Tired of the same formula used in the werewolf books here on Wattpad?
Look no further!
Ettore is written with a fresh, new concept and will NOT involve typical cliches such as:
- A possessive Alpha with a black-furred wolf
- A pushover female lead...
VINDICATIO'S blood-covered hands trembled at the sight of his mother's motionless body. He might've thought about it, but he didn't think about how it would feel to actually have her dead in front of him. He quickly moved over to her body shoving Evanora aside as he took her head into his lap. His bloodied hands matting her golden tresses, staining the soft skin of her face.
His body began to shake with an emotion he had never felt before: remorse. It pummeled him, dragging his conscience mercilessly, it was an unforgiving and strong force. He felt thumb pads brush under his eyes, his dark eyes met with Evanora's. His face hardened, quickly blinking his eyes to hold back any more of those stupid tears.
"It's okay to cry, Vindicatio," Evanora stated softly. "It's not a weakness. It shows that you at least feel something. I don't think she would've shed a tear if roles had been reversed."
"I hate this feeling," he sighed. "It's an ache. Dull, but present enough that it's annoying."
"I suppose with your mother's passing it opened up more of your emotions and your conscience," she said more to herself but it was loud enough for everyone else to hear. Vindicatio gripped onto his mother's soft hair a little tighter, he remembered he used to -- Ettore used to -- grip onto his mother's hair whenever he was scared; the softness and the smell of lavender shampoo brought him comfort. He immediately released his grip, he didn't want his kind of comfort.
"I need to find Syretia," he finally said, sliding his mother's body from his lap, it was already beginning to stiffen from the rigor mortis, and Vincenzo's body wasn't fairing much better. It was like he was a plank of wood or a steel rod. Vindicatio stood up, his hand instantly going to his stomach, the wound had begun to heal but it still hurt like a bitch. He walked over to the far window and tore the extravagant curtain from its golden hanger. He tossed the luxurious, burgundy material around himself like a makeshift toga. He ripped down the other side and proceeded to tear that one in half, giving each to Odessa and Talise who did the same that he had.
They left the secret room the same way they had entered it, through the narrow, cobweb-infested passageway to the throne room.
"Wait! Vindicatio!" He turned around to see Evanora running through the passageway, a set of golden crowns encrusted with black stones and diamonds in her hands. She held onto the Queen's as she passed Vindicatio the King's.
Vindicatio stared at the crown in his hands, it was heavier than he expected it to be.
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