22: Final Countdown

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Final Countdown

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Final Countdown

"The splendid thing about falling apart silently... is that you can start over as many times as you like."

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Gerard's eyes darted between everyone's shared expressions of disbelief and finally landed on Scott, who was watching him with a small victorious smirk. He lowered his bitten arm only then, twisting it around so he could inspect the dreadful sight—the bloody wound was completely oozing black, the substance seeping over his entire forearm and dripping onto the concrete at his feet like a foreboding metaphor of doom.

"What..." He whispered, his mind racing, trying to make sense of it all.

This wasn't in his plan; this wasn't what was supposed to happen. Panic gripped him, and a lump formed in the back of his throat as if something was clawing its way up from his belly. He coughed to dislodge whatever it was, but instead of relief, it brought forth more black blood, staining his pale lips.

Through his clenched teeth, also stained black, he looked at Scott. "What is this? What did you do?"

Scott just looked at him in slight pity before turning his attention to Derek, determination etched on his features. "Everyone kept telling me Gerard always has a plan. Well, I had one too."

Gerard yanked his silver pillbox from his pocket, the moonlight through the broken windows glinting off the surface as he flipped it open. "No... no..." His mumbles echoed through the warehouse as he poured several capsules into the palm of his hand, some spilling to the floor around him and landing in the blood pooling at his feet.

Pristine white against black.

Scott calmly offered an identical pill case to Gerard. "You dropped this."

Black blood was now running from his nose, and Gerard raised his handful of capsules and crushed them in his hand. Between his fingers, the capsules burst into a puff of familiar gray ash.

"Mountain ash!" Gerard's voice erupted in a mixture of rage and desperation, but it was too late. The deed had been done and now he was stuck facing the consequences of his own actions.

And all the werewolves he'd slain over the years were probably rejoicing in their graves as they watched him rot from the inside out.

Scott took a step back as the old man crumpled to his knees, collapsing onto the glass shard Luna had shattered earlier and lurching in agony. He clutched at his stomach, the source of his cancer and of his pain as black blood began to pour faster from his nose, from his tear ducts, ears, and even around his fingernails. The thick liquid ran down his body and spilled to the floor around him.

The nauseating sight of him tumbling into his own putrid pool of bodily fluids left Luna recoiling in disgust. And once again, she could only think that it was the power of karma coming for the man at last, forcing him to his knees with the fate he deserved.

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