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Interlude 1-4

  Alpha had stormed off to who knew where, and the rest of my pack gathered in the bedroom Hunter and I had chosen. Scout and Wounder pacing holes in the floor while Hunter sat beside me and helped pick pieces of wood, glass, and drywall from my still-healing wounds. A slow process, I had done it in relative silence as my tongue and lip finished stitching back together from the fight.

  “What the fuck happened anyway,” Hunter asked, more to Scout and Wounder than me.

  “Look, we were downstairs,” Scout said, glancing out the door of the room before closing it once more like the rest of the house wasn’t empty, “we didn’t hear anything until the crashing and growling started, by the time we got out of the kitchen Bloodhound was throwing Alpha off the railing.”

  “We all know what happened, fucker was pushing things again,” Wounder growled, sounding on the verge of transforming.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Hunter said, snapping to his feet as I pulled a few inch long splinter from my arm. “This is the last fucking time, next time I see him I’m cutting off his head.”

  “We can’t kill a pack member, it’s the first fourth, even your mother won’t forgive crossing that line,” Scout said quickly, glaring at Hunter, “maybe we can get him out of the pack, or give him a good scare or something.”

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  “No pack’s going to take him, and we can’t get rid of him unless someone does,” Wounder muttered in disgust, “you really think he’s one good scare from changing his ways?”

  “Look, I’m just saying he’s never tried anything with me, and-” Scout started stopping herself as she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, “fucking…not much room for arguing right now is there?”

  “It’s not our choice anyway,” Hunter said, and I realized what he meant as everyone turned to me.

  I didn’t answer at first, staying completely still as I wondered what the fuck I was supposed to do. Killing a pack mate wasn’t a simple thing, and the very thought of it made me feel like throwing up.

  The idea of seeing Alpha again made me feel worse.

  “I want him dead,” I answered, the words hurting to say with my barely healed tongue.

  The words were met with silence, a range of concern and realization as everyone shifted in their spot. Everyone knew what had been said, and it was Wounder who spoke up first as he said, “no one can ever find out.”

  “We’ll need a cover story,” Scout pointed out, rubbing her chin in concern.

  “We’ll think of one,” Hunter agreed, rising to his feet with a sigh, “for now…we’re in this together. No one ever learns what we’re going to do here, we forget he ever fucking existed. Once he’s gone, he’s gone, and we forget his name existed.”

  There was a small mumbling of agreement, and I spoke up next, holding my dad’s jacket close to me as I said, “we can’t let his spirit ever say what we did to him.” and everyone looked horrified as they realized what I meant.

  We couldn’t just kill the man, we couldn’t just rip his head off or burn him alive or find some silverware to jam through his chest.

  We needed to eat his heart. That was the only way we could do this.

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