The Run To Quinn

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PAULA
PAULA HATED THE WESTS, always had. She was around the same age as Yamina West, the beautiful and kind Yamina West. Yamina was a representation of someone who got everything and threw it away.

She had a beautiful daughter, she had the husband who'd die for her, she had happiness. And then she tried to mess with things she didn't understand. Things she still didn't understand.

Paula rolled her eyes at Yamina's mate, Oliver. "You're desperate, Oliver, and it shows." He was desperate to leave, he'd take any deal or any option. Paula was counting on that.

Oliver started off stoic and brave. He started off so strong. Paula thought he'd last longer. However, she was glad that he didn't.

Oliver sneered at Paula, his canines couldn't show though because Paula had ripped them out. Slowly. "Let me go, Paula. What would your father think?" He was thinking of any attack he had against her. The only thing he could do, since he had no physical attack (that was hard to do when you were lotus chained up to a metal chair), was use his words. His words did nothing.

Paula laughed. "It's funny that you think I care what my father would think," deep down she did but she'd never tell Oliver that. Oliver the treasurer, the help. He was just the pack's bank account, a bank they hardly ever used.

"Your daughter... is, was, whatever— Pierce's mate. And I need her dead, just like I need you to tell me where she is!" Paula screamed. Her throat had begun to go raw from yelling, but she didn't care. She didn't care about much, lately. Her fuse had blown and she was sick of people, sick of people not taking her seriously.

Oliver recoiled back. "I don't know where she is!" He yelled. He took time to reccollect himself. He was weak and starved, and that little outburst of energy had drained him. He was so hungry he had began to shake. "But I do know she's not Pierce's mate, Quinn would've known by now."

Paula rolled her eyes. "Oliver Oliver Oliver... such a fool. I'm not talking about Quinn. Quinn is just someone I want dead for the sake of hurting your mate." Quinn wasn't the main character in Paula's story, no, this was about her sister.

Paula hated the Wests.

"Peyton is dead," Oliver whined. "We watched her die!"

Ah, there it was. There it was there it was, the name. Peyton. Peyton, Peyton, Peyton. The innocent girl who had been killed by vampires. So sad, so sad, and yet— Paula didn't believe it. "No, she's not dead, she's not dead."

Oliver cried and spit dribbled down his chin. "Peyton is dead. The vampires we stole her from came and killed her, we—"

"You're so stupid!" Paula shouted, tears pricking at her own eyes. "Pierce is still connected to Quinn, therefor he's still connected to Peyton. Peyton is alive."

Pierce was still protective of Quinn, as any man would be of their mate's younger sibling. He didn't know it, Quinn didn't know it, nobody realized it.

"Peyton is strong, she survived, I have intel that tells me she's still alive!" Paula laughed.

Oliver stopped crying and looked up at her. "Peyton might not be my blood daughter, but I still owned her like she was my own. I felt her die."

"Yes, we all did. But we can't feel them come back," Paula was trying to get him there on his own, but he was too slow. "Yamina's kid had vampire blood in her. Vampires turn into their kind when they die, you worthless idiot! Of course you felt her die, she did die!"

That's why Paula hated Yamina. Yamina didn't understand the purity of being a werewolf, and how honorable it was. She went off and loved a vampire, she didn't wait for her mate to come.