Seymour. The very name sparked such rage under the surface of my skin that I couldn't help but growl at just the thought. A name of a murder and a sadist. He used his daughter to try and get a new life. Almost killed her! Then he shows up years later to kill my father. And now this!? How I garnered the patience to keep from ripping him to shreds on the spot is a mystery even too me.

"Marcus said you were dead!" I yelled at him.

"Of course he did." He said gleefully. "Being caged up two stories under a mansion filled with his werewolf servants would spark that feeling inside him."

My muscles were spasming under my thick skin as I fought for control. Thoughts of pushing his eyes into their sockets and pulling apart his skull flaunted themselves around my head.

"I'll never forget that bastard!" He said, changing his tone to malice. "He ripped my fingernails from my fingers. Broke my jaw twice, and every night came back for more after I'd recovered. But he forgot the company he kept." He said, smiling again. "He forgot how sadistic his lap dog Diego was. It was all too easy to get him to let me loose. And we killed him together."

"Diego." I growled. The wolf that had jumped at me when I was protecting Emily. I should've killed him on the spot!

"As a matter of fact, he should be at your home right now fetching Alan for me." He said thoughtfully.

"The people you've sent are dead, Seymour."

"A minor hiccup, I suppose." He didn't give a damn about those two dead souls. And all the while, Alan was wrought with pain for protecting the others…

I moved forward quickly and dove for him.

He didn't miss a single step as he moved to the side and slammed his fist into the back of my head. Fire burned from his touch and singed the fur that had once protected me from the cold.

"Tisk tisk." He said, delivering a kick to my side.

I flew against the wall of our red glowing cage.

"Patience patience." He said. "I have a good story and I will have it told. Because you deserve to hear it."

I stood up fast, expecting another attack, but it didn't come. He was standing twenty feet away from me as I recuperated, rubbing the back of my head. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it had. His attack was weak in what it did to me, but still… it was enough force to push me into a wall.

"When you left me to die back in Grand Isle, I was so angry with you… but I quickly got over it. And I came up with a fairly brilliant plan, if I do say so myself." His smile was definitely getting under my skin and his enthusiasm was eating away at me. "With all of the sheets and blankets you stirred in during our nights at the camp, I had enough lure to catch myself a werewolf."

"You didn't." I whispered through clenched teeth.

"I stopped through seven cities before I finally got a bite. And she was a definite beauty. Too bad she couldn't smell me from three buildings away. She might've been able to run away before I sniped her off of the local hotel room I was staying at."

He killed, and he didn't care.

"And after choking down pint after pint of her blood, I finally felt the cancer that once hindered me, die away."

"You abandoned your daughter? And killed someone else's?" My words couldn't hold any more disgust.

"It was all for my greater good, Michael." I hated his mentioning of my name. "And once I had my first change, I went demon searching."

"My first demon was a small Indonesian boy, who had the great talent of being able to change his appearance. And I figured that if I could drink the blood of a werewolf, what was stopping me from doing the same for a little added measure? And when I ate him, I found it easier to change from man to wolf. And even easier to change from person to person."

I grimaced at the thought of eaten for someone else's gain. It was all too sickening.

"And after that, my little world opened up to me. It gave me people who could conjure fire, and people who could track others with certain abilities. That's how I found your father."

I was much faster on my attack than last time. And when he side stepped me, I brought out my right leg and kicked his from under him.

He slammed against the ground, and as I reared up on him, a strange wave of force pushed me away.

"I'd keep my distance if I were you, Michael." He said, keeping me at bay with his little force field. I felt cheated from this parlor trick. And that's when it dawned on me. This is why his attacks are weak but forceful.

"That power that your dad held was amazing. Though, it came with a terrible price." His face grimaced again. "The pain; the nightmares; they were truly my greatest hurdle. But I pulled through it, and when I did, I was face down in a concrete cell with your grandfather kicking me in the face." He was smiling at the memory now. His sick twisted mind was bringing him comfort in the fact that he'd gotten his revenge against Marcus.

"And then that bitch Evelyn found me out and sent my greatest trophy over too you." He said spitting towards me. "And now you're here. So what's it going to be, Michael?" He said, crossing his arms.

An idea hit me as we stared into each other's eyes.

"So what happened to your daughter?" I asked.

"What daughter?" He asked. It was as if he didn't even acknowledge her anymore. And under that pretense, our walls began to shake. It was a small tremor at first, but it was enough to know that she was listening.

"The daughter that left your camp to come live in my pack." I said, smiling.

His anger surfaced suddenly as he registered what I'd said. He stormed up to me, and as I reared for the attack, he pushed me up against the red walls with his mind. The soft red walls contoured to my body as he tried to smash me into them. The force was pathetic.

"What have you done to my daughter?!" He yelled.

"Marcus changed her." I said, laughing. My body began its change back to normal, and soon I was relaxing comfortably against the soft tissue-like walls of the cage.

I watched as his gaze went from my eyes to my body. I was covered in transcript, courtesy of my loving mate. She'd spent over an hour preparing Nick and I for war, and when he saw it, he backed away. The slices in my skin were etched across my every surface, and as he pulled away from me, they glowed.

"How is it you can push me with your mind, Seymour." I said maliciously. I scanned his mind for the answer and when I had it, I slammed it into him with all of my being. Its distorted figure smashed against his chest like a cannonball and he flew across our arena.

"Did she do that?!" He yelled, gasping for air as he tried to stand.

I nodded, instantly lying.

"She couldn't have! That useless cunt could barely control a regular person when we'd split apart!" He yelled, making the cage rattle. Sharp spines were starting to protrude from the walls and they were all aiming towards Seymour. This was my chance.

I raced right into his winded figure and pulled him up to his feet. "But she can now! And she can hear every word you spit towards her! So why don't you tell HER why you left her alone at that camp six years ago?!" I was yelling right into his fearful face.

The cage started to recede and aim itself at the two of us as I held him. Their dark red fibers were being drawn right over us as he shook in my grip and fought my hands for release.

"Now would be a good time to beg." I said coldly as I shoved him back.

The threads had become a tidal wave of knives and daggers as they hung above him, waiting silently for his reply.

He was cowered over in fear; his chest was almost touching his knees as everyone watched. This man, this fraud who they'd been following for the past three years was now in the open, and no one was fighting anymore. There was a deep silence between the pack, between everyone.

"Emily… I-"

They crashed down upon him. Their force pushed through the dirt that he once stood on, and decimated the land around their impact. There is no other way I could convey the force of their attack, other than saying that it automatically put him six feet under, and tore him asunder… Seymour… was dead.