Kasan’s POV:
A loud gunshot ripped through the air and his head quickly shifted to the side, eyes squeezing close. His heartbeat took off immediately and thumped rapidly inside his chest, his smaller body curling up before mine.
I stood over him with the gun in hand, wide eyes examining the hole beside his head. Firing the gun was an impulsive move triggered by nothing but anger, yet after realizing that I’d truly taken that shot, I can’t understand why a sudden fear sprung into being. Even though it didn’t even graze him, the fact that he could’ve been dead right this moment made my chest feel as if it was being circled by vines over and over again and getting immensely tighter each time I breathed.
If I’d truly shot him like I wanted, his blood would’ve painted the wall crimson, and there would be no life left in his body by now. But that’s what I want isn’t it? He deserves to die, doesn’t he? A traitor like him should die over and over again.
And yet…my hands…why are they suddenly trembling? Why am I feeling so pathetic? As if our positions were reversed?
I glared down at my shaking hand and aggressively grasped it by the wrist, mentally willing it to cease its movements. When my efforts were to no avail, I grinded my teeth and allowed the gun to escape my grasp, falling to the floor with a thud as I began to back away from him.
I was angry, but I wasn’t even able to vent. I wanted to blow his head off, but my hands wouldn’t let me. My frustration was building by the second and my thoughts were piling up so rapidly that my head felt like it was about to explode.
I lifted my fingers to the spot just above my elbows and dug my nails deep into my own flesh, drawing blood. But the pain still did little to calm me.
It’s become quite clear to me now…
I do not wish to see him die, do I? Nor do I wish to be the one who punishes him for what he’d done. If it were anyone else, I would’ve ended their pathetic lives in the most gruesome way possible and without even an ounce of hesitation, but once its him, once it’s my brother…
…everything changes.
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” I backed against the table and flopped down on the edge, my head dropping to my hands. For the next few minutes, aside from my heavy breathing and constant cursing, the room was silent. Kenley didn’t say anything, nor did he move.
“Killing you so soon would be me doing you a favor.” I broke the deafening silence, running my hand over my face. “I’m glad you moved.”
“You…” Kenley spoke, his head tilted to peek at the hole beside him, then back at me. “…were really going to shoot me?” Disbelief was prominent on his face, clearly overriding his fear. “If I hadn’t moved, you would’ve shot me just like that? Kasan?!” His whole face clenched as he screamed my name, eyes opening wide to let free a trickling tear.
I drew back, head lifting properly so I could zoom in on his tears. Am I seeing right? Tears and not sweat?
Of all the years I’d known my brother, I’d never seen him shed a single tear…not once…not even the day mom died and our family split apart. Never.
From what I remember, we’d always been close…even when we were kids. Wherever I went, he’d always be there. Whatever I did, he’d always follow. Whosoever was my enemy, was also his own…and whoever messed with me, also messed with him.
We got into a lot of fights and usually, he was the one who ended up badly hurt. But even if it meant getting beaten to a pulp, he never left my side. Back then, Father always praised me for being ‘perfect’ while condemning Kenley for every little thing he did wrong…. so sometimes, I thought for sure that he was only trying to get father’s attention by copying everything I did and following me around.
But even when I became too violent and father started to favor him instead of me, he still didn’t stop following my lead. So as time passed, my doubts dulled, and I stopped questioning his actions. We grew attached by the hip, you would never see one without the other.
But after what went down the night mom died, we separated. I never reached out to him and I never tried to check how he was doing, because I was certain that he’d blame me for ruining his life, I was certain that he’d call me a monster…just like father.
He soon surprised me when he sought me out first, practically begging to join my pack. Even though, I hated humans with a passion, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy the relationship between him and I…that’s how I ended up with a human in a pack of wolves. But he never once cursed me for what happened, and he never mentioned father unless I asked. Since our reunion was drastically different than what I’d imagined, naturally, I always suspected that his intentions weren’t pure. And I’m sure he noticed that.
So even though we were still head and tail like the old times…we were also distant.
But seeing him shed tears before me now makes a small part of me want to hunt for anything, absolutely anything that would make me rethink everything I’ve believed up until now. This weakness of mine is something that I hate with every fiber of my being, a disease. But where it concerns my mate or my brother, everything unfortunately becomes a weakness.
Why must he show me his tears now? Is it so surprising that I’ve decided not to tolerate his games? Why should I feel guilty? He’s the one in the wrong! He deserves to die, he deserves to rot in hell!
But what if…what if this is all one big misunderstanding?
I clenched my shirt and slowly swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “Tell me what happened from start to finish? I want the truth, nothing but the truth. You killed Father, didn’t you?”
I could see the last of his hopes deplete as soon as I said those words, disappointment dispersing over his face.
He slid down the wall and as he landed on the floor, he dropped his head, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His hand moved fast and violently, as if wanting to peel off his own flesh. And when he re-lifted his head again, his face was devoid of the tears that I’d seen and his eyes were now cold and puffy.
“It’s… your fault…” His voice was low, low enough that even I could hardly make out exactly what he’d said.
“What?”
“It was your fault…” He repeated, this time louder, “…Mother, father…You’re the one who killed them both. Everything that’s happened is your fault. Not mine, not father’s…but yours!”
“How the fuck is it my fault?” I spat, my jaw ticking. “Do you think I have control over what I am or when I shift? It’s father’s fault that mother died, he’s the one who put a fucking bullet through her chest, not me! I’m elated that he’s got what he deserves, my only regret is that I hadn’t been the one to crack his skull.”
He shook his head, looking over at me in anguish. “Do you really not know? Or are you pretending not to? Mother only died because she insisted on protecting you! Now you blame father for what happened? Truth is, father was only protecting himself! You went on a rampage, killing his men and even attempting to kill him. What else did you expect him to do when not even mother could control you?”
Did he just say I went…on a rampage? Me? Not mother?
That night, I might not remember much of what happened after I shifted, but I’m certain I didn’t kill anyone, my paws didn’t touch a soul! I could hardly even move!
Even though I was conscious I couldn’t control my limbs. It was as if I wasn’t in control of my body, or my body was no longer mine. The feeling I felt then is somewhat similar to when my wolf tries to take control. I’m guessing that was what was happening back then.
Perhaps, if my wolf had managed to take over, mother and those men wouldn’t have been the only ones to die that night. Everything that breathed, would’ve all been killed. He would’ve been on a rampage, no one would be left ali—
Huh?….
Rampage?
I’m certain I didn’t kill anyone, but can I say for sure…that my wolf didn’t?
“No…That night…I didn’t…”
“I told you…you went on a fucking rampage and tried to kill us all! Father was hellbent on putting you down, but mother took a bullet for you instead. You’re the one who made him into the person he became…deranged and obsessed with killing off your species. You’re the monster…I can’t agree more.”
My heart thumped faster than I knew possible, hitting my chest rapidly as if wanting to shatter my ribs. I gripped my chest with my fingers, my breathing ragged as I looked down at him.
…What he’s saying…is…