Call of the Wild

6 *~* violence is always the answer

A/N: I had so much trouble with this damn chapter...

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It wasn't that Wyatt wanted to follow Zed around. He didn't. If there was anyone he hated, loathed, it was that fucking zombie. No, he didn't want to.

He needed to.

And it wasn't stalking. It wasn't.

That's what he told himself even as he crouched in a dark alley across the street and two houses over from Zed's apartment. Was he lying to himself? No. He really did hate Zed. Who was talking about stalking?

It was past midnight. If he was human, he would see nothing, as no streetlights had been set up in Zombietown. He'd left Addison at the cave with a small lie about meeting up with Willa and the others, told her she could wander the cave to her delight, and had instead made his way towards Zombietown, towards Zed. He felt guilty and had half a mind to run back to the Den and make sure Addison was okay or just to spend as much time as he could with her, but the compulsion to hunt down Zed overshadowed his guilt.

Before, he had simply, conveniently, run into Zed during strolls through Seabrook and took notice of random things, because Addison had been revealed to be his soulmate, so he should really know all he could about the person she was seeing. But now, now he wanted to hunt Zed. He wanted to do exactly what Willa had suggested the other night and kill him. Wyatt wanted to torture him, inflict as much pain as he could and then eviscerate him and watch the life leave his eyes.

He wanted it so much it made him feel ill, nauseous to the point he'd had to crouch instead of lean against the brick building to his left.

Wyatt knew the sickening, violent thoughts were because of Addison's transformation. He knew it, and still, he came here and watched, waited, until the opportunity presented itself for him to do what he had to. What he must do.

Wyatt had never murdered anyone. Never killed anyone in self-defense or to protect those he loved. The forest, the mountains, he was the apex predator. A bear, a wolf pack, moose, what-have-you, were nothing at all compared to a pack of werewolves. They'd had no enemies, no contact with the other packs until recently, nothing that could threaten them besides the moonstone sickness.

Would he be able to do it? When it came down to it? If he had Zed in his claws, ready to deliver the killing blow?

He knew the answer, and it made him shudder in repulsion.

Add to the fact Addison would despise him.

But she was his mate so what right did Zed have to even continue living? Get him out of the picture forever and Addison would eventually come to like him, maybe love him. Right?

Wyatt groaned, ran his hands through his hair, and clenched them into fists. His nails dug deep in his scalp, but the pain helped him focus better. He was going insane. He was. Those looks he got from Willa and Wynter when they didn't think he'd notice, or the confused stares from Addison. He saw them. He knew what they thought: he was losing it, he was changing, he was becoming...something else.

Well, so what? So what if he was crazy? If he had no idea what to do? If he couldn't decide between killing Zed or himself? And so what if he scared himself shitless? All of them would have to deal with it. What he was becoming was there to stay.

So focused was Wyatt on his inner turmoil that he didn't hear or smell the two drunken bastards that stumbled out of the side door of the bar that made up the other side of the alley. They were loud and sloppy and irritating as hell. And smelled like zombies.