Movement No. 34 #2
Shock radiates across my system in waves, my throat constricting as I consider what this really means for me.
I never thought I’d actually become Alpha.
As a child, I was jealous of Tyrus, not understanding how he was more suited to lead the pack than me.
Over time, I became comfortable with the idea of being second one day, and I even looked forward to it.
But then Tyrus was killed and everything changed.
My father needed me to prove myself. To go on a mission that, had I actually attempted, would’ve caused my death.
So of course it’s surprising that Stephano doesn’t require the same.
He isn’t going to make me prove my worth, but there’s still some hurt and desperate little girl inside me that feels I must.
“I won’t be like him. I’ll never be like him,” I say, wanting him to know that I am not my father.
“I know. We all do. And those that don’t will figure it out eventually.”
I take his hand in mine. “Will you be my second?”
He laughs, the sound familiar and hearty. “I’m old. You should pick Zuri or someone else you care for.”
“Please, Stephano,” I plead.
“I will be your second until you get steady on your feet, and then I’d like you to pick Zuri or Clio—someone with their whole life ahead of them—to be by your side. But being Alpha means you have to return home.”
Home. It’s a strange word. Pack Escalus’ den was home my entire life, until it wasn’t. Hel’s Carnival became my home, or at least where I lived, but it never really felt like home. Honestly, I’ve spent my entire life without a real home.
My father made me feel unwanted. A mistake. And if I’m honest with myself, that’s how Hel’s Carnival was at first too. We dream in the dark, but home is where the light glows. I’d never had that before.
Until her.
Now, home isn’t a place for me, but a feeling. It’s a soft place to land, a safety net, but most importantly, it’s a short-haired felion with the most beautiful smile.
“I need time,” I say, and Stephano doesn’t answer me.
“I understand. But I’ll be preparing the den for your return, so please, when you’re ready, come back to us.”
I hear a loud groan coming from near the block of ice, and I spot Adrian Capulet. His father is dead, and I’m not sure where his loyalties lie. He’s around the same age as me, just a couple of years younger, and I wonder if he grew up under the same pressures.
Maybe he hates me. I was raised to be second, rather than him, and maybe he envies me for that. It doesn’t matter now, but I wonder if he loathed me, or if he wanted me to lead.
Seeing as he’s still breathing, maybe I should ask him.
I dart across the carnival towards him, and he looks like he’s bleeding pretty severely.
“Hey,” I say, walking towards him. “Do you need medical attention?”
“I’m fine,” he grits out. His skin is covered in dirt and blood, the blonde of his hair coated with ash.
“Look, you can hate me all you want, but I’d rather get you the help you need,” I say, and he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face.
“I don’t hate you, Tempest, but my father is dead. I know you hated yours, but… I couldn’t find it in my heart to hate mine,” he says, his voice shaky and broken.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, because that's all I really can say.
“I knew what he did to people, and I didn’t stop him, so maybe I deserve this. I’m just as much a monster as they were.”
“No. No, that’s not true. You couldn’t stop them, there was no way,” I say, and move to help him up. “What matters now is what we do next. We can forge a better future for the next generations of lupion. We can do it together.”
Yasmeena is coming through the gate from camp and I hail her to come towards us; she can help me carry Adrian to get medical help. She nods, a big smile on her face, and I see something in my peripheral vision.
Aida is slithering towards us, screaming. She’s far away, but she moves closer, and I gain clarity of what she’s saying. “Tempest, run!”
What? Does she think Adrian is a threat? He can hardly walk.
“Tempest! I had a vision,” she continues to slither closer, but comes to a halt, clearly not wanting to get too close. “You have to—”
Run.
I can’t hear anything, can’t see anything, my vision completely white, but I know I’m alive.
I can feel the beating of my heart in my chest. I can smell the blood and the cold.
It’s so unbelievably fucking cold and I want to throw up.
My ears are ringing and my head feels like it’s going to explode.
I think something did explode.
Slowly, my senses start to come back to me. The tangy, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, followed by the sound of voices screaming. Then, I feel hands dragging something heavy off of me.
When my vision finally clears, I realize it’s Adrian.
“What just happened?” I groan, my entire body aching, feeling like I just fell from the top of a building and splattered onto the ground.
“Your ice capsule detonated,” Yasmeena says.
What on Hel? “What do you mean it detonated?”
“There was a flash of lightning and it exploded,” she explains, tears streaming down her face. “I thought you died, but he—”
I look over at Adrian, whose limp body lies next to me, and sit up. A shard of ice pierces his chest, blood soaking his shirt, and I start to hyperventilate.
If Cain were a better leader, none of this would have happened.
I should have never been forced to fight my own, but he left me with no choice.
Tears swell in my eyes, and there’s a part of me that wishes I could turn back the clock, but I know this was inevitable.
I have always been destiny bound. I just wish Adrian wasn’t caught in the crossfire.
“Breathe, Tempest, breathe,” Yasmeena says, rubbing my back. “There’s nothing you could’ve done, you didn’t know.”
“The heat from his lightning,” I start, pausing every few words to pant. “Must’ve turned the ice. Into steam. It probably made it. Explode.”
“Breathe, princess,” Yasmeena says, and continues talking to me, her voice calming.
“Where’s Cain?” I ask once my breathing is steady.
“I don’t think he’s dead,” Aida says. “I’m going to go tell the others; you’ll need to go to the hospital, too.”
“Thank you,” I tell the serpentine, and then look back to Yasmeena. “Can you help me go to him?”
She nods, helping me up from where I lie, and I limp towards my father.
He’s completely still, covered in blood and ice, and I’m honestly not sure he is alive.
His entrails hang out, fleshy-looking guts trailing down like large worms, and one of his legs is partially severed.
His mouth is open, his eyes—the same as mine—are glossed over.
But as we step closer, I can hear his beating heart. It’s slowing down, but it’s still beating.
“You don’t have to watch this,” I say to Yasmeena, but she doesn’t move.
Stepping into my father’s field of vision, I let my tears fall. Not because I’m grieving or in pain, and not because of my father’s abuse. No, I cry, because I’m finally allowed to. Never again will I be imprisoned by his voice, or his narrow way of thinking.
“It’s a shame you were so weak,” I say with a snarl, just like my father had once said to me. Reaching down, I rip his skin apart like the ribbons of a corset. “But now, things will be better.” I rip through flesh and muscle, breaking his bones, before I tear out his heart.
For a moment, I just stare at it. Bloody and mangled, it beats twice in the palm of my hand before I toss it onto the ground like discarded trash.