~A weakling.~
~A fucking pathetic excuse for an Alpha~.
Julian was slumped on the floor, his back against the wall, the window just above him. He hadnât managed to stand yet.
His head was spinning, and waves of nausea washed over him whenever he tried to rise.
~It was getting worse, much worse~.
Heâd hoped it would subside after Maya left, that heâd be back to normal by the time she returned. She might not be back yet, but he knew he wouldnât be okay when she did.
Every time Julian made the mistake of closing his eyes, he was bombarded with fragments of memories, pieces of a puzzle he couldnât assemble.
Whatever the scent and sight of the teddy bear had stirred in him, it had also ~shattered him~.
His mind was desperately trying to make sense of it all, to help him understand, but no matter what he did, he couldnât piece himself back together. He couldnât piece together the memories.
Heâd seen many faces, possibly his parents, or members of his pack.
~He didnât know~. He couldnât make sense of them.
The only face that was clear, the only one that made sense, was his sisterâs. ~But he didnât know her name~.
At first, when Maya was there, he hadnât been able to see his sisterâs face. He just ~knew~ what had happened to her.
Now he knew her face.
Sheâd been so young, so incredibly young. Maybe eight years old? He wasnât sure. A young child. And that monster had strangled her to death.
~Heâd done more than that~. He had severed one of her fingers and added it to his gruesome collection.
A memento of his kill.
He'd treated his kid sister like she was some kind of damn trophy.
Then he'd gone and decapitated Julianâs folks.
Every time he saw the skin, he couldnât make out their faces. They were just a blur. But he could see the heads rolling, the sick satisfaction on the bastardâs face as blood splattered him.
It wasnât just about the act of killing. It was about the pleasure he derived from it.
~He was a twisted fuck~.
This was the guy: the beast at their door, the one heâd unwittingly led straight to his ~mate~.
But he hadnât known enough to keep her safe. Because it seemed he had been a spineless alphaâhe had fled. His whole life he had ~fled~. It made sense.
Julian couldnât come up with any other reason why he would have survived while his family hadnât.
~Heâd survived because he was a coward who ran~. He didnât give a damn how young he had been. He should have stayed. He should have fought.
He should have tried to avenge his family. Was there any point in living while they had died?
Maybe some of the flashes of memories were of them together, enjoying good times. He didnât know. He couldnât make it make sense.
But he could tell he had been happy with them. Heâd had a good life.
He had died inside when they had died in front of him. So what had made him keep going? What had made him leave instead of staying with them?
Either defeat the enemy or die with his family?
He had done neither.
And then he had roamed the world, evading the killer but never dealing with him. Why not? Had he tried and failed? And what did that say about him?
Julian brought a hand to his face, covering his mouth, and that was when he felt the tears under his touch. ~He was crying. Again~.
He couldnât stop. Why couldnât he stop? Why couldnât he pull himself together?
~Julian! Julian, come with me!~
His sister. Sheâd had such a soft, gentle voice.
~Julian, come on, please! I wanna play! Mom and Dad said I could if you came with me!~
But then, every time he heard her voice, his mind would fill with the image of her face, the blood, the death. ~The good was overshadowed by the bad~.
He was alone, all alone. Always on his own, always having to fight. He could remember being alone and scared with nothing to do and nowhere to go.
Somehow, he had made it to adulthood, only to be no better than he was then.
~He couldnât let this happen again~.
Julian didnât give a fuck what had held him back in the past, what made him run instead of confronting the problem head-on.
He didnât have these memories weighing him down. Now was the right time to do this.
He could vaguely remember parts of his life, but not enough for it to stop him. This version of him didnât carry the entire burden of death.
He didnât know everything about himself. There wasnât much yet the hunter could use against him.
He didnât know his parents. He had vague memories of his sister. He finally had the upper hand. ~No~, he didnât know everything about the hunter, how he hunted, how he killed.
But it was okay. He couldnât use his past against him, and it was enough for Julian.
There had to be a reason why he was remembering bits and pieces now. Julian hadnât been able to prevent the tragedy that befell his family and pack.
However, he could do something now to try to protect Maya.
The hunter would never stop. That much was clear. It meant for once, he had the chance to right his wrongs.
He could try to stop him and try to save Maya. Or die trying, as he should have a long time ago.
He wasnât stupid. He knew he might not stand a chance. One man who took on another pack? The carnage he left behind?
It wouldnât be easy, it might very well be impossible, but his options were limited.
The more time he gave the hunter, the more he was gaining the upper hand. Julian didnât know Maya so well yet, but he knew she was stubborn.
She wouldnât run from this. She wouldnât run from the danger. So having her leave wasnât an option.
Killing the hunter was the only choice he had left.
Julian wouldnât let history repeat itself.
This time, he would kill that fucker, even if he died in the process.
As long as Maya wasnât the one to die, he could live with the consequences of his choices.
~Yes, this time, Julian would save someone he cared about~.