Jacob

I feel like a killer. I mean, it's what I was born to be. But not like this. Not with the blood of one of my own on my hands. In the literal sense.

The only reason I feel this way is because I hear the sound of my Beta's cry tearing through the silent air that followed when Medeia took her last breath. Not even her mate, who severed ties with her just moments before her death stuck around to see her fate. It's Derek that rushes forward, dropping to his knees just as Medeia turns.

He tries to protect her dignity - or what's left of it. Which isn't much, not after what she's done and all the pain she's caused Anastasia. It took her friend's mate almost losing his life for the truth to come to life. But it's not the mate-bond that has Derek holding her in his arms, wiping his own tears away with his shoulder. It's love.

It's the same love that allows me to walk away without feeling much emotion. Empty is what I do feel, dropping the dripping dagger on the ground as I leave a trail of blood for my own shadow to follow.

I know that the pack, especially the elders, would agree that what I've done tonight is the right thing. After all, a pack was as strong as its weakest link, and contrary to what the younger members believed, it's not the Omegas who are our weak point. A pack is built on trust, loyalty and respect. And Medeia proved, through all the horrible things she's done to Anastasia, that she never belonged in our pack after all. Not even a rogue can be as conniving, and I can only pray that Harley and Megan can reflect on their actions when in exile.

As for Tanisha, it's only because of Connor that I decided to give her a free pass. He has always been one of my trusted warriors, and I wouldn't stand to see him go through the same things I have been through. Unlike us - well, Derek and I more specifically - Connor and Tanisha had been in love even before they knew they were mates. It was something that sounded less complicated, and sometimes I wish it was as easy as that.

Why did our hearts have to bond to someone, when our souls decided to go astray? Okay, maybe not astray in the sense that it was destiny, but in the opposite direction.

I head into the den, heaving a frustrated sigh as I look at my bloody hands. I know that if Derek told me not to, I probably wouldn't have done what I did tonight. But he didn't stop me - heck, he didn't even try! Did he also put precedence on the mate-bond he denied, or was it just loyalty to me that made him agree to it? I can't really tell. All I know is that Derek might never get over his heartbreak.

Just as I could never get over mine.

The fresh blood washes off easily, and I'm just patting my hands dry when Derek trudges into the den, his clothes full off blood and his cheeks stained with dry tears. His eyes are red when he looks at me and offers me a suppressed smile - as if he's obligated to show his support.

"Are you here to kill me?"

Derek chuckles as he dumps his weight onto the couch with one leg draped over the armrest. "Kill you? For that bitch?"

"Be careful there, Derek," I throw him a towel to wipe off the blood, "you loved her."

He shrugs as he dabs his hands onto the towel. "Emphasis on the past tense. I can't believe she did all those things. I guess what they say is true, huh," he scoffs, "love really is blind."

"I should go out there," I say, shoving my clean hands into my pocket and staring out to where the warriors carry Medeia's body into the woods. "You coming?"

"Nah, I'm gonna stay here for a bit, if that's okay with you."

"Sure."

I make my way into the woods, where a hole has already been dug up for Medeia. Because she's died a dishonorable death, she won't be getting any rites performed.

It leads me to wonder if I can ever find Anastasia's body so that her rites can be performed, and she can be buried properly. She deserves an honorary funeral. After all, she saved us from the rogue leader, like a true martyr. I watch as Medeia's body is laid to rest, but I know I'll still be restless until I find Ana.

~

I enter the den the following night, having spent most of the day searching again. Just like Derek spent the whole day cooped up in the den, hugging the blanket I covered him with this morning when I found him passed out here.

He's still knocked out cold, and I wonder if he's woken up at all today. I go to him, just to check his pulse to make sure, but as soon as my fingers touch his neck, he jolts awake and grabs my wrist as if I unexpectedly attacked.

I grab my hand back, chuckling, "Watch it there, dude!"

"Sorry," he groans, yawning and stretching his arms over his head, "you startled me."

"Nah, I was checking to see if you were still alive," I teased, dragging his leg off the couch and dropping it so that his foot touched the floor. "Have you even moved since you fell asleep here?"

Derek grins, bundling up the blanket and throws it at me. "I'd have moved if you didn't make me feel at home."

I look into Derek's face, noting how similar to me he was starting to look. His eyes are read, his cheeks drained of color. He just looks like a shadow of his former self, and even his frame looks rather lanky. Pitiful is what we are, and it seems like we're in the same boat, having lost the women we love.

I can't even comfort him, because honestly I don't know how to. The only comfort I'd feel is if she was right here with me, and if I had the chance to tell her how I really felt. But I lost my chances, and the only thing I can do now is drown my sorrows.

At the bottom of an aged whiskey, with enough wolfsbane in it so I'd actually get intoxicated.

I drop the blanket down on Derek's feet and leave him to go down to the dungeon. I know my father always kept a hidden stash behind the relic skull - somewhere no one else would find it. I bow out of respect for the skull - a worshipped thing here at Blood Moon - before throwing open the doors of the secret cabinet.

Ah! There it is! That black-labelled bottle I once received a smack on my hand for so much as looking at. I grin, staring up at the ceiling to mouth a quick apology to my father. And of course, behind it, was the hidden stash of wolfsbane I suspected I'd find.

"Don't tell me you've picked tonight to pray," Derek smacks my shoulder and peeps over my shoulder. "What? Is that a 1930?"

"It sure is! The year of Solomon!" I beam as I turn around and lift up the box, wiggling it in front of his face.

"We're gonna get wasted?"

"Of course we are!"

Derek seems overjoyed by my sudden proposal, and quickly rummages through the dungeon's cabinets for two glasses. He blows in them, because there isn't a washbasin down here and because he's as eager as I am to let the pieces of his heart float in the wind.

I fill up our glasses and sprinkle in some of the purple powder, hearing Derek smack his lips together in anticipation as it swirls in and makes the alcohol inebriating to our kind. I pass him his glass, and we clink them together before each taking a sip of the burning liquor.

"You know," Derek begins when he's halfway through, "we haven't done this in a long time."

It takes me a while to process his words, and when I do I realize why I'm already slipping into the abyss of no thought. "Way too long. But too much stuff's been going on."

"Yeaaah," he drawls, watching the amber liquid as it ripples after another sip, "like the thing with Gisele -"

"Heeey, don't speaaak about her," I slur, glowering at my glass and regretting my decisions tonight.

"Fine! But then do we speak about Ana? Coz she was to me what Gisele was to you."

"And she was to me what Medeia was tooo youuu."

Derek is handling this better than I am - the alcohol I mean. Everything else? Not so much. He stares into the bottom of his empty glass, and fills them with tears. I want to move to get the bottle for a refill, but as soon as I lean forward, I end up stumbling over my own intoxication. Defeated, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

I hear Derek shuffle as he joins me on the floor, folding his arms over his chest while he observes the ceiling as if there's something interesting there. "You know," he says when the silence feels too heavy, "I didn't think you would actually do it."

"Medeia?"

"Ah-hah," a small titter escapes him, "but you did anyway, and I can't say I blame you."

"But do you - blame me, I mean?"

Derek tilts his head slightly, "no. I never understood it before. When you lost Gisele, and Ana rejected me. It felt endurable, right? The physical pain?"

"You felt pain when Ana broke the bond?"

"Yeah. But it's not as bad as the bond broken from the one who holds your heart, am I right?"

I turn my head to face Derek, but he continues to stare up, a tear rolling down his cheek. It's the pain of the heart that's unbearable, and I can't help but feel sorry for him.

"I'm sorry about everything, Derek. I - I -"

"There's a lot that's happened, but the best thing we can do is put it behind us."

"You mean that?"

"Oh!" Derek throws a playful punch into my arm, "Don't get all soft on me! You're the Alpha, and no one does it better than you. I'm proud to be your Beta, Alpha Jacob."

We drift off into a comfortable silence, the effects of the wolfsbane not letting up, but it makes me uneasy. Despite what happened last night, Derek is still proud to be the better to my Alpha. But am I really proud of myself? Of my behavior?

Truthfully, I'm not. I know if I'd taken better care of Anastasia - if all I did was just listen to her that night - she wouldn't have been at the cottage and vulnerable to the rogues and their leader. And she would not have died, no.

She would have been under my protection, and that's exactly what I would have done. I would have protected her. I would have done so much more, but I would have especially taken care of and protected her.

That's what you do for the one you love, isn't it?

Hah! All I can do is feel like a failure. And I had failed in so many things. Even to the pack, who I'd failed to rid of the deceitful ones among us until it was too late.

I'd been so caught up in grieving over my lost mate, that I failed to do many things. If there is anything that I can learn from the Beta, it's that the meaning of life isn't restricted to the loss or rejection of a fated mate. It's the loss of love - real, true love - that breaks a man in two.

Too late.

It's too late to go back and right the wrongs. All I can do is be better now.

And I'd start with the one thing I have left. I am still the Alpha of Blood Moon, and I will show my members that I am a capable leader!

With this new conviction etching itself into my resolve, I sit up through the vertigo and take a deep breath.

"Call our warriors," I say to Derek, "I think they deserve a grand feast for everything that they've been taking care of."

"You wanna go hunting now? Like right now?"

"Yup!" I place a hand on my tummy, "or maybe I'm just hungry."

~

I'm not actually hungry. I just want the pack to know that I've got my shit together, and that I wasn't wallowing in my sorrows. I also want to get rid of the lingering hangover, and the only way to do that is with a hunt. The wolf would instantly kill the effects of the wolfsbane, and a full belly meant that I'd regain the strength I'd been losing all this time.

Connor joins us tonight, having gotten rid of his brace this morning. He's in perfect health, and smiles the moment he sees me. None of them seem afraid of me, but rather concerned about my well-being. Maybe I'm an open book to them, and they can see right through me that Anastasia's death is affecting me more than it should.

Maybe even more than my mate's.

We prepare for our hunt, and I tell my warriors that I'll be leading them tonight. It feels like a lifetime ago when I hunted in lead, but as soon as I'm in position, the stance no longer feels alien to me.

We stalk through the forest, until we reach the mountain. It's just on the left side where we spot a herd of deer, their scents catching our attention first. I didn't even realize how famished I am until I train in on my prey.

The largest of the group - the strongest. Enough meat for all of us, and then some.

Licking my lips, I lower my body, my nose to the ground as I calculate my next move.

'Be still, my wolves,' I instruct them, 'move only when I tell you to.'

A chorus of consensus goes around, and I ready my paws to make the leap. As soon as I do, the herd takes flight, except for the one I've had my eyes on.

With my claws in its neck, the animal yawping as death takes over, I drop it to the ground and sink my teeth into the delicious, rich meat of its belly. As tasty as it is, I find that my appetite just isn't there - a thing I hide from the rest of the pack when I call them over.

They rush over to me, bowing their head in thanks before I encourage them to feast on the deer. They gather around it and pick their spots to chew from, and I pretend to enjoy the rotund belly.

With as much in my belly that I can stomach, and with the others still feasting, I lick my lips and walk away unnoticed. Where we've caught the deer is close to the mountain, and I decide to make my way up.

In the distance is that terrible ledge, where both the women who played an integral role in my life fell from. As I near that ledge, I realize whose death knocked me the hardest.

Anastasia's.

It's easier when someone tells you what's right and what's wrong. And it's harder when you have a nagging feeling that something is right, but you have to choose wrong because of what other people say. That's how the whole thing with Ana feels like. It was easier when I was given a fated mate. It was Mother Selene telling me that she was right for me. But there was always that lingering sense that Anastasia was the one. But I had to pick Gisele. I had to for the sake of my father, the pack, and the Knoon legacy.

Blowing air through my wolf teeth in defeat, I get down on my belly, my paws in front of my face. I stare up into the sky, hoping my Moon Goddess can see me. The only thing I can pray for is to see her face again, and lay her to rest the right way. After all, there's a right and wrong way, and Anastasia suffered too much wrong in her life. It was high time I did something right for her.