Zane | ✔︎

Chapter Thirty | Did I die?

It was a good day to die.

Oh, very auspicious day to die. 

Death is healing. Death is pretty. Death is a second chance.

Especially when you die at the hands of a Werewolf God, that's when you know, you've been bad in your life.

If you made a God cause a war, if you made a God indulge in your war, if you made a God go evil in a war, then you're just very bad.

And no one can save you.

No one would want to save you.

Who the fuck would want to save you?

They'll just watch you.

Like the Shadow Moon Pack did. 

Like the Knight Clan did. 

Like his people did.

As he found every son of a bitch, as he found every bastard, as he found every single child of sin that ever neared her or fathomed to touch her, and he delivered the promise that he made to his mate, his woman, his other half aeons ago. He found them, one by one, pack by pack, skull by skull.

The thing is, people don't understand the art of violence, the art that is embedded in being gifted with wrath. Being the son of Fury. Being the son of War. The art of being granted the power to punish. And when you pass Lilith's test, who would dare to stop you?

And the thing is, Zane passed her test before any other creature could. Before any other person could. 

You'd go against him, he'd win.

You'd go against him, you'd lose.

And he lost control, pouring hell into his borders, pouring hell while making Mother Earth and Father Sky his witnesses. Making them watch him. Making them stare at him as he destroyed numbers that couldn't be numbered.

He lost control, taking on the entire armies of men all on his own. He lost control, needing only himself to face countries, to face continents. He lost control, ready to end everything.

He lost control, with only her in his mind.

The hands he cut, the throat he bit, the hearts he grabbed and crushed, the bodies he piled until there was no flesh left. The bones he broke, the souls he snatched, the families he ended, the tongues he cut and burned. The skulls he crushed, the spines he crushed, the wills he crushed, fuck, the scene was so... horrifying. 

He forgot the word of mercy, he forgot the word of forgiveness, he forgot the word of redemption. 

Oh, no. There is no redemption for the one who hurts his girl. 

He'll burn countries like he did before. 

He'll end everything like he did before.

He'll devour everyone like he did before.

Because he can, and he did.

That's the thing about punishment. You have no say in it unless you're the Punisher or the one being punished. If you are a witness, you stay as a fucking witness. If you see him kill, you fucking see him kill. If you see him torture, you fucking see him torture. You have no say, and you can't have a say when you watch your Alpha be the Alpha you never expected him to be. 

Trauma does that to you. You watch your Alpha do evil things, yet you find nothing wrong with it. That's the worst thing to endure. Watching his atrocities and being proud of it.

Because in his evil, you find the truth.

Because in his sin, you find virtue. 

Because in his death, you find life.