The hopeless despair Russel had felt before gave way under a raging torrent of anger. Blind, all-consuming fury.

“Shut…,” he said with a gasp. “Your…Fucking…Mouth!”

With a roar of challenge, he got off the ground and lunged straight at Carter like an arrow loosed from a bow. Carter was strong, and much faster, but the sudden explosive movement caught him off guard. He wasn’t expecting that.

Russel knew his moment had come when he saw his father’s eyes widen, ever-so-slightly, with shock.

This is it, he told himself, trying to spur his exhausted body into giving more even though there was nothing left to give.

Russel slammed into the king’s body and he latched on like some kind of monkey, refusing to let go. He buried his claws in as far as he could and then clamped his fangs down on his father’s shoulder and neck area. Hot, metallic blood flew into his mouth and he gulped it down like a man dying of thirst at an oasis. The blood contained a sort of power. It gave him strength. He bit down even harder and felt more of it slide down his throat.

Carter stumbled back, reeling from the sheer ferocity of Russel’s attack. It was unexpected. It was…unusual.

Yes. That’s the right word for it.

Russel, Carter had known since the boy was just a small pup, would never have the stomach for being a werewolf. He was too weak. Too…human. Despite the fact that he was a pure wolf, the boy lacked the taste for the hunt. He’d never wasted any opportunity to throw his heritage of being a werewolf right back into his face. He’d done it over and over again. Despite Carter beating the boy senseless every time he did. Despite the cruel punishments which included the beatings yes, but also the execution of the boy’s mother right in front of his face. Despite all the times he locked him in a steel box and left him there for days on end.

Despite all of that, Russel had still fought against him. And against his own nature. He refused to hunt sentient creatures, which included, much to Carter’s disgust, humans. He even refused to treat the servants like the lowborn, filthy scum they were.

Although the boy did take to his lessons in fighting, he never used what he learned all that much. His other boys took their knowledge and applied it to ruthlessly hurt anyone else around them, as expected.

This version of Russel, this berserker, lost to nothing but rage, was not a side of his son he had ever seen. Even when he had done his absolute worst to him, he had never gotten this kind of reaction before. Killing his mother in front of him was probably the only other time that came close but even then, the boy had been young and too much of a scared whelp to do anything about it.

This woman had inspired this level of anger in him?

Why?

“Don’t you…ever…talk…about…her…again!”

Russel shouted these words in a deafening blast and punctuated each one with a savage blow of his claws. When he was done, he kicked off with his legs, did a somersault in midair, and landed on his feet. The fire in his eyes was growing brighter and brighter and Carter had time to realize his son was giving in and letting the wolf take control.

Finally! he thought to himself with a short moment of glee. Finally, he embraces the wolf.

Then, Russel was coming at him again, all speed and ferocity. His arms were a blur of movement, barely seen. He took cuts and slashes to his arms, chest, stomach, and even his thighs. He was able to block a couple of them but the rest split open his flesh and caused a searing pain to light up inside his body.

Russel didn’t stop. He felt himself losing control and felt the wolf inside him surging up, roaring to take over the whole situation.

And, for the first time in his life, he welcomed it.