Hybrid

TEN

⫷ JAMES ⫸

Water splashing on pavement echo down the dark underground hiding space. The light of a candle flickers a dim glow in the confined area. If we were outside, I wouldn't need it. Seeing as we were underground, without any natural light from the sky, no being would be able to see down here. Something about Biology.

Before me is a werewolf in human form. His ankles and wrists are shackled by silver, causing rashes from burns to imprint on his skin. Blood and bruises colour him from head to toe, some hidden by the ratty sweater and pants he wears. Despite his state, the rogue remains stoic. A thin line presses on his lips, and his eyes, which are inspecting me closely, do not waver in fear of pain.

Gritting my teeth, I take a daring step forward. The sheath of the silver dagger feels cold in my hand, almost as cold as the daunting air that presses in on me. The sound of my sudden movement creates a disturbance in the air, causing everyone nearby to unconsciously copy.

"We can be here all night," I growl. The anger boils deep inside of me, almost enough to become explosive, if the rogue plays his cards wrong. Goddess, do I have dear ol' dad to thank for that impulse. "I've got plenty of time." The tips of my fingers on my free hand trace along the blunt end of the knife. Instantly, my skin sizzles from the silver touch, leaving a red streak in its wake.

The rogue's eyes twinkle and, although it's faint, there is a smirk on his lips. My anger stirs. Parting his lips, I think he's about to speak until I notice he spits out a clot of blood nearly splattering on my shoe.

Settling back against the brick walls, the rogue regards my lips curling and my fists clenching. "Do what you want to me, Alpha. I'm not saying shit."

The relentless rage, controlled by the wolf spirit, becomes restless. The primal urge inside of me wills me to lodge the dagger into his heart and end him for his existing threat. Swallowing, I raise my chin higher, never tearing my gaze away from him. "Fine by me," I grit through clenched teeth.

The distance between the rogue and me is quickly shortened. Ignoring the warning stare that my Beta burns into the back of my head, I bring the tip of the knife against the rogue's jaw. Pressing forward, I watch as a sputtering bead of blood trickles down onto his already stained shirt. The deeper I press, the more scarlet blood pools out.

The wolf inside of me yaps in need. Need for blood. Need for avenging. Need for letting loose the monster brewing inside of me. My knuckles are still a little scratched up from my 'work out' the other day, but I want more.

I relent, despite the agonizing pain in my gut that wishes for me to put the rogue through arduous torture. The type of torture I saw my father inflict on other people, even me, when he was angry. Oh, how that man has a short temper.

The anger sparks, like the sudden jolt of fire from the candle. Feeling my sight grow darker by the second, I draw the knife back. In a flash quicker than the naked eye can detect, I ram the tip of the knife into his shoulder, mere inches from his heart.

The silver works its magic instantly. The rogue's head rolls to the side as he exhales an ear wrenching howl. My other hand holds him in place, feeling his skin twitch and tremble from the agony. Slowly, I twist the knife inside of him.

I can feel myself losing control of my wolf. It's eating away at my heart, my mind, my soul. Every part of me gives in to the relentless torture I'm ensuing on the rogue.

In the teary eyes of the rogue in front of me, I see a little boy that just wanted some fucking cake on his birthday. Instead, he got a week in the box. The fucking box that haunts me to this day.