallon of ice cream that laid on my stomach.

"And don't even get me started on your mom," she continued, digging into the ice cream with her own spoon, "What kind of mom leaves her child alone to fend for herself for months on end?"