Chapter 70 THERE'S BLOOD ON THE LEAVES
UNKNOWN'S POV
Alisander doesn’t give Sebastian any time to think.
The moment the rogue lunges from the underbrush again, snarling with blood still slick on its muzzle, Alisander’s voice slams into Sebastian’s head like a whip.
“Now! Eat it!”
Sebastian stumbles back, his heart hammering so hard it hurts.
His hands are shaking, slick with sweat and fear as his eyes grow wide as the rogue starts to circle them.
“But you said it's dangerous to eat it alone.”
“Yes it is. There are some certain side effects but it pretty much beats dying Sebastian!”
“I–I can’t,” Sebastian gasps aloud, clutching the crushed leaves Alisander told him of earlier on. The scent of the herb is sharp and bitter and yet wrong somehow. There was something telling him not to do it.
“This isn’t–this isn’t me.”
“You’ll die if you don’t!” Alisander snaps, the edge in his voice stripped bare. “And I will not let you die, not yet and not now.”
The rogue lunges again.
Sebastian doesn’t remember deciding whether or not he'll take it.
He only remembers the taste of it.
It's bitter and burning, like swallowing fire and soil at the same time.
The effect is instant.
His spine arches violently as something breaks apart inside him, not bones, not flesh, but restraint.
Heat floods his veins in a white-hot searing way that washes away the constant ache of weakness and the ever-present weight of being an omega in him.
Sebastian screams out loud.
But it doesn’t sound human.
His vision sharpens to a brutal clarity and sharpness that makes every leaf too bright and every scent overwhelming for his nose.
Blood, fear and rage consumes him.
The rogue’s heartbeat is suddenly loud in his ears, like a thudding invitation to rip out its heart.
The rogue attacks.
And Sebastian meets it head-on.
He doesn’t dodge or retreat.
He slams right into it.
They crash into the forest floor in a snarl of limbs and fury as Sebastian’s hands close around fur and flesh with an overwhelming strength tearing through him that isn’t his.
Still in his human form, Sebastian bites, claws and rips flesh apart.
The rogue howls once in agony and in pain as Sebastian drives it into the dirt, pummeling it harder with his suddenly powerful fists with his teeth bared and eyes gone wild.
His breath is coming out in harsh, animal pants that's forgotten how to breathe properly.
“Sebastian!” Alisander shouts with fear, threading his voice for the first time ever. “Enough–!”
The rogue goes still beneath him.
Too still.
It's dead.
But Sebastian doesn’t stop.
His fists keep coming down, more and more with each blow fueled by something feral and endless.
After a couple of punches, the rogue’s bone gives in and cracks.
Wet sounds fill the air as blood splashes Sebastian's hands, his arms and his face.
“Sebastian!” Alisander roars inside his head. “It’s dead! Stop–stop, you’re just killing yourself!”
Sebastian doesn’t hear him.
He doesn't even register the fact that what he's doing is considered a crazy phenomenon or the first thing to even happen before.
And Omega fighting against a fully grown rogue is a joke that most wolves would laugh at in the bar as a drunk joke.
But that's what is happening live and direct.
All Sebastian knows is the burning need to destroy, to make sure this rogue never rises up again.
His chest heaves with a thrush of dopamines flooding his system as his lungs start screaming with some of his muscles tearing under the strain.
But the herb won’t let him feel it.
Won’t let him even stop.
So he continues kicking and punching and tearing at the rogue.
He’s screaming again with his voice raw and unrecognizable.
Alisander slams against the bond with everything he has left.
“Come back! Come back to me Sebastian. You’re safe now, you’re alive. It’s all over.”
Something finally cracks or maybe the little handful of herbs he ingested has finally bled out of his system due to his superior werewolf metabolism.
Sebastian’s fist stops mid-air.
The strength drains from him all at once, like blood pouring from an open wound.
His body collapses forward as his hands sink into the ruined ground and his breath begins to hitch violently.
The world snaps back into place and his sense of balance comes back.
The first thing that hits him is the smell.
Blood.
So much blood.
Sebastian looks down and he sees what is left of the Rogue beneath him.
His stomach lurches violently as he looks away quickly and retches in disgust.
After cleaning himself up, he once again looks at the remaining parts and pieces of what's supposed to be the corpse of the Rogue.
“Oh,” he whispers to himself, still in disbelief and shock.
His hands are red.
His arms, and his chest are filled with gashes and claw wounds he got from the Rogue during the fight.
His mouth tastes like iron and earth, he spits it out to see ripped flesh from the Rogue.
The rogue is barely recognizable anymore, torn apart by something savage and merciless.
By him.
A sound tears out of Sebastian’s throat, sounding loud and terrified.
“No,” he gasps, scrambling backward and slipping in blood-soaked leaves. “No–no, I didn’t–!”
His breath comes too fast and too shallow.
He's a little lightheaded as his heart slams like it wants out of his chest.
Alisander reaches for him desperately. “Sebastian–listen to me. You’re not a monster. That wasn’t you–”
Sebastian shakes his head violently, pressing his hands to his ears as if he wants to block the memory.
“I killed it,” he sobs. “I–I liked it–”
The thought alone shatters him.
He screams again, the sound tearing from his throat as he scrambles to his feet.
“I can’t–I can’t be here–”
He turns and runs away barefoot and panicked with his blood stained feet trailing on the forest floor.
Branches whip at his skin causing red welts as he passes by them, roots snag at his feet, giving him gashes but he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t slow down at all.
He runs like prey desperately, like something being hunted by a predator.
He's trying to run from his actions.
Behind him, the forest goes quiet.
And still.
From the shadows between the trees, a figure steps forward.
They take in the scene slowly, the destroyed body, the blood churned into the earth and the unmistakable scent of omega and something else clinging to the air.
A low, amused laugh slips from their throat.
“Well,” the stranger murmurs, the voice rich with cruel delight. “So this is how Ragnar’s little wolf behaves when no one’s watching.”
Their eyes gleam with interest as they fade back into the trees.
And the forest goes back to its haunted hush.