Chapter 113: Chapter 113

~“You enjoy that, don’t you?”~

~It was pitch black, too dark to see, too dark to feel anything. Just a voice, echoing in the darkness, consuming him.~

~“The blood, the death. You’re a filthy beast.”~

~The stench of vomit filled the air, overpowering any other smell. It made the bile rise in his throat, filling his mouth. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. The air was too thick. What was it? Was that why he couldn’t see?~

~"They start them young. These filthy beasts. They train their young to kill. It's easier when they're younger. That's why we do the same."~

~He sneered. “Did mommy and daddy teach you how to rip a throat, huh? Maybe I should show you how it’s done instead.”~

~His parents. He couldn’t see them. He couldn’t smell them.~

“JULIAN!”

He sat up, reaching out for whatever was in front of him. He gripped as hard as he could before using his bodyweight to push it down on the ground. A loud yelp echoed through and he squeezed harder.

A throat, he was holding a throat.

Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked a few times, clearing the haze from his eyes.

That was when ~she~ came into focus. Maya.

She was lying beneath him, her red hair spread out around her head while her face was contorted. She was gasping for air while her hands were reaching for his wrists, scratching at him.

He saw her eyes narrow, a glint of yellow in them; she was about to shift. From a distance, he could hear noises and rumblings, but he pushed them out of his mind, his focus on Maya. His hands were shaking, echoes of that ~voice~ still ringing in his head.

The air was light, dizzying, the scent of the room nothing like the death, vomit, and decay he had been subjected to just moments ago. ~He was here~. He was with ~her~.

Before she could shift, he let go of her, sitting back on his heels. His breaths were heavy, sweat trickling down his back, following his spine. ~What the fuck~? A memory? A fucking nightmare?

Julian watched her sit up, a fire in her eyes. ~She was fucking furious~. He couldn’t blame her.

"What kind of fucking bubble did you just burst?" she asked, a hand to her chest. "What the hell was that? What the hell do you think I am?"

“I thought.” One breath. “I’m sorry. I remembered something.” Inhale. Exhale.

“A memory or a fucking psychosis?”

“Look, I don’t know. It feels - it felt real.”

How could he explain it when he didn't even understand it himself? It all felt so real, leaving him in a fog of drowsiness. So much so that he had forgotten where he was - and who he was with.

“MAYA.”

There was no mistaking whose voice that was.

“MAYA OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR.”

She huffed to her feet, her hands balled into fists as she stomped to the door. She yanked it open, one hand on the doorway as if to block the entrance to the room. “What the fuck do you want?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I want? What the fuck was that?”

“Nothing. I’m fucking handling it.”

“Maya, I swear—“

“You swear what Alex? Nothing fucking happened. Do I barge into your room when your mate’s in heat and I hear a bunch of noises? No. I don’t judge your sex life, don’t judge mine.”

“Your neck’s all flushed.”

~Damn it. It is~. He could spot it from his position. He was the cause. He had done that to her.

“So, perhaps I enjoy a bit of roughness. I’ve told you before. It’s not your concern. This is my space. ~Now, goodnight~.”

She forcefully shut the door, her entire form pressing against it as she exhaled deeply. The stress drained from her shoulders as her body eased and she smacked her lips together. She strolled past him, not sparing him a glance, and made her way to the other side of her room.

“I think he was onto something.”

“About what? This being his damn business? Because it’s not. I can handle you on my own.” she queried, her body angling towards him.

“I was referring to the hunter.”

There was a moment of silence and he could see her mind working. Alex ~had~ mentioned that Maya wasn’t exactly a fan of that theory. He wanted to agree with her, but he found that he couldn’t.

“What makes you think that?”

He shrugged in response before slapping his hand against the back of his neck. “I—everything was hazy. I mostly recall his voice… his smell… but… there was something off about him. I’m certain he’s the one I picked up on in the forest.”

"So… what? Some werewolf hunter is out there, targeting you? Why you? Why now? It's been decades… what's so unique that he's after you? And why didn't you die?"

“~I don’t know.” ~His words came out more harshly than he intended, the final syllable leaving a trail of saliva dripping from his chin.

He wished he had the answers, he really fucking wished he did.

Was that what had happened? His entire pack was slaughtered by a damn hunter? They all died because of him…? ~Something doesn’t feel right.~ Something wasn’t adding up. “I don’t think it’s a recent memory,” he admitted, lowering his head so it hung between his arms. His fingers clenched, brushing against the bare skin of his thighs.

“Why not?”

“The words—he seemed to be talking about my parents… but… I don’t know.” He swiftly lifted his torso before punching the cot. “He was—I don’t even know if I can trust my own—damn it. He spoke to me like I was a child.”

Even if he didn’t know his actual age, he knew he wasn’t a damn child. It—maybe… could he have encountered him before? It didn’t seem like he was going to let him leave unscathed—so how else could he have survived?

Julian rose to his feet, heading towards the nearest wall. He banged his forehead against it a few times, feeling the thumping reverberate in his skull. His breaths were rapid as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop his mind from spinning.

His muscles were trembling, twitchy, as his heart pounded in his chest. Each heartbeat was painful, pushing his blood a little faster than the previous beat. There was something, right there, waiting to be discovered but he couldn’t piece it together.

It was like he had entered a room and forgotten why he was there in the first place.

No matter how hard he racked his brain, he came up empty.

Julian’s fist collided with the wall, his knuckles breaking through it. He felt the pain as wooden shards embedded in his skin, blood seeping between his fingers. ~Great~. Even pain was futile at this point.

“Okay, how about we cool down instead of wrecking ~my~ room? I have to live here, remember. And believe me,” she said, twirling her index finger in the air. “None of this stuff is soundproof enough for me to want to be punching holes in the walls. I don’t need to hear more than I already do.”

She stooped down, picking up a half-empty water bottle from her nightstand. "Now drink this, calm down… and we'll—we'll look into this in the morning. I'm cranky, annoyed, exhausted, and half-asleep, and I don't feel like dealing with this crap right now."

He withdrew his hand from the wall, wooden fragments falling to the floor, and reached for the water bottle. He was drenched in sweat, his skin sticky and unpleasant. However, he doubted ~she~ would consent to him taking a shower.

Not when he had everyone on edge.

Not when he had touched her—in a way he didn’t want to touch her.

He felt like a jerk. A damn ~jerk~.

When she had screamed his name, he had felt like his life was hanging by a thread.

“For the record?” she said as she flopped back onto her bed.

“Yeah?”

“You’re in my debt. When you least see it coming, I’m going to kick your butt, and you’re going to take it like a champ.”

He responded with a smirk and a nod. “Understood, boss.”

Deep down, he didn’t question her ability to ~kick~ his butt and give him a tough competition. And if he was being brutally honest? It was somewhat appealing.

Indeed. This guy… he was a bit twisted.

He reclined again on his makeshift bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sleep was a far-fetched idea tonight. Not after that horrifying flashback. He couldn’t afford to lose his grip again.

What other secrets were lurking in the corners of his mind?