I'll Protect You

Epilogue

Oliver's sixty. His hair isn't brown anymore, but a soft caramel. His eyes hold sorrow and speak of many trying journeys. He isn't innocent anymore. Henry is sitting next to him at the table, and together they look out at the empty chairs.

Richard had been caught a couple of years ago and would have spent the rest of his life in prison if he had not ended it soon after getting arrested.He would have rather died than give up the positions of his pack mates. Jack had been recognised on the street and shot on sight, as he would always dye his hair the same shade of green. The officers didn't even notice the rest of them around the corner, they were only aware the fact that they had killed one of the most hated criminals. David had been shot in a showdown after Oliver's second victim when he was only 45, he was the last member of the pack to leave, and had stayed with them until the end.

Oliver had killed his first victim accidentally, running over them in some backstreets. He had cut open their neck afterward and then continued on. His second victim was killed by him and his knife alone, with his pack watching carefully. They had thought that Oliver was committing his first kill there. They didn't know about the person he had run over.

The pack had crowned him as Wolf that day, Oliver having finally grown into a mature pack member, leaving his old nickname of 'pup' behind. Sometimes they would kill together, but they mainly kept a low profile, living on the run and all that.

But now it was over. The pack was split up, had been for a while now, and the Peterson brothers had foolishly held onto hope that they could survive without them, but they were wrong. They started as a pack, their escape happened as a pack, all their lives had been with the other members, but now they were gone. It wasn't hard to figure out what they had to do next.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked and Oliver looked over at him.

"Yeah," Oliver replied, they had had a good run. Henry pulled out his gun and lifted it to be placed just over Oliver's forehead.

"I'll miss you," Henry said and Oliver smiled at him.

"I'll see you in a second. Don't worry about it, we won't let anything seperate us ever again." He gripped onto Henry's hands to steady himself, and finally, after over five decades, the elder Peterson brother killed the youngest.

As Oliver's body fell to the floor, Henry had the vaguest thought that maybe it would have been better if he had killed Oliver all those years ago, to save him the heartache now. He shook his head slowly because he couldn't change history. He could only guarantee that he wouldn't be separated from his brother ever again like Oliver had said. Henry held the gun up to his own head and pulled the trigger.

As blackness consumed him, and he fell, he swore he could feel Oliver press a soft kiss to his forehead.