I Should Feel Something

I Should Feel Something
Raven

Blood always dries faster on cold concrete.
I don’t know why that’s the first thing I notice.
Not the smell.
Not the body.
Not the fact that the woman cooling on the floor is the mother I haven’t seen since I was drugged and dragged away.
No.
Just the way the blood pools, soaking into the seams of the tile before it cools into something dark and brittle.
Cyrus’s presence presses against my back like heat off a forge. His breathing is steady. Fierce. Protective.
My mother lies with her eyes open.
I should feel something.
Relief, maybe.
Satisfaction.
Vindication.
And at first, when my finger pulled the trigger, I thought I did.
A quick, slicing rightness.
A justice long overdue.
She let me go.
She stood behind my father as he sold me to the ring to be experimented on.
She watched it happen.
She let it happen.
She could have fought for me and never lifted a finger.
So when Stevens dragged her into that basement as his pathetic shield, offering her like a bargaining chip, all I felt was:
You don’t get to be used against me.
Not him.
Not her.
Not anymore.
The bullet flew.
Straight.
Unhesitating.
A clean exit wound.
And for a heartbeat, I felt the satisfaction I expected.
But now?
Now, staring at her empty eyes, the satisfaction sours into something strange and unwelcome in my throat.
It’s not grief.
It’s not regret.
It’s just… emptiness.
A hollow space where something used to be.
Something fragile I didn’t realize I’d been dragging around.
A wish, maybe.
A childish, desperate hope that she might have cared.
That maybe there was a reason she never came for me.
Maybe she was helpless.
Maybe she was trapped.
Maybe —
The bond tightens like a warm hand around my throat.
Fireball.
Cyrus’s voice slides through my skull, low and grounding.
Don’t lie to yourself.
I swallow.
She knew, Cyrus says. No softness. No hesitation.
She watched it happen. She let it happen.
“You didn’t kill your mother today,” he says. “You killed the woman who watched you be taken and chose to keep breathing anyway.”
My throat closes.
My father’s death was sweet.
I took him apart piece by piece in the dungeon, Cyrus beside me, our wolves high on vengeance. I remember the feeling—pure, ruthless justice. The closure of a wound that had bled for too long.
But this?
This is different.
I crouch beside her and brush a thumb over the dried tear track on her cheek — because she had cried when she saw me.
Not for remorse.
Not for love.
For fear.
Fear of Stevens.
Fear of Thane.
Fear of me.
“She cried,” I whisper.
I let out a slow breath that feels like it’s been stuck in my ribs.
Maybe I thought killing her would end something.
But all it did was make space for the truth:
She was never a mother to begin with.
The bond hums quietly — Cyrus pushing steady calm into my veins. Not trying to fix me. Not trying to talk me out of the storm.
Just staying.
Just being here.
Just reminding me that I survived her.
I straighten slowly and wipe my hand on my thigh. Thane’s aura pulses down through the concrete.
Cyrus kisses the top of my head, quick and hard. “Come on, Fireball. We’ve still got the piece of shit who sold you. Who thought you were his property.”
I give my mother one last look. Not a goodbye. Not forgiveness.
Just acknowledgment.
Then I stand.
Thane’s voice drops, low and lethal.
“Your reign ends here, Stevens.”
Stevens tries to stand, but his leg buckles. He scrambles backward on his hands, heel skidding in blood.
“You—you don’t get to walk in here and—”
“You sold wolves,” Thane cuts in, voice ringing with something ancient. “You trafficked them. Experimented on them. Broke them. You ruined my family, and you will never harm another soul again.”
Stevens bares his teeth.
“You think you can take my pack? My land? I built this—”
“No,” Thane says calmly, “you infected it.”
The air sharpens.
And Stevens lunges.
His shift hits mid-air—bones snapping, tawny fur exploding across skin, muzzle stretching into a long, snarling snout. He comes at Thane fully shifted, jaws wide enough to take out a throat.
Thane doesn’t move.
He lets the wolf hit the full wall of his aura.
It’s like watching an invisible hand grab Stevens and hold him in place. His claws scrape sparks against the floor. His body convulses hard, pinned by a force no Alpha in this territory has ever felt.
Cyrus huffs out a low whistle beside me.
“Getting off to a good start.”
My pulse spikes—violence, satisfaction, and the dark pleasure of watching the man who orchestrated my enslavement drown in the dominance he always pretended to have.
Thane steps forward slowly, deliberately, aura thickening until Stevens’ wolf form can barely breathe.
Then Thane crouches and, with one hand, wraps his fingers around the beast’s throat.
Stevens thrashes—claws swipe, teeth snap—but none of it reaches flesh. Aura holds him like a vise.
Thane tightens his grip.
Stevens’ whines shift from fury to panic. His hind legs kick uselessly. His eyes roll white. Thane’s aura spikes again—this time pressing down so hard the wolf’s spine bows.
Then—
A final, muffled choke.
And Stevens goes limp.
Not dead.
Not yet.
Just conquered.
Thane rises, still holding the unconscious wolf by the scruff, as if it weighs nothing.
Cyrus grins at me. “I am so fucking glad he took that title.”
I am too busy watching Thane drag Stevens’ twitching wolf body up the stairs, step by heavy step, to answer. Cyrus rests a hand on my lower back and nudges me to follow.
When we reach the courtyard, the full pack is already on their knees.
Some bleeding.
Some shaking.
All terrified.
Thane drops Stevens in the center like trash.
Then he raises his voice—not shouting, but it hits like thunder.
“This territory is mine now.”
A ripple spreads through the wolves—fear, submission, disbelief.
“I am Alpha of Alphas. You will heel to my rule or join your Alpha in the ground.”
The aura pulses outward. Wolves whine. Backs bow. A few collapse entirely.
Cyrus leans in and mutters, “I knew he’d act like a king.”
I elbow him, eyes locked on Thane.
He isn’t done.
“Every wolf tied to the trafficking ring, the experiments, or the cover-ups…”
He lets that hang.
Stevens twitches at his feet.
“…will meet his fate.”
A collective shudder rolls through the crowd.
Thane lifts his chin slightly.
“Bring me his mate.”
Two guards drag her out moments later—Stevens’ wife. Hair wild, breath ragged, no shoes.
She sees Stevens’ limp wolf form and screams.
“Please—please, I didn’t know—Thane—Alpha—please!”
He stares at her like she’s already dead.
“Did you know?”
She shakes her head frantically. “No—I swear—I would never—”
“Liar!” someone yells from the crowd.
“She kept the books—!”
“She helped him!”
More voices pile on, one after another, snapping the last fibers of her denial.
She collapses to her knees. “Please—please, mercy—”
Thane doesn’t blink.
He turns slightly.
And his eyes land on me.
My stomach goes still.
He doesn’t speak through the bond.
He doesn’t need to.
Cyrus brushes his fingers against my arm.
“You don’t owe her softness,” he murmurs.
I step forward.
Her eyes widen when she sees me.
Recognition.
Fear.
And the sick, dawning realization that she played a part in selling the wrong girl.
“No—no—please—”
I draw my gun.
Level it.
Breathe out.
The shot cracks across the courtyard.
She drops backward into the snow, blood blooming like ruined silk around her head.
Silence follows.
Thane watches me for a heartbeat—something sharp, approving, respectful passing between us—then lifts his eyes to the pack again.
“This pack is under my control until further notice. Anyone resisting will be dealt with.”
He gestures. “Search the compound. Every room. Every tunnel. Every hidden space. Bring me anything connected to the ring.”
Guards scatter.
Wolves tremble.
Stevens lies unconscious at Thane’s feet.
Cyrus slides his arm around my waist, tugging me against him, the bond humming with pride and violence and the kind of twisted devotion only we understand.
Thane’s eyes glaze slightly.
A mind-link.
His jaw tightens.
“Report.”
Theo’s voice echoes faintly over the pack link.
No sign of him. We checked every room. Every bunker. Every crawlspace. Eric is not on the grounds.
Cold drops into my stomach like a stone.
Cyrus growls low, teeth bared. “Good. Means we get to hunt.”
Thane’s gaze sharpens.
He doesn’t look at me, but I feel the warning ripple through the air.
This isn’t over.