Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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Something heavy felt like it was holding him down, yet he felt no other weight but his own as he struggled to open his eyes; an instant migraine began forming as numerous eventful and painful memories assaulted him as he regained consciousness. Setting them all aside for the moment, Midnight mainly focused on opening his eyes before trying to decipher anything. He let out a small groan of frustration, the annoying beeping of a medical machine in the background becoming more prominent with each passing minute until he finally managed to crack one eye open, eternally grateful that someone had been mindful enough to keep the lights off.
At first, his vision was blurred, and a wave of nausea hit him forcing him to let out another discomforted groan as he closed them again, as his temples pounded with pain, but the main thing he noticed was the fact that he was alive instead of dead. Being on the receiving end of a triple-barrel werewolf gun powerful enough to take down an Elder forced him to realize that no matter how much he fought back, Midnight would end up meeting the same fate his mother did. One single shot should have killed him and it would have if Midnight was a normal human. He'd been propelled into the compliance that his death would arrive much sooner than he'd initially thought, which made him wonder what it would be like to die and how much he would suffer.
The fear, shock, anger, sadness, regret, and acceptance that swarmed inside him like a hurricane was maddening to reconsider after coming to terms with his demise, yet here he was, still among the living.
Is this how his mother felt right before her husband killed her?
All these emotions and memories attack you as you have no other option but to come to terms as the sand in the hourglass runs out, signifying that you've literally run out of time. Not just for yourself but for the ones you love as well, the people you'd be leaving behind and how they would react. The goth knew his family would be devastated at losing another member, in the end, he knew they would recover in their own way because death is a constant possibility in their lives but there was one particular person he knew would never recover if Midnight were to die.
Evan.
Evan, who cared too much and was too empathetic for his own good, genuinely loved Midnight, even when the ex-hunter showed parts of himself that were less than ideal. He stayed and continued loving Midnight, adapting to less-than-ideal situations, eager to learn more about the world, and it pained the goth every time he saw the small innocent, naive light in those beautiful sea-green eyes diminish a bit with each tragedy that struck them. He had a panic attack whenever they even spoke of the idea of Midnight dying and had almost gone rogue a few times because of it. The goth knew for a fact that if he died, Evan would never recover, and he'd turn into a rogue, ripping himself apart in anguish.
