Annihilation - Book Three

Chapter 29

Verando's POV- 

It's hard not to rush as we disembark from the tiny deathtrap that has carried us down the river the past two days. During those two days of hell, I froze and surged the river haphazardly in my sleep. It was enough to wear on even the hardiest of the crew, and Verando, admittedly, was not a fan of water travel.

 In his urgency, he found it challenging to remain engaged and excited like the rest of the group. While everyone looks forward to an evening of real conversation and progress on the mission, he is focused on the risk of being exposed to another party full of unknowns. 

The moment his feet hit the ground, he can breathe a sigh of relief, watching me leave with Adriam to get treatment for an injury that could have been prevented, an injury that nearly cost me my life. His feet ache to move as Marcus puts an arm around him, giving him a firm pat.  

"You don't deserve him, you know. First Marisol. Now Nic. When are you going to grow up?"

 Verando flinches, shrugging off the Spanish man, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at the ground. "That's two offenses; you act as though I've committed murder. A man makes mistakes.." 

Marcus gestures to all around them in a sweeping motion and sarcastically bows. "World, meet conqueror."

"Just worry about yourself, yeah?" 

A tall blond elf dressed in sheer clothing comes to greet them, and Verando swats at Reid to focus on something other than the fact that you can see her nipples. While there are royalty and finely dressed patrons here, the help seems to be sheer entertainment value, for they hardly have any depth to their clothes despite the weather. 

She winks at Reid and cocks a brow at the disapproving warlord. Leading them away, she tells them they've been given clothes to get changed into something more presentable and fitting for the evening; it's hard not to shrink away as it feels like the world is closing in on him. 

Flashes of the wolf argue with this human persona.

The surrounding voices sound like distant echoes as he tunes in and out of conversations that typically fade into the background noise. He's trapped here between the dull senses of a mortal and the keen interference of his hidden passenger.  

"Doesn't look like a lycan..."
"So strange."
"Eyes."
"The eyes."
"Watching us-"

Verando slips into the back room, slamming the door, running his hands through his hair, and pacing as he struggles to regain control. Reid knocks timidly, "Everything alright?" The whispers are back, only this time they're real, and the wolf still has his say.

"Yes. I just need a moment alone." There's no escape from the torment, no relief for the wicked; he swings to punch the wall but stops and lets a distressed breath escape his lips. Verando rests his palm over his already bruised hand. This body is fragile; this body doesn't belong to him.

 "Damn it." He curses, resting his back against the wall and sliding into a sitting position. It's hard to resist the desire to drink away the whispers and the faint tugging on the edge of his subconscious; it's easier to ignore when he could drown in the drink and forget why he was trying to become mortal in the first place. 

Going back to that night in the outpost, the memories of Marisol triggered the inner beast in a way that he couldn't be prepared for at the glimpse of his former self, uncontrolled, unrelenting, and unapologetic. 

"That's not you, that's me. I've always been there." 

In the torment of his nightmares, he's left vulnerable to the wrath of Alpha, and sleep has been nearly impossible. Exhausted, his body felt heavy and foreign.