Page 88 of Unforgivable

Rhet

"Fucking hell, Thjis." I scowl down at the decapitated heads I've just uncovered. Damnit, I thought he buried the mountain wolf heads in our carcass pit. Turning, I spit on the ground. We both had the same idea of where to bury a body, fuck!

I stare down at Brian, scowling. Agitated beyond belief, I grab a cigarette out of my pocket and light it. Yeah, yeah, I don't usually smoke, and it's fucking ironic as hell that I do, but right now, I just need to calm the fuck down.

I take a drag of the cancer-stick and drop it on Brian. "Well, looks like you're going to have to share, you piece of shit." Brian's eyes spill over, snot running over the dirty rag I shoved in his mouth, body shaking and shivering. His clothes still stink of sex and alcohol, just like the grimy, disgusting house I grabbed him from earlier. The blood and dirt don't help his appearance. They've made a muddy disaster of Brian. Even his hair is stiff with the stuff.

Spinning around, I kick the corpse of Yule deliberately, pissed that he's already dead. "Now, now, Brian. That just means you have to dig a little deeper, yeah? Make the hole nice and large enough to fit two bodies and two severed heads. At least you don't have to bury their bodies, too, yeah?"

Muffled screams of terror are all that Brian can respond with. Of course, even without the gag, he wouldn't be able to say much. When he called Lyri a whore I ripped his tongue from his mouth.

A pity Yule didn't survive the journey here. Two sets of hands could dig this hole even faster. But Yule... Thjis told me he was particularly awful that night. My wolf ended the threat that male poises to the world. I didn't hold back. Just snapped his drunken spine when he was about a block away from the Watering Hole.

My brother... his 'job' that night was keeping males away from our female, to keep them from killing her. He knows, better than the rest of us, who was there and what they were doing. I was lost to the rut, and Ezra contained me as best he could. I was a monster, and who better to kill a couple of monsters than one himself?

"C'mon, Brian. Dig, fucker, dig."

I reach down and hoist Brain into a sitting position. His terror-filled eyes widen even more at the gruesome sight of the two mountain males' heads. The noises he makes sounds like he is gargling his own blood.

I crouch down next to him. "Nah, Brian," I say as if we're best buds, "that wasn't us. Those two males were slaughtered by Alpha Argus up in the mountains. He doesn't like cheaters or rapists, apparently." I tap my bottom lip thoughtfully, "I wonder what he would do to you? The ultimate decision about these fuckers came from their mates, but your dumb blond bitch of a mate sticks by you, huh?"

Brian starts to try and struggle to his feet. I left both his feet and hands unbound because let's face it, he can't escape from me.

"I wonder what his punishment would be for a male who did what you did? Maybe I should call him, but I think he'd be more merciful than me, and that just won't do."

I stand, hauling Brian to his feet as we go up. "Here ya go," I hand him the shovel and stand back. Whimpering, he starts to dig. The dumb fool thinks I'll spare him if he cooperates. How he doesn't see his death in my eyes is beyond me.

He can't dig much. He’s shaking so hard I can hear his bones rattling. His tears are blinding him, and I imagine the broken ribs and ripped tongue must be plaguing him something fierce.

Brian sways on his feet, obviously dizzy. I have no sympathy. Not when I think of Lyri, of how she couldn't stand on her own two feet for weeks. "Keep digging," I snap.

He shoves the shovel at me and turns to run. Without any hesitation or remorse, I flip the heavy handle in my hands and swing. The flat of the shovel hits the back of Brian’s head with a solid thunk.

With a muffled scream, he hits the ground face-first. I line up the pointed end of the shovel with the back of his neck and push just enough so that his struggles cease.

"You should have never touched my female," I tell him before putting all my strength behind the shovel. It digs into flesh and bone, scraping against Brian's spinal cord until I hear the telltale snap. Blood spurts back onto me in an arc, splattering across my bare chest and thighs.

When I lift the shovel up, it gets stuck for a moment. I have to shake it a little before it comes apart from Brian's flesh with a squelch. Brian's partially-severed head lolls around, dangling from the rest of his body by the slightest bit of neck. I nudge it to the side and start to dig.

"Dammit Thjis, you should have made the hole bigger," I mutter.

It's hard work to bury bodies. I don't know if people understand how difficult it is to dig the hole, then drag two, two-hundred-pound carcasses into that hole. It's called 'deadweight' for a reason, and it's fucking brutal.

I pat the earth down over the corpses, satisfied that the stench of death is hidden by the sulfur streams nearby. They pop up every once in awhile on the land, so for now, this one masks the foul odor. Must be why Thjis picked this spot, too. Great minds and all that.

I brush over the earth, making sure to make it look as undisturbed as possible. Looking up, the sun is ready to make its final descent of the day. Perfect for what I have planned next.

I shift back to paws once night has fallen and pick up my bag in my teeth. It's getting warmer, spring has sprung, but it's still cold enough that my fur feels much better than being on feet and nude. It also provides some cover, my coat being so darkly colored.

I don't shift back until I'm just outside Liam Prescott's parents' house. His bedroom is conveniently located on the first floor. He has three younger siblings, all of them on the second floor.

I pull on the clothes I brought along with the thin black gloves. It's relatively easy to jimmy open the window and leap inside. I can faintly hear the sounds of the Prescott family eating dinner. I poke around the room, finding exactly what I expected to.

He has a fucking shrine of Lyri. Pictures of the two of them together and of her alone that seem to span several years. One of them shows a gap-toothed, grinning Lyri, her hair in two braids, one half-undone. She had freckles when she was younger, and her skin was tanned in the photo, not like the still-unhealthy paleness she has now from winter and her recovery. She's holding a pinwheel in one hand with a medal draped over it. It must be from MayDay. I'm tempted to take the photo for myself, but then I would be incriminating myself if anyone ever found it.

Searching a little more, I listen carefully for anyone approaching the room. I find a box of more photos and letters and cards under the bed, all of them written by Lyri to Liam.

I sift through them, dreading finding anything that would indicate that Lyri loves Liam as more than a friend. There's nothing but birthday cards and sweet, friendly messages she sent. It looks like he's kept everything she's ever sent.

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