The eye of the storm brought with it a darkness that swallowed him whole in a ravenous rage. The anger pulsated through his veins, fuelling his adrenaline, compelling him to roar into the night with all the power of the dragons inside his heart. Tonight was the night widows would be bled dry by the scream of banshees, the werewolves thirsting for blood would devour their own and only evil may reign supreme. Tonight was the night he found his hunger...
He never thought that his anger would turn on him. His fist had made contact with her, and brought her soul to the surface. She knew what she had been through, and he knew what he had done to her over and over again. She would not take anymore, and took careful aim. He wouldn't make a move, fury dancing like flames in her eyes. He tried to reason with her, but no noise escaped his lips.
He stared at her, the metal shining in her hand. She wouldn't kill him. He was her only apostle. He panicked, and thought the worst. The silver bullet would become a deep red. He as her love, she wouldn't take it from herself… would she?
She would.