“I understand what’s going to happen, and I welcome it.” His words are spit in his father’s face
“you attacked my daughter?” The big beta’s body blocks out Clayton’s face,
“She threatened Rya. My wolf wanted the threat gone.” All these males‘ eyes turn toward me. I hold them all with mine, not saying a word, What can be
“You know the punishment for attacking another pack member.” The Alpha looks smaller to me now, not as big as he used to be.
Π
“Ido.” He’s resigned to his late.
The winds starts to pick up. A maroon shadow from the moon falls across Clayton’s face. Tuming green eyes my way, he just holds me in my place. It’s as if he’s looking at me like it will be the last time he will ever see me again.
“I’m sorry.” The apology is real, full of deep pain. I say nothing back. He doesn’t look like he expected a response.
“Treat Rya like she deserves. He good to her.” Hard eyes bored into Dallas,
Stepping up to the third oldest brother, Cash, his jaw is clenching so tight I can hear teeth break. “As 500 he’s well enough, claim her. Take her away
from here.” Cash snaps his teeth Clayton being held back from his brother’s big hands.
as
“She’s the most beautiful female you will ever meet, and her heart is good. Just please give her a chance. She deserves to be truly happy.” A clawed hand tries to swipe at Clayton’s neck. He would be no match for him. Clayton would eat him.
“Stop.” His mother breathes into his ear, a forceful command no higher than a whisper, and it stills him.
He gives another look to me before he walks toward his end
The supple, worn leather handle rests easily in his hands. Generations of use have made the brown turn dark, shiny. The silver threading that has been woven into the braid is hundreds of years old, yet it does not tray at the end. The master weaver lanew how to construct this to last generations. I wonder it our generation could ever make anything like this again.
The cold is starting to slither from behind, up my back like a snake, slowly creeping higher and higher, wrapping around my neck. I’m not sure I can bear witness to this sight, yet I’m paralyzed, unable to look away.
He’s standing at the same pole where everyone stands. This pole doesn’t recognize status, only pain. Everyone is equal while taking the whip’s mark. His hands are being bound, but not in the flimsy string that would tie a juvenile down. His are locked into place with big metal chains that fasten tight against skin, infused with a high concentration of silver. A full–grown male wolf should know how to behave by now. This is meant to hurt as much as possible.
His foreheadrests against the pole, eyes closing. A tear already comes, not from the physical pain that he’s about to endure, but the way his heart must be blowing apart inside himself.
He tilts his head up, and the moon greets his eyes. She sees everything in the night. Dark, dangerous when she has to be, beautiful, loving when her children need her to be. His father approaches him, a hand on his head while speaking soft words into his ear. His shirt is ripped off, his back exposing not pristine flesh untouched, but marked with silver–tipped needles.
