Lone Wolf (The Wulf Pack Book 1)

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Chapter Fifty

Fury was sitting against one of the grimy walls of the cell. He was placed in the remote section of the “prison”. The cries from the other section echoed but by the time they reached here, they were nothing more then whispers carried on the wind.

He didn’t look up when his brothers approached, stopping outside of the stone cell, looking through the barred window in the steel door.

Rage watched him silently. His face hard as he contemplated what he was going to do. Fury had hurt Willow, snapped and threatened Rage, threatened to mark a claimed she-wolf.

He turned to Hunter and his twins eyes widened when he asked, “do you still have my old tools?” he gulped, nodding his head before dropping it solemnly.

The hall grew silent as Hunter left to retrieve the old leather bag containing his first set of tools, the one their Uncle gave him when he trained him.

When Hunter returned a few minutes later, he handed him the bag and two long chains with shackles at one end. His hand shook slightly as he pulled the skeleton key from his pocket and unlocked the cell door.

Fury stood, growling at them. He wasn’t restricted within the cell, no binding keeping him from lunging at them.

Hunter caught him, pushing him against the closest wall. Fury struggled against the tight grip on his shoulders, growling at his Alpha but Hunter kept an emotionless mask. He wasn’t going to let his emotions get into this, he was going to be a good Alpha and follow tradition. It wasn’t his place to do anything about Fury, he couldn’t step in and stop what their laws dictated. Even as his brother, there was nothing he could do.

At the sound of chains dragging against stone, Fury stopped struggling, cold eyes moving to watch Rage connect the chains to the ceiling. His eyes widdened as they looped through the built-in loops and securing to the looks on opposite walls. The sound of the locks snapping into place had Fury’s eyes widdening.

His heart beat quickened as Rage approach him. With one brother gripping an arm he was forced to the center of the room, securely fastened to the ceiling by the cuffs around his wrists.

There was silence for a moment as the brothers stood in the awkward situation. Who would have thought this would ever happen?

After a few long moments, Hunter forced himself to leave the cell, guilt filled him and he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. Every fiber of his being wanting him to stay, to stop this but he couldn’t.

Rage stared at his bag, where he placed it on the ground, the leather warn and stained from the years of use, of the blood that had been spilled onto it.

There was a part of him that sparked at the idea of spilling more blood, the part of him that enjoyed killing. That side was never satisfied, no mater the body count. Deep down a part of him didn’t want to harm his brother, the same part of him that he felt when he held Willow, his heart... maybe.

He pushed his thoughts aside, stalking over to his bag. He dug through the contents, ignoring the memories they brought.

His fingers laced around the sheathed blade, his first. He doubted it was as sharp as his ones back at camp, but it would do.

Approaching his seething brother, he met his eyes. He forced all of his emotions down as they swarmed him, he cared about his brother, loved him, he was his brother for goddess sakes.

Gripping the wooden handle, he lifted the blade, pausing when he noticed the smirk spread on Fury’s face.

“You are only proving my point by doing this, by killing me, brother. You are a sadistic monster that doesn’t deserve Willow,”

“You’re right,” he agreed whole heartedly, “but she chose me, and I would never harm her,”

He held his brother’s eyes as he watched for a reaction. Besides the slight surprise in his eyes, his face didn’t change.

“Does she know what you are doing?” Rage frowned at the question. Had no one told him? No, they wouldn’t have.

“She is currently in a medical induced coma while she heals,” Fury’s face dropped, eyes widening slightly as the realization seemed to dawn on him.

“I don’t hurt he that bad,” a frown fromed between his eyes, not understanding, “I only scratched her,” he added with a whisper.

“She had to have SURGERY!” Rage growled. Was his brother that crazed that he didn’t know the difference between scratching and clawing.

Anger surged through him and he brought the blade down, slicing Fury front cheekbone to jaw.

“She will forever carry the scars on her chest!” Rage sliced along the previous cut. Fury let out a yelp as the tip of the knife slipped around the edge of his jaw.

“I didn’t...” he was cut off as the knife sliced through fresh skin, blood flushed his eye.

“She can’t even be awake,” Rage sliced the air, the tip in the knife grazing cotton and flesh in a shallow mark across the chest. “Painkillers won’t work!” He sliced again, this time blood gushed as from the new chest wound.

“I’m sorr...” Rage clenched his teeth, his fist lashing out, connecting with Fury’s nose, head flying back from the impact.

“Don’t bother,” Rage circled behind him, eyeing him in anger, body hot as his blood boiled, “I’m not angry with you for wanting her,” he moved closer, cutting down the center of the shirt to bare the fresh skin of his back.

“I’m not even angry with you for being pissed at me,” he left Fury and return to his bag. He set the knife on the ground before pulling the leather coil from his bag.

“I fucked up, bad,” gripping the braided leather, he moved behind Fury, “I’m angry that you hurt her,” shaking the coil out, the whip made a thump on the ground. “You should never have touched her, whether she was claimed or not,”

Fury stayed silent. He didn’t realize... he didn’t mean to...

There was no excuse for what he did.

A soft whistle of wind came before the whip hit. Fury groaned through clenched teeth as the multiple ends snapped against his back, he could almost feel the knots on each of the five thin layers at the end of the compact whip.

“I sent her here to be safe,” Rage growled, swinging the whip, the poppers snapping at the skin, causing angry welts, “you knew that,” again the whip made content, this time drawing blood, “of everyone YOU knew that!” Rage growled vishously, the force of the stroke that followed cause Fury to cry out.

Rage let his anger out on Fury, after every lash the image of Willow laying in the hospital bed flashed in his mind fueling the next swing. Each swipe taking off layers off skin.

He had lost count of the lashes by the time Fury’s body sagged, his cries no more than moans. The full damage was hard to see due to all of the blood.

Rage tossed the whip twords his bag before rounding to face his brother. Hie eyes were closed, his breathing labored, but he was alive. Pulling the key from his pocket, he released his brother, letting him drop to the floor.

Fury groaned in pain but didn’t move as he layed on his side on the slimy stone.

“You will forever carry those scars, as she must forever carry the ones you gave her,” Rage life his lip, looking at the male laying on the ground. Eyes shot open and looked up at him with shock.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Rage shrugged at the barely autable question.

“Even though you hurt her, she want going to loose her life,” he shrugged again, looking away from Fury, “maybe if the damage had been worse or the situation was different or you weren’t my brother...” Rage took a deep breath, “I didn’t want to kill you, Fury, you are my brother.”

Turning on his heals, he exited the cell, leaving the door open, and a shocked Fury watching him from the ground.

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