“I’m the king of these people. I say, they do. I growl, they cower. That’s power!” Juan can’t let go. So lost in his own insanity and blinded by what he thought he had. I can only sigh at how far gone is the mind of a man that the Santo pack once respected.
“Enough, this is boring. I came here to settle a debt, and you don’t need to be able to talk to do that.” Varro halts all illuminate his cheeks with a red tint. His fierce on show as he nods to Darrius and in an instant the black figure disappears from my left side. A flash, a flick of wind, so speedy I almost miss it and he’s holding Juan’s head back in a powerful grip as he forces open his jaw and cuts out his tongue with a glinting dagger.
It’s instant, blink and you miss it, fast. And yet so overwhelmingly gruesome as Juan screams and gargles and Darrius makes quick work of the task he was ordered to do. I gasp inwardly so fast I start to choke and yet can’t pull myself away from seeing what’s being done. Blood pouring down Juan’s face as he’s released to wriggle and squirm on the floor, with muffled wails and gasps of agony. Tears stream down his face and I feel the wolves around me reel back in shock at what was just done without any hesitation or verbal command. Silence heavy, emotions chaotic, and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from this gruesome sight.
Darrius throws the dismembered flesh to Varro in a casual toss as though it’s nothing but a caught fish. Varro catches it between sharp talon fingernails and holds it aloft in a mocking manner, giving it a triumphant shake in Juan’s direction. A smile spreading on that face that changes softer features into something terrifying and cruel that for the first time instils a sense of fear in me. He’s completely immune to Juan’s pain and bellowing and in fact seems to take pleasure from it. The shock around me is unified. No one moves an inch and yet silence is deafening from all my subs and mate. No Lycan would ever do something like this, but I guess our species are far apart.
“Life will be quieter from here on in, I think. Don’t you agree, Darrius?” Varro scoffs, his tone jocular and he tosses the tongue in his hand aside as though discarding trash, wiping his blood dipped nails on his leg and brushes his hands against the fabric to wipe them clean. He tosses his hair back with a head flick and returns to that commanding stance once more.
“Are you going to kill him or torture him slowly?” Sierra appears by my side, her voice shaky and her emotions taut. She seems detached on the surface, but I can feel her pain and fear from within. As much as she hates Juan, she has never had the stomach to watch suffering. She’s as rattled by what we witnessed as I am, despite the years of battles and deaths of hybrids around us.
“Oh, he’ll live for now. In pain, and torment. Why don’t you come along and play a little, seeing as you carry as much despisal for him as I do. You are the former Luna, are you not? This worthless scums mate?”
“I have no desire to watch him suffer like that. I’m not him. He’s no longer my mate and nothing to do with me anymore.” Sierra’s eyes glaze over, and she turns away from the pitiful sight. Radar coming to comfort her and understanding that she has no stomach for this. As Luna you are bred to feel the pain of your Lycans, even the likes of Juan. Whether you want to or not. Even me, right now, after everything, I feel sorrow for what I’m witnessing and want it to end. I don’t want to expose my mind to this.
“You mutts really don’t do vengeance and revenge all that well, do you? One whiff of a peaceful end and you are happy to let it all go. It’s rather disappointing.” Varro walks towards Juan and then circles him, much like a lion looking at its dying prey, eyes on that still twitching body who has now quietened to muffled whines.
I still don’t understand why he’s not turning Lycan to heal himself and spot the weird golden handcuffs holding his wrists together behind his back. Ornate, jeweled, solid gold, and strangely beautiful for a set of hand binds. Varro catches my eye and follows my line of sight with a sudden smile to break up that intimidating expression. His whole demeanor switching in a flash back to that gentlemanly presence.
“Nice, aren’t they? Bewitched little trophies given a long time ago by our friendly neighborhood witch. They stop immortals from being able to use their gifts. He’s basically human with these on.” He chuckles to himself as though he finds it highly amusing.
That explains it, and why his pain and suffering from here on in will be worse than hell. I doubt Varro intends to take them back off at any point unless death is imminent, and I don’t even want to know why Leyanne would gift Lord of the vampires something like this. Even if it was hundreds of years ago. I can’t figure her out at all.
“Can you take him and leave; I don’t want to see this.” Colton finally breaks, his voice ravaged and husky, and his eyes ambering as he fails to control his inner turmoil. He’s still standing on the sidelines with our quiet pack. Watching, waiting, all holding their breaths for this to be over already.
“Okay, okay. I can read the room. I see you don’t have the stomach for this. I thought you would like a show. Never mind…. Darrius!” Varro clicks his fingers and that black shrouded figure shoots back to Juan’s side. Another flash move that is almost missed by the human eye and it’s not hard to see how much faster than wolves these pure breeds are. Darrius is moving at the speed of light. Blink and you miss it.
He hauls Juan up to his feet with little effort, like he’s a sack of feathers. Juan’s body dirty and scraped up in its nakedness. He has blood all over his lower face, neck, and chest, as his wound continues to ooze, and I finally see the defeat on his face. The emptiness of his now brown eyes and the pale pallor of a body undergoing pain. His focus downcast and pathetic and I hate the fact it pains me in the chest and pushes my empathy out to the forefront. This man who started everything, destroyed it all, and I feel sorry for him in this moment.
It’s pathetic really.
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