His Little Mischief

35

t h i r t y - f i v e| a l e x a n d r i a
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My wolf lunges at him, clawing at his chest, and leaving sickening scars that will forever remind him of his stupidity. The gash on his chest bleeds, staining his tan skin with blood.

Satisfaction enters my wolf when she sees his reaction. And I knew I'd never understand that mutual understanding between them.

There was no retaliation or even sign of displeasure, but Silas only flinches and coughs out blood.

Instead, he laughs.

His lips were lifted into a wide smile and his laughter fills the room.

His eyes, however, told a different story. It was pure emptiness. His laughter wasn't like melodies but satanic. He laughed like it was his last, but it was full of disbelief and false satisfaction.

Denial.

It irritated me but my wolf was more pleased than ever. And she doesn't make another move because she knew that emptiness was his worse punishment.

Wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, he takes slow steps back. And I wanted so bad to attack him, but my wolf stayed still.

"Kill her," he commands his minions, looking at me with a smirk before retreating like a coward.

"I've done my job," he tells me, his expression lively, yet empty at the same time. My wolf keeps her paws locked to the floor, staring back at the pitiful man in front of us. And as if he understood her, he speaks, "To create turmoil."

My wolf keeps her red orbs trained on his back, his shoulders defeated as his figure disappears from another doorway.

"You stupid wolf," I try telling her.

As expected, there was no response but a threatening low growl.

You know what's funny?

Silas destroyed himself before we even had the chance to.

He never wanted to win in the first place.

The man wanted to feel pain, but he all he felt was emptiness, void of emotions. Because that's all what beasts crave: the ability to feel.

When a person void of emotions or thoughts and no longer have a goal to meet, they lose their life's purpose—they have no more reason to live. And to them, it's better to lose your life than to live it.

And sadly, cowards like Silas are better dead than living.

A wolf's growl disrupts me from my thanking and I immediately divert my attention to the small group of wolves surrounding me.

The rogue didn't get another opportunity to let out a second growl before my wolf jumps for his neck and tears his flesh without an ounce of remorse.

The next wolf was even more stupid. She leaps towards me, where my wolf could easily claw her belly and rip her stomach apart. And so she did.

Another tries to attack me from behind while another also lunges and aims for my side. A kick and hungry bite to the neck was all it took to finish their lives.