Derek stared at her for a long mont, the wind pulling at the edges of his shirt. Kira slowly lifted the teddy bear and sat it on her lap, hugging it as if it would take whatever heaviness that had settled over them away.
Kira eyed him sideways, her fingers tightening around the teddy bear in her lap. She had expected him to brush her off completely, the way he usually did. But he had not. He was waiting.
Derek studied her again, amber eyes narrowing just a fraction. Why this question? Why now, when she had co back from the cottage looking as if the ground had cracked open beneath her feet? He did not like the way this conversation was turning out, or the way she was sounding so serious. But he answered anyway, because sothing in him refused to shut her out tonight.
Kira’s eyes widened and she took a small breath. "That’s a gift I guess."
Kira shifted on the bench, the wood creaking softly under her. "Until what point of your life can you still recall the mories?"
She looked down at the teddy bear, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the teddy bear’s paw. "Because I can’t," she admitted softly. "There are so many gaps. Most of my childhood is just... gone. Whenever I try to think back to when I was small, I hit a wall. It’s like a thick fog that won’t let through."
Derek said nothing for a few seconds. The wind howled like a living thing. He stared out at the dark water, but his mind had already slipped back to his own mories. They never stayed buried for long.
"Each ti I shut my eyes, I am back in that night. I see the bodies. I hear the screaming. I haven’t had a full night of peaceful sleep since that night." He looked at her then, and for a second, the coldness in his eyes was replaced by a burning, vengeful fire. "I swore I would destroy the traitor who led the ambush. I will tear down everything he has built, and I will destroy everyone who belongs to him. That is the only thing that keeps moving."
She realised then why he was always buried in his work, why he stayed up until the early hours of the morning in his study, working as if his life depended on it, and why he seed to have no room in his life for anything but power. It was not just duty. It was an escape.
"That is quite vengeful, isn’t it?" she said softly. Her voice trembled just a little at the edges. "Is your vengeance going to take the bad mories away?"
Sothing clicked in Kira’s mind. The pieces began to slide together too neatly. She thought about the way the Lycans looked at the werewolves, the tension that humd between them and the way Derek spoke about "traitors."
"These traitors you’re talking about," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "By any chance... are you talking about the werewolves?"
"That," he said, his voice snapping like a whip, "is none of your business. I suppose you feel better now. I’m going inside."
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