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Tear him apart. Bathe in his blood. Take what he stole from every wolf who died at his hands—his life.
The moment Seff realized what he was seeing, I felt it. His head swung my way, his upper lip curling into a fang-filled grin.
He knows.
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” The rogue groaned as he moved to sit up. His words came in rasping, gurgling breaths. The rifle he’d been holding lay on the ground beside him, forgotten. He screamed like a dying animal as he tore at the gauze wrappings around his arms, hands, and torso. An almost black crust had formed over each deep slash. The uninjured flesh puckered and stretched with each slight movement. The wounds oozed pus and blood, and the smell—putrid, like rancid meat.
I clenched my jaw at the sight of what I’d done to this male. I’d ripped through his skin with vicious bone-deep slashes and torn away flesh and muscle.
I should’ve killed him.
Brutus’ over six-foot human form appeared at the rogue’s right side, moving out from behind a tree. “Answer a few questions, and I’ll put you out of your misery.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic.
The rogue barked out a rough laugh that ended in a coughing spasm. “I can barely feel my body right now as it is.”
I kept my eyes focused on the rifle, my body tense and ready to move. Seff slipped around the trees, his paws silent in the soft powder.
“I don’t doubt you’re nearly frozen,” Brutus said. “Will you answer my questions?”
“Are you...will you...kill me?” The unmistakable pain in the rogue’s voice gave me great satisfaction.
Brutus nodded. “Like I said, I’ll end your misery.”
The rogue’s chest rose in a shuddering, raspy breath. “Yeah. I’ll answer.”
“Why the rifle? You plan to shoot me?”
The rogue shook his head. “My brother couldn’t kill me.” Another shaky breath. “He left it so I could off myself.”
“Where did your brother go?”
When the rogue didn’t answer, Brutus stepped close enough to squat next to the shivering male. The snowflakes turned liquid from the heat the rogue put off. No doubt he ran a high fever as his body fought the infection in his wounds.
“Where did he go? What’s his plan?”
After another wheezing breath, the rogue answered, “He’ll never stop. Not until every Alpha who passed judgment on our father dies.”
Brutus nodded again. “My son, Jarek, did you know him?”
Oh, gods. Brutus had a son in San Francisco.
The rogue hung his head as if trying to recall the name.
“Did you know Jarek?” Brutus asked again, his deep voice still calm.
“You want to know if he’s dead?” The rogue grimaced as he pushed his dirty hair from his face.
“Yes.”
“He never joined our pack. He was just there. He broke Rule’s law.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Rule ordered his death.”
Brutus’ hands curled into tight fists, but his voice never wavered. “Did you take part in Jarek’s murder?”
“We call itexecution.” An unrepentant smile spread across the rogue’s face. “He was a fighter.”
“Where is my son’s body?” The words rumbled out in a low, menacing growl.
“Buried...with the others.”
