One Last Act

The air was tense and cold in the prisoner's chambers, for the time had come for his match-up with Metas. Silas put on a brave face, but his body betrayed him as he started to tremble as though a deep ice pick had been thrust into the core of his body. As Jyriah, Veltar, and Ajax approached him through the entryway.

"Are you ready for everything to be over?" Jyriah asked with a grin on his face.

"Jyriah - listen - I really, truly did not know about Syrana's death. I'm just as mad as you are," Silas tried again to worm his way out of the problem he was in, but at least for once he was telling the truth.

A truth no one believed.

"Is that really the last thing you want to say to me? Lies and pathetic attempts for me to somehow care about your fate? Are you an idiot-nevermind. I know you are."

"Jyriah, please - we're brothers," Silas uttered out.

"Oh, fuck you. If I hadn't already promised Metas that I wouldn't hurt you, I'd pluck your eye out and eat it in front of you like the beast I can truly be," Jyriah replied with a coldness reserved only for the pile of scum in front of him.

"Don't give him the satisfaction, Jyr. Let's take him to our Alpha and he can try his best to beg for his forgiveness instead. His is the one that matters - and I am pretty sure our King has none awaiting him." Veltar said as he put a hand to his shoulder.

"We came to offer you the very last choice you will ever have for the rest of your life. You can either walk with us to your death, or you can be dragged there. It's your choice. Take to your paws and stand as the false king you are, and you can make your decisions with your actions," Ajax spoke with the same vernacular as Metas had, and let his piercing, bright green eyes burrow into Silas' deeper emerald ones.

"Are you ready? I know we are," Veltar said with a grin, and as the last word he uttered as a mortal. He had nothing else to say and was eager to watch the pretending king be torn apart by the real one.

The other two males followed suit as soon as Silas had been untied.

The blonde 'man' still stood on two feet amongst the three wolves and stared at them all with great anger, resentment, disgust, and contempt. Even now, he felt as though the world was owed to him. Despite the several attempts to draw him to their side, he resisted for the mere fact he felt better than everyone else, and just couldn't fathom how he wasn't seen as the superior leader.

"Are you going to walk as you should, or are you really going to stay on two feet?" Jyriah 'snuffed' out with a tone that wasn't kind.

He was being mocked, and as a mortal or a wolf, their kind could hear their conversations as though they had been talking. Silas was a fool to think that not being in his lycan form would somehow drown out their responses.

Soon, he shrunk down to the golden-haired wolf he was so proud to be, and walked ahead of the three of them, still trying to pull some sort of plan out of thin air in order to save his own skin, but also not destroy his image.

The traitorous male walked ahead of his three escorts, and attempted to keep his head high. He knew no one was going to have pity on him, so his next move was blind gusto.

He kept his back straight even as the large crowd came into view. It seemed like every survivor of his crusade to find Cassandra was here - young and old. While he expected the adults, he was shocked by the attendance of the pups who were all looking at him with eyes filled with anticipation - anticipation for him to finally meet his end.

Silas was able to play outwardly that he was brave, and confident - but inside he was withering like a sad, soppy cat left in the cold rain on a scary night. He was barely able to stop himself from outwardly trembling.

That 'barely' ability snapped when he saw Metas' giant, black figure sat expectantly with Myranda at his side.

He was physically sick as he saw her ugly, patchy fur he had failed to snuff out when he had the chance. Had he just been able to kill the newly accepted Luna, this entire story would have resulted in his triumph.

The way he could feel her gold and 'white' eyes burrow into his chest only made him avoid her gaze that much more as he stopped many feet away from Metas and took his own upright seated stance, which everyone could tell was a bluff.

The entire hollowed-out room was deathly quiet as the suspense became unbearable.

Metas had no trouble being heard as he announced with authority, "Silas of the Mountain - you have been boisterous and proud for many years about how you will be King. Now is chance to prove to all of us, that you are capable of being an Alpha by defeating the one who has rightful claim to throne, being me. If you win, you can save your own skin for as long as the pack allows it. Should you lose, you will be executed immediately, and I will keep your coat as my own personal trophy. Understood?"

Silas just stared back at the large wolf silently. He was trying to formulate something to say, but nothing came to his mind. With all of the eyes of the pack upon him, and no Harbinger at his side, he was suddenly starting to realize how alone he was, and how royally fucked he was. He felt that if he just said nothing for now, it would be fine.....but then Metas took two steps towards him and he blurted out, "I-I'm sorry..."

What a joke. One so funny, the entire crowd laughed in amusement and in mockery.

"There is no sorry. There is no taking back what you did, what you have said, and how you have behaved. How many times did I reach my paw out to you for a truce or for friendship? How long do you think I'll allow you to torture me? How long again would it be until you stabbed me in the back, or tried to take over again? Why would I let you live? Why would any of these souls let you live after what you've done?" Metas asked with a deep rage that festered hot in his stomach.

"Listen - I'll just go off somewhere. You'll never have to worry about me again....I promise..." Silas tried in vain. "I get it, you're mad - and you should be - but just forgive me this one time, and you will never see my face again...." Silas tried again to appeal to Metas, but it was quite clear that his footing hadn't changed.

He dropped the tough-guy act, and switched tactics. Metas was known to be merciful to the weak. Maybe if he finally just tried to act the part, it would be fine. Now, he groveled and begged. "Please, my Alpha...." (a good start in his own personal opinion). "I will do whatever you want if you just let me leave and spare my hide. I wish to see my daughter again, or to at least know she is safe if you beat Harbinger," he pleaded with all his acting might.

"When I beat Harbinger." Metas corrected him coldly. He may not have believed his words, but he wanted Silas to say them. He wanted the male before him to look as pathetic as he truly was.

"Of course, my King - when you beat him. My apologies," Silas uttered with a fake fear in his throat.

"The only thing that I require of you, is your death. How many parents here wished they could see their pups again? There is onne in particular you killed in your rage in front of an entire village - and you expect me to just let you go? Fuck yourself." Metas replied and stepped towards Silas with authority.

The blonde wolf only stayed at his kowtowing position as the king neared.

"I will offer to raise your daughter as my own. Should she accept me, she'll barely remember you by the time I give her away to a worthy male on her wedding date. She will be treated like the precious rose she is, and not have to deal with you yelling at, and hitting your spouse in front of her. That is the only comfort you will get in this lifetime. The only other thing will be death I bring upon you."

Fine. He was going to be that way, was he? The emerald-eyed idiot sneered with disgust and just as Metas got closer, he jolted his head out and snapped at his right leg and was able to clamp down on the tender muscles with satisfaction.

He didn't let go either until he felt his teeth scrape bone, and Metas' jaw clamp onto the back of his neck.

Once the leg was torn from his mouth, Metas slung Silas onto his side, and then let go of his nape to retreat backwards by two steps.