Deepa smashed a side window to get into her apartment. It was empty and all her and Parker's things were gone, like they had already been declared dead.
"Fuck," Deepa hissed.
She paced the living room, her hands curled into claws as she fought the urge to rip into the wallpaper.
There was nothing. Nothing left to remind her of the life that they had together. Like they hadn't even existed.
Her skin crawled and itched, her body desperate to transform and destroy. The voices in her head were growing louder, urging her to hunt, kill, and maim.
It was only a matter of time before she hurt someone.
Deepa went to the bathroom, pushing on a vent and blindly feeling around the darkness until her hand landed on a familiar hunk of metal.
Deepa pulled it out, a small handgun and a round of silver bullets.
She sat down on the cold tiled floor, the weapon cradled in her lap.
She would take her own life.
But not before murdering the man who turned her into a monster.
Reconnaissance had been Deepa's job before she was assigned to patrol. She was small and unintimidating, so it had been easy for her to sniff out information on potential werewolves.
She started with the bars closest to the one where Parker was killed, silently watching from the shadows for any hint of thefuckers, eating food from dumpsters when her hunger became unbearable.
It was on her seventh night when she finally saw the group. The same blond haired assholes that attacked them in the parking lot.
They were loud and obnoxious, drinking and laughing as they exited a bar, staggering slightly.
Her attention was immediately drawn to their leader. The man who bit her, his deep voice carrying across the car park.
"We should hit up somewhere else," he slurred, running a hand through his pale hair. "This place sucks."
"Yeah," the one who had bitten Parker agreed, his large fingers rapidly texting on his phone. “The place down the road has way thirstier chicks.”
Deepa strode across the asphalt towards them, gun swinging by her side. She wanted to look him in the eyes as she blew his brains out. She wanted to see the shock of recognition on his face. She wanted him to know that Karma had come to collect.
He was too wasted to even notice her until the barrel was pressed against his temple.
"Wha-" he said, the words catching in his throat.
"Time to die, monster," Deepa growled, pressing the gun harder into his skin.
Her finger was wrapped around the trigger, but it refused to move. Instead she felt swallowed by the depth of his blue eyes.
He was captivating.
The world melted away, and all Deepa could think about was the curve of his lips and the softness of his skin. His smell was intoxicating, a sweet aroma mixed with the sharpness of alcohol.
Her heart raced and her skin tingled, a thousand voices screaming in her mind.
He appeared equally perturbed, staring wide eyed at Deepa with his mouth half open.
"You..." he breathed, the words barely audible.
Deepa tried to pull the trigger again but her finger refused to move. Just the thought of his death suddenly felt excruciating. Like someone had plunged a hand into her chest and ripped out her heart.
"What the fuck, dude," the one who bit Parker snapped. "Are you just going to stand there and let her blow your brains out?"
