A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with how this chapter turned out, but I'm like a lot of you, and want to get back to Simon's POV soon, so I'm hoping this will suffice. To be completely honest, I don't really have much planned for each chapter at the moment except for big plot points since I didn't think I'd make it past chapter 18. Vince's chapters will be a bit random in my opinion since a lot more important things are happening in Simon's chapters anyways.
Also, would you be interested in short spinoffs of other characters as well? I have quite a few ideas for one of my favorite couples, Dwaine and Grant; as well as some fluffy moments for Cedar and his mate :)
Regardless, hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think so far, I love reading comments.
Chapter 19
Vince's POV
I had the strangest dream that night. Or rather, the creepiest. Maybe it had been my subconscious or my drunken state from last night, but Simon had been there, along with Michael and most of the council. We were seated in the council room, Simon sitting beside me, where Sarah would sit during the meetings, and was trying desperately to keep up with whatever the betas were discussing. His features were blurred, but I could tell he seemed apprehensive sitting there. The council members seemed to mumble nonsense on and on as Michael sat across the room staring at me with a menacing glare.
Some people would consider this a lucid dream, with how real it felt. But for me, this was more like a nightmare.
I tried glaring back at Michael, then tried to focus on the other council members' faces, but they all seemed blurry. The only face that I could clearly see was Michael's. Even when Simon would turn his head to glance at me, his features were still fuzzy. Maybe it was because I really didn't see him clearly yesterday through my drunken haze, or because I had never been this close to him before, but it was quite unnerving to not be able to see someone clearly. It's like the feeling of taking off prescription glasses or putting someone else's prescription glasses on.
So I looked straight ahead at the only face I could actually see, my brother's. He didn't move, didn't even seem to blink or breathe, his eyes still focused on me.
I looked around as council members still blabbered on as if a regular meeting was happening as Michael and I just had a staredown. The room seemed to dim theatrically, as only Michael from across the room was illuminated, the rest of the council faded out of the picture. I looked around to see it was just the three of us. And then suddenly, I felt a cold hand on my forearm.
It was a tentative touch, first pulling away before firmly grabbing it again. Looking to my right was Simon, his features just slightly visible, a sense of worry and fear flashed across his face. Even this close, I couldn't quite see him clearly, but I could just sense the anxiety and fear roll off him. It was a cold feeling, enshrouding us both, almost suffocating us as the foreboding look on Michael's face towered over us.
And the longer I stared at Simon, his face became clearer. I couldn't look away, it was like someone had a firm grip on my head to keep me from moving. His cheekbones were jutted out, his cheeks sunken in. Dark bags rested heavily under his eyes, tear-stains on both sides of his pale skin. His hair was as disheveled as last night, the same stained clothes he wore when I ran into him. Looking down at the frail and gentle hand on my arm had been even more harrowing. Calloused and raised scars scattered around his arms, both fresh and old. Bruises that stuck out like a sore thumb littered his arm, even up to his shirt sleeve, more donning his neck, one near his temple. Had he always been this thin?
It was like looking at one of those SPCA commercials, his eyes glazing over as if more tears were sure to spill. He didn't say anything, but just the look on his face alone spoke volumes. He was absolutely terrified. And who wouldn't with Michael across the room.
Michael unfroze, standing up from his spot across the room, and started toward us, slow and deliberate. My heart dropped, as his unforgiving gaze never left mine. It was like I was the one frozen now, unable to even move a finger as he got closer and closer. Simon was shaking, his hand retracted from my arm as he held his hands close to his chest, curling in on himself. The cold feeling from his hand still lingered, as I watched with trepidation as Michael stood over us hesitantly. The corner of his lip raised in a smirk before snatching Simon's upper arm, yanking him away a couple of tables down from where I sat. Still paralyzed, I watched helplessly as Simon flailed about, while Michael wrapped his other hand around his neck.
My chest tightened, the air coming out in short gasps. Michael's previous threat was becoming all too real. It no longer felt like just a nightmare. The sobering thought hit me, he was going to kill him. Just as I had David. And I could do nothing but simply watch. My body ached to just shoot out of my seat. To grab Michael by his throat and make him stop. To do anything to get him away from Simon.
This newfound desire to protect him was unsettling, to say the least. No, I thought. It's more than just about Simon. Michael would ruin this pack, ruin its reputation. And if that meant killing Simon, I would stop Michael at all costs.
But to no avail, I couldn't move. Michael's grip on his neck didn't lessen, Simon gasping for air at this point. He was clawing at Michael's arms, trying desperately to get out from his vice grip. With Simon pinned to the table, I watched in horror as Michael's claws broke skin leaving a bloody trail on the desk, as Simon screamed. His cries were agonizing, telling him to stop, only for it to be all in vain.
But what was worse was Simon's eyes. Full of tears, terror, staring at me as if asking me to make it stop. To help him. And when he reached out towards me with an outstretched arm, as if desperately trying to get to me, my breath hitched.
And through it all, Michael's bloodthirsty stare never looked away from me. An upturned smile as if he was mocking me.
His eyes glowed dangerously as he squeezed tighter, crushing Simon's windpipes, his body fighting it for a few seconds before slumping, his arms dropped with a thud on the desk.
Dead.
It was like my world swept out from underneath me. My heart stopped, I'm sure of it.
My chest hurt, and I wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. I couldn't breathe. My cheeks felt wet suddenly, tears I hadn't noticed, was falling steadily now, my vision blurring. What was happening to me? My head felt like it was going to burst any second, the pain was like those damn migraines tenfold.
Michael dropped his body unceremoniously to the floor, his body crumpled, limbs strewn in awkward positions, as the blood from his neck still oozed out from the small punctures from Michael's claws. He stepped over him before stalking towards me, as I still sat frozen to the chair, the fear intensifying.
"That was for David," he said lowly, stopping in front of me, before reaching for my neck.
My head slammed against the back of the chair from his forceful hold. I could feel his claws threatening to cut through the delicate skin, my arms still stuck to the armrests. Unlike Simon, I couldn't even attempt to pry his hands away as he leaned in, his nose nearly touching mine, that awful smug face the only thing I could see.
"And this," he snarled, before crushing my neck in the same manner, leaning in to whisper in my ear.
"This is for Simon."
----
I woke up screaming.
Maybe I should've been grateful that it was a dream, but it didn't stop the panic that consumed me. I could feel it. The claws, the pressure around my neck. It still felt real, even though I knew it was a dream. They weren't here. They weren't in the pack. Everything was fine, I was telling myself.
It was everything but fine.
The fact that they weren't in the pack was more terrifying. Where was Simon? Michael? Michael already planned on killing him years ago, what if this wasn't just a dream? If Simon really was dead, that would've explained why it felt so real. But I was still here, everything seemed normal.
But the fact that they were both out there, and that I didn't know where they were was unnerving to say the least.
I sat up, covered in sweat, the sheets were half thrown on the floor, the lamp was on its side. And I was alone. Sarah was nowhere in sight, her belonging and knickknacks were gone. Even the pictures of us were gone. I guess she had moved out soon after we argued yesterday. I shouldn't have been so surprised, but after that fiasco last night, I could have used some comfort, even if it was unwanted.
That was then when the pain set in. It was just as bad as the nightmare, sharp, shooting pain from my head to my back. Then the dizziness set in, the whole room was spinning, nausea rolling in. The pressure in my chest was growing, breathing became a chore.
But I fought through it, rolling off the bed with a thud, I crawled towards the bathroom. I needed the suppressants. Then, this pain would subside, I thought. The betas would see me as weak if they saw me in this state. I needed to be back to normal quickly, like this damn nightmare never existed.
But how could I forget that stupid dream, when it felt so real. The haunting look on Simon's eyes as he let out his last breath. Or that horrifying glare Michael gave.
I struggled to prop myself up with the bathroom counter, leaning on it heavily just to grab the damn pill bottle. After hearing approaching footsteps, I quickly swallowed a handful of the suppressants, not even caring how much I actually needed. Risking a glance, I flinched at the sight of my appearance. I looked like utter shit in the mirror, the sweat-soaked my entire shirt, my hair looked like I had just gotten out of the shower, and I looked like I aged ten years.
All because of some nightmare. Anger shot through me. Why was I so bothered by this? I shouldn't care what Michael does to Simon, right? What kind of alpha gets freaked out about death, about their own brother?
When I glanced again at the mirror, all I could see was Simon's lifeless body on the floor, Michael standing over him. I screamed, then punched the glass, my hand bleeding from the shards.
At some point, I could hear someone walk in, but all I could see was Michael's stupid grin in the millions of shards in front of me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't even hear what the person next to me was saying. I was panicking, and I couldn't make it stop. I needed to know that Michael was nowhere near Simon, or I'd probably lose it.
So when the person turned me to face them and I saw Lucas standing there, something in me snapped. Maybe I was so shaken up by what happened in the dream, but I didn't want anyone to touch me. Gripping the collar of his shirt, I shoved him up against the door frame.
"Where! Where is he?!"
"Wha-"
I shoved him again, my body shaking with rage. "Where is he?"
"What," he gritted out. "Vince, what are you talking about?"
I saw Xavier from the corner of my eye approaching us, trying to get me to loosen my grip but I shoved him away. "Hey, easy, Vince."
I snarled in Lucas's face, getting in his face. "You! You were supposed to be watching him!"
"Who are you talking about?" Xavier demanded, shoving at me till I loosened my grip on Lucas.
"Simon," I said lowly. The two of them seemed to flinch at his name, which made me angrier. "What happened?"
Lucas gulped before interrupting, "What happened here, Vince?"
"Answer the question," I gritted my teeth.
Xavier cursed before answering, "We lost him."
"What?"
"We lost track of him," he admitted. "He took off after our run-in yesterday. The both of us looked for him for hours, Vince."
"This wouldn't have happened if you had stayed at the bar," Xavier continued. "You know, like I told you too."
I let out an angry huff, the small cuts on my hand starting to sting. "Does anyone have eyes on Michael?"
"No," he replied. Xavier gave me a pointed look. "Does this have anything to do with your screaming and outburst with the mirror?"
"He's going to kill him," I said.
"He said that years ago, Vince," Lucas frowned.
I growled lowly. "I saw it. He's going to kill him. He killed him in front of me."
Xavier pursed his lips before asking, "A vision? You don't get those, Vince. Your suppressants. You sure it wasn't just a nightmare?"
"It felt-" I hesitated. "Felt so real."
"That's not a vision," Lucas interrupted. "Visions are of things happening currently. They're not of the future. It's probably just a nightmare."
"No," I snarled, reaching for his collar again, but Xavier held me back. "I could feel it. It hurt. Why would it hurt this much, even now?"
Xavier grabbed hold of my arm, and as much as I wanted to yank it away, he held it firmly. "I'm not sure, cause I've never experienced it, but it probably has something to do with the bond. As much as you hate to admit it, I think it's still there. Maybe it's trying to tell you something."
"No," I dismissed it. "Just, someone get eyes on Michael, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"I don't think he wants Simon dead, Vince." Xavier frowned. "Surely, he would've already killed Simon by now if that was the case. I don't think that this nightmare of yours has anything to do with that. "
"He's going to kill him," I insisted. "And you better hope you find him before Michael does. Because if you don't, Michael won't be the one you two have to worry about."