The Wolves ✓

22; regret

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Tristan drove for over an hour, not sure of where his train of thought was going. He hadn't spoken to anyone all morning except Jade and wasn't quite sure where he was headed, either.

After what seemed like eternity, Tristan stopped by a familiar house and watched the front door. He stared at it, expecting to see him walk out and greet him with one of his warm smiles.

He finally got out of the car and walked into the house. He entered a bedroom with a single bed and spoiled patterned wallpaper. He continued through the corridor until he found the kitchen and instinctively, went straight for the cabinets. When he couldn't find anything, he settled on drinking some water.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the fridge opposite him. A shopping list was stuck under a banana magnet. Beside it was a school photograph of a little girl with neatly combed blonde hair and a pink butterfly clip.

Tristan left the glass on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. He stopped in front of the staircase, his heart hammering as he looked up.

He didn't know why he came to this house. He'd been avoiding it for so long and now that he was there, in his house, he had to satiate his curiosity.

Making his way upstairs, he went to the second bedroom. He opened the partially ajar door and took a deep breath before walking in.

He looked around the room. Nothing was different. The framed photographs of the 2012 summer trip and his wedding picture. He picked one up and looked at the man in the picture.

Kellan.

The pack's beta- well, before Billy had stepped up. He was exiled from the pack when he announced his engagement to Sara, a human. Kellan never really forgave Tristan for it, as far as he knew.

Kellan left the pack but their years of friendship burnt down with the decision, too.

Tristan was about to leave when he saw the bathroom door open. A horrible pungent smell drew him closer and Tristan found himself walking in.

What Tristan saw struck him with terror. He stood frozen, hand on the handle and eyes on the dead body in the tub. Kellan.

Tristan finally looked away from him and then at the little tinted bottle next to the tub and the lid on the bathroom floor.

Kellan's lifeless body sat in the tub, his eyes closed and body decomposing. Tristan covered his face with the palm of his hand and tried to think straight as he began to hyperventilate.

When the smell was too much to take, he left the bathroom and slammed the bedroom door behind him as he walked downstairs.

He grabbed a vase from the table and threw it at the opposite wall, letting it smash into pieces.

 "Fuck!" he shouted and grabbed a framed art piece from the wall and sent it flying into one of the other rooms.

He lost sense of what he was doing. Just as he turned to leave, he pulled his arm back and swung it at the door. Pain shot up his arm as he removed himself from the house, leaving a hole in the door. Blood tricked down his fingers and on to the ground.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and stayed still. He felt grief and he felt regret. He wasn't sure which outweighed the other. He let himself slide down on to the grass, unable to process what he had just seen.

This wasn't how his best friend was supposed to die. Not alone, not in a bathtub.

Not without goodbye.

Looking back up at the sky twenty minutes later, he regained the strength to get up and walk to the garage.

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After burying his friend, he stood by the grave he made for him for a while. He pulled out the picture he'd taken from the upstairs bedroom of Kellan and his family on Christmas. Piling the dirt around the frame, he left it to stand and took a step back. Behind the frame in scribbled writing said, 

'HERE LIES, KELLAN ANDERSON. FRIEND, HUSBAND AND FATHER.'

Tristan forced himself to get into his car and drove away. His clothes and hands were now covered in dirt, leaving debris on the steering wheel and seat.

After minutes of driving over the speed limit, Tristan parked the car in front of Cordelia's cabins and got out. He slowly approached the main house to see that the doors had blown off their hinges. Searching the house, finally he was able to come across the basement.

He found his way into one of the rooms where bodies lay around on the floor. He frowned, realising that they were all witches. Unlit candles lay on the carpet and among them, he found Cordelia's body.

He walked over to her and checked her pulse, surprised that she didn't have one.

Freya, he thought to himself.

He stood up and began to look in the other rooms. When he couldn't find her, he left the coven and drove away as quick as he could. A whole coven of witches had been massacred, he thought. It was no small feat to accomplish.

And Freya was missing.

Someone had done this and he needed to know who and more importantly, what had happened to his mate.

Back at the pack house, Jade lit a cigarette and looked up to see two figures approaching the property.

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