If Sam had skin, it would be white as snow. Fear gripped him, freezing his muscles in place. He shouted, "I hate what you're doing, making me feel so *human* right now! This—this is what they must always feel like!"
Jamie took another step forward, his voice low. "Don't worry. In a few moments, you won't feel anything."
Then he lunged, a whirlwind of power and dread barreling toward Sam like a freight train. The force struck him—a powerful claw tearing into his flesh, spraying blood across the floor as he slammed against the wall and collapsed to the ground. His head hit the floor hard, a white light flashing in his vision before darkness swallowed it, slowly replaced by the dim outlines of the room.
He could hear Jamie's heavy, deliberate footsteps, each one booming like a sledgehammer, closing in. Jamie's voice erupted through the silence. "Are you happy now, Sam? You wanted a monster—well, here he is."
Sam shouted, "I wanted a monster, sure—but not a traitor like you! Mother's plan was perfect in every way: cleanse the Earth of the humans who fester here, destroy everything they've corrupted. They're bumbling idiots with barely a century to live, wasting it all on tearing down anything good. And here you are, a human that's stolen Mother's gift, trampling on everything she stood for!"
Jamie laughed, dismissing his words. "You claim to hate humans, to be better than us, and yet you do exactly what you accuse us of doing. Your cult's grand ambition is just wiping out humanity, to somehow prove how cruel we are by being even crueler. So, what—cruelty is supposed to disappear if you erase mankind? Tell me, Sam, what happens next when they're gone? You'll fall into the same traps, start tearing each other apart over the same stupid reasons humans did. There'll still be war, still be cruelty, and there'll still be bastards like me who exist just to piss you off."
Sam coughed up blood, then spat, "You're...you're right, Jamie. Things won't be perfect without them, but we'll live forever. One day, we'll be wise enough to fix everything mankind has destroyed. We have eternity! I won't let these mortal bastards ruin everything when they'll never live to see the end!"
Jamie's voice lowered, cold and calm. "This isn't about making the world a better place. You want the world to be some way—a way where everything makes sense to *you* and you don't have to take responsibility. You've never been great or extraordinary, so you cling to this fantasy where everyone you hate is the monster, and you're the hero. That's what you live for. Doesn't matter if they're human or monster; it never mattered to you. You need a monster to exist, someone to blame, so you don't have to look in the mirror and face the most pathetic sack of shit you've become. But you know what? That's fine. You wanted a monster—well, now you've got one."
Jamie's eyes darkened as he prepared to deliver exactly what Sam had been asking for.
Jamie's claws scraped against the wall, sending out sparks and a screeching sound that cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard. His shadow loomed larger with each step as he advanced toward Sam, his growl low and menacing. "Come on now," Jamie taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Where are you going to run?"
Sam pathetically scrambled backward, his palms slipping on the blood-streaked floor as he crawled toward a doorway. Desperation fueled him as he reached for the handle, yanking it repeatedly. The door didn't budge, the mechanism jammed with rust and grime. "No, no, no!" he muttered, panic rising in his chest. Behind him, Jamie's heavy footfalls echoed louder, a predator toying with its prey.
With a sudden, deafening crash, Jamie punched sam through the door, ripping it clean off its hinges. The force sent Sam flying backward into a rack of old magazines, which toppled over him in a flurry of torn pages and dust. Sam coughed, disoriented, as Jamie stepped through the wreckage, his glowing blue eyes piercing through the darkness. "Is this really the best you've got?" Jamie growled, stepping closer, his teeth bared in a twisted grin.
Sam began yelling at Jamie, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. "You're going to go mad! Lose every sense of reason and kill everyone you've ever known, can't you? Just give me the common courtesy of killing me quickly. Come on now, all this effort and for what? Don't you have people to save? Don't you have a life you think you've earned?"
Jamie didn't respond, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room. Without a word, he grabbed an old, rusted piece of machinery and hurled it with devastating force. The machine crashed into Sam, pinning him beneath its weight. Sam writhed beneath it like an animal caught in a snare, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he squirmed against the crushing weight. "Did you really torture that kid?" Sam spat, desperation lacing his voice. "Made him go insane?"
Jamie inhaled deeply, his piercing blue eyes locked on Sam. "No," he said calmly, "but I probably would if I had to." He stepped closer, his massive frame looming over the writhing man. Finally, he knelt down, one knee pressing into the debris-strewn floor, and stared Sam directly in the eyes. His voice was low and cold, yet brimming with restrained fury.
"You need a monster. You want a monster," Jamie began. "You need a victim to feel like you're worth anything. The only thing that makes your pathetic existence bearable is finding someone you don't approve of, erasing them from existence for the crime of not fitting into your twisted fairy tale. Sure, I'm a monster, but at least I want to leave people alone and be left alone. You? You'd tear the world apart, kill anyone who doesn't meet your standards of existence. How many innocents would die under you, Sam? I can't let that happen."
Jamie's face twisted into a sadistic grin, one that belonged to a demon savoring the moment before devouring its prey. He placed both hands firmly around Sam's neck, his claws pressing into the man's skin. Sam struggled, his eyes wide with terror, as Jamie leaned closer, his voice dropping to a menacing growl.
"You're going to die alone in this hole, Sammy," Jamie said, his grin widening. "And I'm going to take your head off."
Both of Jamie's powerful hands tightened around Sam's neck, his grip unrelenting as the light began to fade from Sam's eyes.
Before losing consciousness Sam began to hear the faint sound of a gear turning followed by a sharp click. Then came the deafening bang. Jamie turned his head sharply to the side, catching sight of Rex standing in the doorway, a massive revolver in his hand.
The bullet struck Jamie's arm, causing him to release Sam and clutch the spot where the shot landed. Jamie examined his arm as if he'd accidentally brushed against a wall. The bullet tumbled out, clinking against the floor, leaving behind only a small hole in his skin.
"That didn't hurt as much as I thought it would," Jamie said, his voice calm but tinged with irritation.
Rex smirked, spinning the revolver once before resting it at his side. "That was just to get your attention. Now, let the idiot go."
Jamie glanced down at Sam, who was sprawled pathetically on the floor, gasping for breath and clinging to the wreckage like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. Sam stammered, his voice weak and desperate. "I'm... I'm the most valuable person you have. In that whole little occult. I have connections—powerful people. You don't want to let me go!"
Rex rolled his eyes, his face twisting with frustration. "If you keep bitching like that," he snapped, "I'll leave you here to die. Do us all a favor and shut up for once."
Sam flinched, looking utterly defeated, as Jamie straightened, his towering frame casting a shadow over both skinwalker.
Jamie narrowed his glowing eyes, his wolfish features sharpening with suspicion. "So, why the hell do you care so much about this little shit?" His voice was a low growl, barely masking his contempt.
Rex adjusted his hat, exhaling through his nose like he was already tired of explaining. "Simple. I need someone to pay me, and this kid's parents are filthy rich." He gestured vaguely toward Sam, who was still crumpled on the floor like a discarded rag. "See, they worship that Cult of Mother or something. They think their precious little boy is out funding some grand rebellion of monsters in Switzerland. All for the good fight for Mother."
Jamie raised an eyebrow, skepticism thick in his gaze. Rex let out a deep, booming laugh that echoed through the room. "Ha! Turns out, this idiot never even found the right cult! Instead, he stumbled into Shiloh's little group and got hoodwinked into funding her rebellion."
Jamie's lip curled into a half-smirk. " So he found a more crazy cult."
Rex's face grew serious, the playful edge in his tone evaporating. "Here's the kicker: if his parents find out, he's screwed worse than anything you or I could do to him. Bureaucratic parents are a fate worse than death.
Jamie's smirk faded as Rex leveled a hard stare at him. "Here's the deal: leave the kid alone, and you get out of here. If you do, I'll give you a week. After that, I'm coming for you. I don't care if you're holed up in Fort Knox or hiding in the North Pole. I will find you."
Jamie tilted his head, his wolfish features twisting into a skeptical sneer. "Why not just kill me now?"
Rex licked his lips, a glint of amusement in his eye. "It's quite simple, really. I want to be remembered. History doesn't care if you're rich, powerful, or famous—it only remembers what you contribute. History is timeless. Once I'm dead, my actions will carry on for eternity. Even with this eternally youthful body of mine, my days on this earth are limited."
Jamie's patience snapped. "Get to the point!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the room like a thunderclap.
Rex raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Calm down, you overgrown furry. I'm getting there." his grin returned. "As I was saying, I need to make my mark. You don't truly contribute to anything until you etch your name into history. And what I want—what I need—is to be the first man in recorded history to kill a Half-Blood."
Jamie's eyes narrowed, but Rex kept going, his voice growing more fervent. "And here's why I'm giving you a week. I want you fully rested, at your best, so when I kill you, it's a fair fight. Can't have people thinking I took down some poor, injured version of you. That'd make me history's greatest coward. No, I'm hunting you at your strongest. And when I kill you, Jamie, I'll be remembered as history's greatest hunter.
"And then…" Rex leaned in, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "I'm mounting your head on my wall."
He straightened up, his grin widening into something sinister, a twisted whirlwind of pride and malice. "So, what do you say?"
The room fell into an uneasy silence as Rex's words hung in the air, his deal offered like a poisonous fruit.
Jamie hardly hesitated before answering bluntly, "Go fuck yourself!"
Without missing a beat, he grabbed Sam and hurled him at Rex. The collision was catastrophic, like a car crash where one vehicle is obliterated, and the other barely has a scratch. Rex staggered slightly, his face now smeared with Sam's blood, a mix of shock, confusion, anger—and something else he couldn't quite place.
Sam, barely clinging to life, groaned as he weakly latched onto Rex for balance. Rex, clearly disgusted, dropped him immediately, letting him hit the floor with a dull thud. Sam coughed and rasped, "Just leave him and get me out of this hellhole!"
Rex glared down at him, his voice a growl. "Shut up, or I'll skin you next. Damn it, was this really worth it? You could've done anything! Gone to Vegas, gotten laid one last time, fuck, started a podcast! But no, you just had to do that dumb shit!"
Jamie simply smirked, leaning casually against a broken beam. "Well," he said, his tone calm but laced with mischief, "I'm a man who likes a good price for any offer. And the look on your face right now is Absolutely priceless."