Grief - darkness of the soul

Third Person POV
Peter walks to the pack-house uncaring of the blood that still stains his body, very little is his; a little on his hip and thigh from where a rogue raked their claws; a little on his back and one ankle from rogue jaws. He is an Alpha and his flesh has already reknitted, none of the wounds were deep, unlike the wound to his heart and soul.

He reaches the front steps, and he doesn’t know what to do, where to go. He wants to go home, to surround himself in her scent and never leave; Braon wants out to kill, to paint the world red with his pain. But Peter is an Alpha, duty and pack before himself, but it is so hard.

Barlas emerges from the building at a jog. He is dreading having to tell his new mate that her mother is gone, she is still so fragile. However, he needs to keep his Alpha moving, the man before him looks… broken… but he empathizes, remembering how he felt when it looked like Sam might not survive.

‘Barlas,’ Peter nods in acknowledgement.

‘Alpha,’ Barlas responds. ‘The prisoners are in the cells, our wounded are in the hospital,’ he pauses a moment, then continues, ‘Sonia is about to go into surgery’

Peter looks pained, there is no guarantee his childhood friend will survive, but he can’t bring himself to care, his Luna is his heart, while he is the strength. He runs a hand through his hair.

‘Shit,’ he says finally. ‘I am going to have to tell her daughter, what the hell do I tell her?’

‘Don’t worry I will tell Sam,’ Barlas reassures him.

‘No, her other daughter, Jo. She is going to kill me,’ then he thinks. Hopefully. Still that pleasure is going to have to wait for later, he needs to question the prisoners, and see the wounded and bereaved.

Fuck it, he thinks, prisoners first, Braon demands more blood, and if he doesn’t give it to him then, he might not have a chance to track down who is responsible before he loses it and goes feral. For Emma… he wants to avenge her before he joins her.
…
The section of the dungeons the rogue prisoners are in is far more traditional than where the familiar had been kept.

The area is cold, a chill has settled so far into the stones that they radiate it, stealing the heat and slowing those interned here. The cells are cages made of silver, each one a visible faraday cage preventing succour from the outside. A thin mattress and a covered bucket provide the only comforts. At the far end of the area a hose sits, providing cold water to wash down the cells, the prisoners, and the alcove next to it.

The entire area is imbued with enough silver to disrupt communication even if a prisoner escapes, and there is extra round the alcove. An area which smells of blood, bile and excrement, pain and death have soaked the floors for generations giving it an aura of hell. Even the pack wolves avoid the alcove if they can, cleaning there is a punishment, and it hasn’t been used in over twenty years. Today Peter intends to resurrect it.
…
Peter walks into the depths of the dungeon and points at a rogue, a pathetic look man, skinny and scarred. The two enforcers accompanying him open the cell and drag him back to the alcove, where he is attached to a frame by his wrists and ankles. A frame which can be moved and rotated, allowing easy access to any part of the man that his interrogator desires. The cuffs are silver alloy, ensuring a constant burning pain in the man’s extremities.

‘Name?’ one of the enforcers asks the prisoner.

‘D-darius,’ he stutters. The other enforcer picks up a pen and writes his name in a large leather journal.

Peter strides forwards and sniffs deeply in Darius’ face, his eyes flash from blue to violet to red then back to violet. Darius can feel piss trickling down his leg, the man before him is more wolf than man, he can feel the Alpha’s rage flowing from him, his sanity is questionable if the red pupils are anything to go by. Darius has looked into the eyes of his death and prays to the Goddess that it will be quick.

‘J-just tell me what you want to know,’ Darius whimpers. ‘And a m-merciful death.’

Peter’s eyes have turned black, like an eclipse. ‘Merciful, merciful, I am not sure I understand that… were you merciful when you attacked Newton… were you merciful when you abused Sonia… were you merciful when you took my Luna.’

Darius wants to say he didn’t do any of those things, but he knows if they happened then he is guilty by association. He prays to the Goddess, but then his mind is emptied as pain engulfs him and he screams.
…
Peter has just finished questioning the third rogue, an enforcer takes down the corpse to add to the pile in the corner. The sight of the bodies and the mess he has made of them part of the torture.

The other enforcer drags in number four to replace him.

‘Peter,’ a feminine voice calls… Felicia. She picks her way through the cell block, stepping over rivulets of blood flowing from the alcove, her eyes avoiding the splatter and chunks of werewolf that are littering the entire area.

‘Peter,’ she repeats.

‘What is it Fel?’ he sighs in response. ‘Can’t you see I am busy?’

‘Playing with prisoners is not busy, being in an area where no one can link you while you exercise your bloodlust is not busy. Stop being a selfish arsehole, get a shower and get to the hospital… Sonia wants to see you.’

He moves quickly, pinning his sister against a wall, his eyes flashing red again. There was a reason she came down here. They all agreed he is least likely to hurt her, but it is not guaranteed, they are not sure how far gone he is. She tightens her grip on the sedative injection she has in her pocket, praying that she won’t have to use it. As he did with the rogues he inhales her scent, her heart racing. Then he lets go, his eyes going back to blue for the first time in many hours.

He staggers a little, exhaustion hitting him as he lets go of his rage temporarily.

‘Sonia survived?’ he asks his sister.

‘Yes,’ Fel says. ‘Either that or a fucking corpse wants a word with you.’

‘You might want to step back,’ he says to her. So, she retreats to the doorway to this section, and watches her brother get hosed down by the enforcers. The icy water bringing goosebumps up all over his body, his skin going pale as blood rushes to his core to try to prevent hypothermia.

It takes nearly 10minutes to rid his clothes and body of blood and gore, he just turns in the jet of water until he is clean, then strides past his sister on the way to the exit.

‘You could have taken a hot shower, you idiot’ she berates him.

‘No, I really don’t think I could.’ His eyes are almost black again.

She can feel his pain, and it is deep and dark. She has no words.
…
On his walk to the hospital, he doesn’t come across any other wolves. Those who might have crossed his path find themselves giving him a wide berth, no one wants to approach an Alpha on the edge. Even in the hospital the corridors he walks are nearly empty, just medical staff rushing from one place to another, desperate not to catch his eye.

He allows Felicia to lead the way, when he realises, he does know where in the hospital Sonia is. Finally, they are at the door to the HDU, High Dependency Unit. Felicia turns to him.

‘Peter, promise me you will hold it together in there… none of those wolves came out unscarred… Percy is in there too, but they are having to keep him sedated because of Dave… Warren has lost a leg… and well Sonia you know about’

Peter nods and pushes open the door.

The four-bed ward is quiet except for the beep of machines and the steady breathing of the occupants. A nurse looks up from the desk, her eyes narrow, annoyed at the visitor, dressed just in joggers, who has walked into her ward.

‘Excuse me, can I help you?’ she asks sternly, ready to defend her charges from any drama this interloper may bring.

Emma will like her was his first thought, then he remembers and his eyes cloud again.

‘I am here to see Commander Sonia Storm.’ He says through gritted teeth. ‘I am Alpha Peter Bilavoda’

‘Oh Alpha, so sorry, let me check if the commander is up to a visitor.’ She turns to the cubicle on the top left when the air is rent by a scream from the one opposite.

They both turn and Jerf is there, thrashing and screaming. ‘I am coming, my Luna, I am coming.’

Peter walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, he thinks that this is probably the blood bond taking Jerf to the moon and his love. He is envious, but also sad for the man.

‘Hush Jerf,’ he mutters, trying to soothe the thrashing man. ‘She is gone, but I felt no pain, be peaceful my friend.’

‘What do you mean no pain…’ Jerf yells in his face. ‘I can feel her, I can feel her pain… it hurts… why does he do this to her?’

Jerf stiffens then relaxes as the nurse tranquilises him. Peter rocks back… could she be alive… Jerf said she is in pain… not was in pain...

He starts to howl, then slumps forward across Jerf’s bed. Felicia is revealed, used injection in hand.