Fatal Justice

† Chapter Seven †

Life hurts a lot more than death. 

There was no time to die. 

Quite literally. Every second ticked by with the intention of stealing life. In a way, his very soul was seeping through the cracks that splintered through his body. He was slowly crumbling and soon he felt like he would be nothing. A nobody. Or rather, a body to throw to the rogues. He wouldn't even get to rest in his grave, his body forever broken by brutal force. 

It had been a week since they lost to the Lyon's Pack and if he thought his life had been hell before, he was wrong. He had grown jumpy, flinchy, and frightened of the shadows that swarmed around him. Everywhere he turned, there were fists being thrown in anger and people unconscious on the ground. Death, violence, and darkness poisoned the pack as they seemed to turn on each other. Though they had always been against one another, now they were fueled with the anger of Braxton as if influenced them all. A greedy Alpha who would never accept defeat. Every body was scarred, bruised, and battered.  

He was ready to drop. He had never gotten the chance to recover from the attack they had sorely lost and his body was aching with feverous pain. However, another feeling--dark and ravenous--coursed through him and it was similar to uncontrollable rage. He had so many emotions boiling beneath his skin, he felt like a caged animal ready to strike, and it was quite possibly his feral instinct trying to consume him. He snarled more than he spoke. He was becoming more wolf than man. 

He walked through the yard of the pack, fists clenching and unclenching as he itched with the desire for blood, and his attention snapped towards a couple of bodies shuffling in the dirt a few feet away. He paused only for a second, watching them scratch and draw thick lines of blood from each other, and then he snarled before storming over. 

It was a male and female. He immediately recognized Sutton through all the dirt and blood. He should have known better that she could engage in a fight that could very well kill her, he should have locked her bedroom. The damned woman was crazy. He peeled the male away from Sutton with ease. 

"The fuck are you doing?!" He snarled down at Sutton. The man she had been fighting with scurried off when he flashed his teeth in warning. 

She was heaving for air, fingers grasping the dirt as dark purple bruises formed around her throat, and he almost winced at the wheezing in her lungs. She hadn't recovered from Braxton nearly ending her life either and she was in no condition to fight. He had no idea what he would do because the weekly trials were tomorrow and Sutton wouldn't be able to fight. It would be her death sentence and Braxton would watch with glee. 

Finally, she coughed and glared, "Fighting, what the hell does it look like?" 

"Looks like you want to die to me." He shot back.