letting drilla go was the single hardest thing he ever had to do in his entire miserable existence. and yet, it was the only thing he could do because trying desperately to get him to stay was selfish all the same, inconsiderate of the other wolf's feelings. feelings he now had access to, part of him like the air he breathed. like drilla's blood in his system. connected to a molecular level forever. and forever alone.
watching him leave felt like a part of him was getting ripped out from his insides: entrails spilling on the floor, with their bonds, with his love. the more distance drilla placed between them, the worse the pain got. the bigger the divide, the more daunting the silence, the more gabe felt himself slipping into his broken mind, assaulted by the guilt, shame, and paranoia, attacked by the isolation he forced on himself, from the pack, from david, from drilla... it was necessary. he couldn't possibly show his face. he couldn't fix it. what was left of him was a bundle of uncovered nerves spiralling into a haunting madness. longing sticking to every inch of his insides and filling him up like grease, making him nauseous and violent.
everything drilla felt slithering under his skin. cursing him. riddling him with a maddening desire for connection he was never to seal. he was tired when drilla was. he woke when drilla did. he dreamed what the other wolf dreamed of. he was hungry when the other ate, tasting distant echoes of whatever he was eating and craving it all the same. stomach churning, body tensing and torturing every time drilla had to sate other appetites. a desire never disappearing, no matter what he did to try and sate it. a hunger lying in the underbelly, forever breaking him for drilla's blood, body and soul. sleep wasn't restful. food wasn't enough to fill the gap. blood didn't sate him anymore, cursed to waste without his mate's. and it didn't matter. he deserved it.
when david showed up, tearing him apart, he barely registered. lingering in the sweet idea of lashing against his alpha. would that have got him kicked out, broken off his pack? cast away forever? would that free him of his curse? he didn't, though. head down, eyes on the floor, he nodded like a subdued puppy, unable to break away from his devotion to his leader. unable to hurt him too, and be so selfish once again. yet unable to speak back, for once, unable to say anything that isn't "I can't fix this", instead, he nods, buying himself some time. maybe, that is selfish too, playing with david's time and patience. he doesn't have much of a choice otherwise.
one night like many that came before, he was enlaved under drilla's invisible spell. he was fucking someone, and gabe dripped of every last drop of that same desire and desperation. the same unbearable need. it wasn't for him. it wasn't him, the one drilla was fucking, and he still couldn't rid himself of it, cursed to hump anything like a dog in heat. fucking his hand or grinding against the mattress, teeth sunk in a pillow, or in his own forearm, did not much matter; pleasure never coming, only growing until he couldn't breathe, until he could take no more, until tears scarred his face, and over, because drilla wasn't done. and even though he had accepted his fate, the sharp slash of sudden danger pulled him out of that fever dream instantly. about as quickly as it did drilla.
and then came his fear, and gabe's heart shattered. he couldn't think clearly. adrenaline took over, catching onto him so quickly he couldn't control his wolf, and the animal ripped out from under his skin just as fast, instinct taking over, senses driving him. his only priority was his mate. save him. he is in danger. take him. mine. mine. mine. rules be damned, unimportant human conciousness with it. gabe howled, a cry to the moon goddess, a cry to everything holy to let him get there on time. and then he was on the move.
he ran like a wild animal, little caring about being seen or how the rules applied in the city. it didn't matter. not as much as feeling drilla's pain spreading. invisible hands torturing him. when he got to his place, driven more by the bond than by memory, he was rabid. a human was left guarding the building entrance: a hunter, gabe could smell the silver on him and didn't care to think twice about ripping him apart. no space for second chances. moving at impressive speed, there was nothing the human could do. they did right being stared by his kind because he dug his claws in his abdomen and slashed him open like he was unwrapping a present with surprising ease, deaf to his wailing, actually savouring it, jaw locking around his neck, squeezing, gnawing, mauling rabidly until his spine broke and his head ripped off. after that, gabe ran into the building taking down doors with ease, let alone anyone who stood in his way.
he knew he was close, now. so close he could smell drilla's blood. hear his laboured breathing. feel it other than on the inside. close. so close. silver coat was now smeared in blood, crazed neon blue eyes locking on his prey. he didn't give them time to register. no time to hurt drilla further. their surprise was all he needed. there were only two of them in the room, a man and the woman drilla fucked. bloody stupid to underestimate their power. bloody stupid for them to assume drilla was alone. gabe rammed into the man, sending him flying against a wall. no time for pleasantries: he snapped his neck like a stick before turning to the woman, now standing on two legs, tall and dangerous, looking like a monster if ever his kind was to be defined as one.
he snarled dangerously, watching the way she held drilla, pressing a silver blade to his neck. he was bound to a chair, with superficial cuts all over him, some bruises, some burn marks and a whole lot of blood. my heart, he thought for a moment, gaze softening. it lasted only a moment because when he looked back at her, his gaze was murderous. she smiled dangerously, showing a flash of silver sharp grillz. "I wouldn't take another step if I were you." gabe assessed the situation; she wasn't going to kill drilla, not yet. she needed him alive if she wanted a chance to survive that situation. gabe didn't move, but he barked at her, showing sharp, bloodied teeth. maybe he could distract her enough for drilla to catch his breath and try to break his ties. "tell your boy." she poked drilla under the chin with the blade, making his head bend, skin searing against the silver. gabe grew restless, and she smiled even more dangerously, as if she liked to see it. "tell him that I ain't playing." her hand dragged across drilla's jaw, disturbing gabe much more than the knife to his throat. he gurned, tongue showing, ears drawn back, claws sinking in the hard floors. mine. mine. he thought again, eyes dragging to drilla. fear fighting with his thirst for violence, with his need to protect him.
then, gabe halted and, against all odds, he moved but to take a step back. and then another. and then he turned, the man forcing the wolf to listen. certainly, that was a distraction enough. certainly, she would have been stupid enough to think she could best him if he were turned and distracted. please, make it work. he was willing to be stabbed again if that could give drilla a chance. perhaps solve all their problems.
