Confessions of a Killer

31 Bloody communications

Song: Tears of Gold (stripped) by Faouzia

Killian:

Plastic splintered in my hands, the cool metal of the phone slicing into the palm tightening its hold on the shattered phone. Red rivulets sluiced down my wrist and off my elbow. Little droplets of my lifeblood splattered on the whitened carpeting as I mentally kicked myself.

I should know better by now.

I pulled the damaged phone away from my ear, the news I'd just gotten piercing me harder than the molded fossil-fueled device meant for communication into my palm. Closing my eyes I allowed the shard to dig deeper, clenching my fist and listening as the droplets softly hit the carpet. The silence in the room as I'd cut the call nearly visceral with tension.

Opening my eyes, I shot a glare at the Beta before me. His hazel eyes downcast, dark brows pushed together like a hairy caterpillar. I internally grimaced at the thought, ignoring the submissive action.

"What do you have planned Alpha?" He asked, eyes trained on the blood still dripping onto the floor, voice seemingly loud after the thick silence.

"Her brother is being released." I whispered, heart beginning to pound as the possibilities run rampant through my overworking brain.

"Fuck."

"A-Alpha?" The old man stuttered as I pressed the plastic bit into his throat, fingers cupping, squeezing slightly until our blood mixed.

"What has he done, what is he planning?" Voice cold, rumbling with the snarl that comes before a shift, my beast roiling to the surface, ready to rip the Beta open, sinking my venom so deep into his blood stream he wouldn't know where I began and he ends.

"W-what do you m-mean?"

I pressed farther. Watching impassively as our blood mingled and soaked the collar of his polo. He didn't dare to look up, didn't dare to lift a goddamn finger against me in fear of what I might do. Like every single one of these leeching fucking parasites.

My brother got off Easy. Too fucking Easy if you ask me, and yet, I wouldn't have wanted this for him. I've always been the whipping boy, the fucking experiment, the last man standing, holding the stick of dynamite in the last few seconds before it blows.

This is different.

This will hurt her.

I cannot fucking abide by that.

"What the fuck does my father have planned Voss?" I growled, voice lower than before, nearly grating.

"I-I don't know e-exactly!" He sputtered, struggling slightly as the plastic bit farther into his throat. His gasp of pain music to my fucking ears as I clenched down farther.

"What. Does. He. Have. Planned?"

Voss stammered, his breath coming in gulps as the venom in my blood took to his veins. The fucking serum I've ingested my entire life nothing but a fucking poison to anyone who's not used to it, haven't acclimated to it.

I can feel the smirk on my lips, twisting like my heart Barely beating inside my chest.

I have lost... everything.