Annihilation - Book Three

Chapter 2

"Bloody hell!" Verando gasps as he climbs up the drop ladder. The waiting Lycan patrons wrap him in a crude blanket that does little to soak the water from his clothes. Teeth-chattering coupled with the steam emanating from his body, the tall male was quite the sight.

It billows off of him as if he were fit to burst into flames; while he didn't often feel cold, the chill of the surf had chilled him right to the bone in the harsh winter wind. His light eyes fixate on the ship, the sound of the waves blocking out any possible goodbyes or expletives coming from the image of me. I was but a man who stood against the railing with all of the world's disappointment on my face.

 Damning his keen sight, he could see my expression all too well; he knew my emotions and how this betrayal would be the final nail in the coffin. But, at least he knew that I'd chosen him. That if he'd remained, if we'd found a way to make it work, I would have picked him and could have even found a way to love him.

 With little hope for survival, it was difficult not to wish for a selfish heart that might have allowed him to stay with me. But, alas, he couldn't leave these men here to die. Not when he was the only one who could help them, not when they had grown to rely on this legend of a man who would liberate them all. The guilt would have prevented him from enjoying that happiness, kept him awake more than any of the nightmares of war and torment; it would have all been for not if he'd stayed on that boat.

"You didn't have to do that. You've done plenty for our cause." One of the men says, his voice was solemn and low, apologetic in a sense. They, too, realized the fate he had damned himself. A disease that affected only lycans, they would be a danger to themselves and this city. "But.. we are grateful to have you here." 

 As the boat begins to shrink in the distance, there would be no going back. 

"We only get one life, men. Wasting it here with this sorry lot of beggars seems about fitting. I couldn't well leave you all behind to rot, now could I?" Verando sighs, a one-sided grin tugging at his lips, dimpling his cheek in a way that made him look more youthful. Putting on a show was something he was good at; shoving down the disappointment and regret of leaping off that boat would be the final chapter of our story together. 

 I didn't have to forgive him, for it was unlikely that he would ever see me again. What was he to do when this was over? Wait for me at the castle like an obedient pet? The thought makes him chuckle, shaking his head at how low he'd sunk into the world of ownership. Yet.. the idea of him belonging to me wasn't so bad. 

It was for morale that he held onto the idea that this would end; the message had been clear, and the intention behind the release was the extermination of a lycan plague.

 His boots crackle with fresh ice as he shifts his weight on the dock, returning him to reality as the fog conceals the ship off the horizon.

"Come on, you need to get out of those clothes before you're overcome with the cold," the male offers, they wait patiently for him to lead them back to the inn. Always the one in charge, always the one to make the decisions, the dark figure of his subconscious looms overhead like an invisible veil. 

"welcome home." The darkness beckons. 

"Marcus left us with another night at the Inn, some clothes, and a coin to make the trip." Another adds. 

"He's a good man," Verando murmurs, exhaling in relief as they enter the warm lobby, a break from the frigid wind. More nights outside, more time on the run, and sleeping in hard places that would further challenge his shoulder.

Verando breaks off from the group, heading to his room to rinse off the sins of the sea. It would seem that they were intuitive enough to know that he needed some time to himself. The smell overwhelms his senses, heavy and overwhelming with salt and sulfur.