Fatal Justice

† Chapter Thirty-Six †

And there is always the darkest night. 

They ran all night. 

When the sun left the sky in darkness, they thrived beneath the moon with high spirits and a desire to do the right thing. Their paws thundered across the land with an awakening that only the dawn would know. Silky pale moonlight illuminated their sparkling eyes, and lulling tongues, in the fashion any beast would appear. 

They were the creatures of the night. 

They brought danger, they lurked in the shadows, and they slayed with ease. But, they were also human. They had been lost, they had wanted a home, and they wouldn't hurt anyone undeserving of it. There was a fine line between that of justice and revenge, like sugar that could melt away with the single sign of a storm. 

There was always a calm before the first crack of thunder, that's how storms managed to uproot so many things, by the pure unpredictability of when damage can be caused. Often times, the storm made the most powerful landfall when the shore was vulnerable. No barriers, no rock, just sifting sand that can be swept away. 

A single breath could put out the flame that had grown within his chest. He wouldn't admit it to himself but with every mile they drew closer to Conquistador, the more his heart trembled within his chest. With every stride, he felt a pause of hesitance. 

He didn't have to do this. 

He could turn back now, lead his brothers home, and forget everything. But he would never find his peace because he would know that he allowed pain and suffering to plague the werewolf community. He would know then, that he was a true coward, and he had spent his entire life fighting that. 

All he had done was fight. 

Never once had he been able to rest. 

But he knew what kind of monster Braxton was. What kind of monster Russell would have turned out to be beneath the guidance of Braxton. And monsters should never have such power in a vulnerable community. However, to defeat a monster, one must become one, and he wasn't a monster. 

He never could be. 

No matter how much Braxton had tried to break him and rebuild him into the perfect killer, he never was. 

By the time dawn broke, they arrived at the north border of Conquistador. 

He had halted his brothers, crouching low beneath some bushes so that he could scout the patrol wolves. It had always been impossible to cross the pack territory, he had spent half his life plotting to escape and had failed numerous times, but now he was bringing the force of a storm onto a tiny shore. 

When he counted only three patrolling wolves, he would have smiled to himself. Perhaps Braxton was finally losing his control in the face of arrogance. Things that would have usually been impossible were made possible by poor decisions because the largest pack in North America certainly wouldn't expect an attack in broad daylight. 

Especially not from a pack of rogues led by the bastard son of their former alpha. 

'Ready?' He spoke to his brothers. 

'Yes, Alpha,' they responded in unison. He glanced at them, every one crouched beside him with muscles coiling to obey his command, and his heart swelled once more. Their loyalty would always leave him breathless, it was so unheard of, and yet he had found it. 

Who knew rogues could become something so great? 

General gave him the smallest of nods, and then he broke from their cover with renewed energy that thrummed through his veins like lightning. His brothers instantly fell in behind him, General and Amigo running shoulder to shoulder with him. 

He had one chance at this. 

The three patrol wolves didn't even know what hit them, and they had no chance to fight back. He leaped onto the back of the first and instantly twisted its neck. The grotesque snapping of vertebrae and bone made his heart beat harder, fiercer. He had to be sure he could kill his father, his brothers had followed him for that purpose, and he couldn't let them down. 

He couldn't fail. 

Those thoughts drove him harder. His paws pounded against the earth, a steady ache revebrating up his limbs, but the pain kept him rooted in the present. He knew these woods like the back of his hand and the closer they drew to the pack house--his own living hell for nineteen years--those haunting memories from the past tried to drown him. 

Shaking his head, he focused. He needed to clear his head, but it seemed impossible when all he had ever done was block out what resided in his mind. He hadn't faced his demons, he hadn't healed at all, and now he was diving head first into the past, as if he would have the strength to defeat it. Maybe he didn't. 

Maybe it wasn't his destiny. 

It was too late, his ears heard the howl that alerted the Conquistador pack that they were under attack, and now there was no turning back. Paws flurried through the forest ahead and then he saw bodies appearing, Conquistador wolves rising up to meet their surprise attack. 

He didn't think then, he just dove for the kill. A red haze filled the outer edges of his vision as his wolf surged forward to help him defeat their common enemy. General and Amigo leaped at his sides, almost mirroring him stride for stride as they plowed through Conquistador wolves. Fox was close on his tail, he had checked over his shoulder a few times to make sure. 

Despite the urge to kill, he still had an overwhelming urgency to protect his brothers. Especially those who had taught him what it meant to be family over the past decade. He sidestepped a rogue paw aiming for his face, and instantly swung his own claws around to severely injure the Conquistador wolf. 

When the first wave of wolves broke, he continued to lead the way to the pack house. He knew the way like a damn shadow that haunted him. Soon, the house that had been his prison came into view, and he saw them. 

Braxton and Russell. 

Russell instantly leaped from the porch and sprinted ahead but he knew that his brother was too much of a coward to take the heat of battle. In all of the years they fought and killed under Braxton's command, Russell always managed to get out with as few as injuries as possible because he hid behind the other wolves. 

However, his eyes were zeroed in on Braxton. 

The last time he had seen his father, Braxton had been laying unconscious from his wounds in the fight with Alpha Leonardo of Zayev Pack. It was right before he met his mate, and Sutton betrayed him. Right before he fought on these very same grounds and lost to Russell. 

That was many years ago and all the pain was still present. All those memories crowded in his mind like a hurricane ready to leave everlasting damage. But, above it all, he found anger in his heart. It burned so bad, he felt like a fire had been set in his soul, and he focused that anger on Braxton. 

'That's him,' He snarled to his brothers, eyes never leaving Braxton, and his anger was consuming the last of his humanity, 'He's mine to kill.' 

In a breath, he let his instincts take over and all control was lost. 

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Oh god, I'm not prepared for these next few chapters. 

Sorry about the wait on this. I've been writing backward, for some reason that seems easier, and I can't explain it. Once I get the dots connected, you can expect a flood of updates. And possibly tears. But, I surprised myself by writing this chapter (in order, too), so I published it as soon as possible for you guys!