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Isn’t that a good thing? she was on the verge of asking, when he said Ariella was going to release the wolves. The words were on her tongue, ready to be breathed into existence when he continued. She could feel the blood draining from her face when he continued, her fingertips felt cold. For a moment, even Gia Desstrin was lost for words. It had hardly faded from Gia’s mind that she had once been one of those wolves, she had shared the addiction with them, the thrill, the lust. She’d been spared the worse ramifications - being held by vamps and subject to whatever horrors they might choose to inflict. Gia had escaped that, but Everett had not. Gia knew that sacrifice had weighed on his conscience since the very day he’d turned them over and she could see that reflected back tenfold now. Gia’s throat felt dry, dry and raw. Swallowing was like breathing in sand. “Oh, Everett,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” She’d been such a fool. All those years ago, she could have spared everyone a little pain through the rest of their lives, if she’d just swallowed a little then. But she’d been weak instead, they’d all been weak, save Everett. If there was anything she wished she could take back, it was that. Clearing her throat, she shook her head, trying to process everything he was telling her. She couldn’t look at him when she asked the next question. “Any wolf?” Hesitantly, she met his eye, again. She had to know how far this went, if Everett might be forced to kill Tristan or herself, or if it was those who had succumbed to the V all those years ago, poor devils. Gia could picture each of their faces and wondered how she’d been snatched from their terrible fate. Gia let out a long breath before turning to him, cupping his face in her hands, she tilted her forehead to touch his. His skin was soft, his breath warm. His face was a mask of misery and Gia felt as if there were hands wrapped around her delicate throat, strangling the air from her lungs to see him suffering. “I know it can’t feel like it,” she whispered. “But what you’ve done is a mercy.” She pulled back slightly to brush the hair from his face. “God only knows what the vampires would do. Now it’s their choice to live and to breathe free air. I imagine they’d agree it’s worth the risk.” She pressed a tender kiss to his poor creased brow. “Everett, listen to me. You’ve do e better than stand up to some ancient vampire queen, you’ve stood up for us. What Pack could possibly ask more?”
Aftermath || Gia & Everett (closed)
He let out a breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head into her hand. It was scary how comfortable she made him feel. He’d been all but ready to surrender his role as packmaster, but seeing her and the way she so fiercely believed in him - like he did in her - made him pause. He knew he was a good leader most of the time; but the decision he’d been forced to make… It wasn’t easy.
"Let’s go sit down, babe," he said, his deep voice low as he spoke. He combed his fingers through her long, brown, silky hair. He let her hand him the drink she’d made before they walked over and sat down. He let out a long breath before taking a sip off of the drink she’d made him. It was nice and strong, just like he needed it. Gia always knew exactly how to take care of him.
"She told me that she was gonna release those wolves," he told her, looking over at her. When he’d first become packmaster, Ariella had come to him and said that the vampire community was volatile towards the pack; and to appease the angered crowds, she asked for the three wolves that Everett had abjured for choosing to continue using instead of get clean. Everett had sworn to himself when he became packmaster that he would always choose pack. And even though he’d grown up with those three wolves; they were no longer part of the pack. And in order to protect the pack, he’d agreed that she could have them.
"But she…" he looked over at Gia; knowing this next part would hit home, "She said she tried to get them to relapse and they didn’t. So she got the vampire community to agree to let them go… On my word that I would kill any who relapsed.” Guilt and self-loathing washed over him. His whole frame seemed to collapse from the burden of this. His head dropped, and he shook his head. “All I could think was that I’d rather do it myself and know they didn’t suffer than let them be at the hands of vampires who might torture them.”
Everett - a man who’d probably only cried once or twice in his entire life - was close to tears. “What kind of leader agrees to kill his own kind? What will the pack think of me?” he whispered, a hand coming to his face and running down it, “The pack deserves better than me. I… I can’t even stand up to a fucking fanger.”