She was overwhelmed with happiness. Everything that kept her up at night wringing in her sheets with worry had evaporated, leaving her sated with serenity. Finally, everything was going to be alri...
Wrath ripped the page out of the book, halting the happily ever after.
And then another.
And suddenly, the entire novel was gone and replaced with shreds of aged paper.
He couldn’t continue reading the sappy sack of shit. How could he when his own story was one parents would tell their kids at night to condition them to behave?
No. If his expired soul was doomed to carry on lonely and unwanted until the end of time then he wouldn’t remind himself about what he was missing out on.
Damn these characters and their joy.
A growl revved deep in his chest. The sound was lucky. It could escape his cursed body and dissolve into the world.
The character in that now tarnished novel were lucky.
The breathing, bleeding creatures out in the real world were lucky!
They could laugh, belong... die.
But him? His loved ones and his purpose for existing were now skeletonized. Meanwhile, his young body remained ripe for more years to see. Years he had no interest in seeing.
There was no joy for him. The only thing that could remotely make him happy was death. What sane men feared was what his despicable self craved like an alcoholic.
He was twisted.
Now angered by the direction of his thoughts, Wrath pushed himself off the floor and past the single door on the cabin that he detached days before but never cared to fix.
There was a nearby lake he visited every few days. The cool water made him feel something that momentarily muted the numbness inside him.
He strolled out into the open. The thuds of his footsteps caused a disturbance, yet no birds chirped and no squirrels scurried. He was forever alone. Even nature had discarded him.
Now isn’t this a great ending? The cold-blooded murderer serves an endless sentence in crippling loneliness. That’s some Disney shit right there. Definitely the best finale that any novel could offer.
With that invasive thought, he picked up his pace.
Wrath’s right foot halted so harshly that it drilled into the chips of wood and dirt that covered the landscape. He knew that alluring voice. The only difference is that the last time he heard it, it was heavy with fury and clogged by the blood that was rising up Luna’s throat.
How could he forget that voice? Its last breath became law. It was what spoke his nightmare into existence.
His head crooked in Luna’s direction and his face contorted with disbelief.
Luna didn’t move when the lycan growled so furiously that the previously unbothered birds shot into the sky; chirping a warning to their friends of the predator in the area.
Wrath launched himself at her. The ground trembled when he descended back down— perhaps from his weight or maybe because the glint in his eyes paired with the sight of his canines scared it as much as it did the birds.
Luna studied him, half expecting him to reach out and strike.
He did no such thing. Only clenched his fists so tightly that the veins in his arms called out to her for help. With a heaving, wide, powerful chest, he inhaled and uttered the following words:
The goddess only stared blankly. “Raiden,” she started.
Wrath stared at her dark brown eyes with desperation leading the hoard of his emotions. His sadness, his surprise, his... wrath, could wait until later. The only thing he currently needed was for his soul to escape his body. Hadn’t his death been stalled for long enough?
The woman with the bright, radiant light surrounding her could grant him this release with a swipe of her hand. He knew it. And if he had to beg her for it then he would. He had lost everything over the years. This included his pride. He was nothing.
“I’ve served my punishment!” he tried to reason.
Luna took a step closer. “I know. I forgive you.”
And with those two short phrases, Wrath spun and charged away from her. He urged his wolf forward and the beast complied, helping him increase his speed.
He was free. Free of the guilt, desperation, and the all-consuming fury that held him hostage for so painfully long.
He made a sharp turn, never alleviating his speed. The nearest cliff was close. Death was close. The end to the encyclopedia-sized novel of his life was close.
In his rush, he barely managed to register a whimper that rung out, sounding very much like a wounded puppy. It was paired with something brushing his chest. The touch was so swift and light that he almost shrugged it off as being wind.
He kept running, choosing to ignore the nuisance. Nothing would get between him and his end.
Look back, Raiden.
And there goes that voice again. He should have ignored it. He knew that. Because after all, the only thing the woman’s voice offered was bad news.
But he didn’t. He stopped and turned around. And in doing so, he went from finishing the series of his life to starting a new book to add to the long collection.
Dark black waves were sprawled across the face of a female who laid on the ground. Hair so dark that it matched the ink that would be used to write this new chapter.
And her body...
Dirty, scratched, distressed. Her limbs were disarrayed, matching his multiple thoughts and feelings.
She was tiny compared to him. Her stirring form in no physical way stood between him and that two-hundred feet drop that would liberate him. But emotionally? Emotionally, the now moaning woman was a wall.
And so he chose her over the cliff. His mate over his freedom.
In seconds, the end of this novel went from:
Wrath died upon jumping off the cliff.
To be continued...