"I'm a psycho at the bottom of the pack, and you're a warrior built to kill. Isn't it a weird mix?"
He shrugs, a wicked grin plastered to his face.
"I think it's the perfect mix."
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*Completed *
Klepto is a werewolf, an...
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Klepto POV
My body shakes frantically as I jump on another rogue, using my teeth to dig into their neck mercilessly. Blood fills my mouth, I choke but hold my ground, tightening it until I'm latched on like a shark devouring a prized kill. I'm backing down.
The rogue goes still and whimpers as he sags to the ground. I drop him, swallowing the tangy metal flavored blood that assaults my senses.
I used to cringe at the idea of death. It took a lot of persuading on Ezra's part to convince me that my first killing was justified, but now I'm not holding myself back.
My Dad is dead. There will be no mercy today.
My head turns to survey the crowd. The females of our pack fight bravely, and they are unapologetically savage as they tear into the rogues. The rogues are outnumbered, but they're also tough. It's a fair fight.
Bodies litter the ground, dark red liquid seeping into the white snow, making it into a messy, slick foundation.
The cries of the injured fail to surpass the mourning shouts of agony as family members howl to the sky in despair. Some stop the war to mourn their losses, others turn to tackle rogue after rogue.
The sight sickens me, but I don't dare let my guard slip for even a second. I observe my female packmates in battle, but I search for my sisters. When I spot a blonde wolf, I immediately stop where I stand.
Tressandra fights alone, but bravely. She takes on a wolf almost twice her size, but uses her smallness to her advantage as she practically runs circles around the rogue.
Penelope and Tabitha also fight, their blonde wolves working together as they take down a rogue together. As soon as it was dispatched, Penelope seems to sag as she cries out. Her muzzle opens wide as a heartbreaking howl fills the air.
Confusion is followed by concern as I run to her side. I dodge others as they battle on, only to arrive next to my sisters. Tabitha whimpers and whines, and I soon realize why.
Martha lays in her wolf form, blood drenching her side that is torn open. The dark, syrupy substance stains her light fur. Her blue eyes are wide and unseeing into the distance.
She's gone.
A sharp pain needles it's way into my heart as I howl. My Father, now my little sister. Martha was only 14. She had a whole life ahead of her and it's torn away.
I watched her grow up, I had changed her diapers. Here she is, mercilessly killed on the same grounds she was raised on by these evil intruders. Tears blur my eyes and I stumble, trying to regain stable ground.
Sure Martha has bullied me, but she wanted to fit in. What teenager doesn't? She was trying to be like her sisters. I know in my heart as I look down at her that I have already forgiven her.
