Air  

Wrukaog looked at his mate's pale face in the flickering light. She looked like one of his crew who had just made their first kill. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, her emerald green eyes lightly dull as she worked through the information in her head.

Her hands were trembling as she gripped the book as if it were her lifeline, the only thing keeping her grounded.

Frack that. She didn't need a book to keep her grounded; that was what she had her mates for.

Letting out a low growl, he took the history of Dakar from her hands and tossed it over his shoulder. He didn't care about whether it got damaged or not. It had destroyed his mate which was more than he would accept.

When he didn't hear it hit the ground, he looked over his shoulder to see the book float to the top shelf it had initially fallen from.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.