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by: Liam O'Donnell
9 June 2012
02:15 a.m.
O'Donnell Residence

The needle poked through the corner of the torn flesh, and Liam seethed. Shit!

He gritted his teeth as he pulled it through with his shaky hands, letting the thread pull all the way to the small knot at the end of its length before making another pass. The stitchwork he'd forced the local clinic to do on his arm after his encounter with Bryden and his pack had torn open, leaving an even uglier wound than when that wolf sliced him with the sword. Then, at least, it was a clean cut, but now it was slightly infected and completely jagged. Back and forth he went over it until the skin tightened to itself to eventually create a natural seal once his healing kicked in. It was the blessing that came with the curse of his capture; He was given the were gene, the curse to shift, but the blessing to heal faster than he used to.

Liam wasn't always a fighter. He was more passive than most, especially given the known temperament of his roots, the war that raged on around him. Then there was the fact that he was married to someone whose sole purpose in life was to step into the shoes that her birth-father left behind, to run the resistance forces against the regime... no, that didn't help his pacifism either. On the muggle side, Liam ran a bar, which saw its share of bar fights from belligerent patrons time and again. But now, the tables turned. He was still the beastly built, six-foot-something Irish-Scottish man, but he no longer owned that bar, and he was no longer married to the love of his life, the woman he cursed and tried to kill while he was dealing with the symptoms and side-effects of the shift and experimentation, like a god-damn ticking timebomb.

The house was a mess, still torn apart from his exchange with Kara, as tidying up was the last on his list of priorities. Most of his ex-wife's stuff was thrown into a pile out back and burned to ash, pictures, clothes, trinkets, all memories of her that he didn't want around. He'd waited the appropriate amount of time after all, a few days give or take, to wait on her to stop by if she dare cross over to come by, but she hadn't. Good. He couldn't look at her anyway, for a multitude of reasons. It broke his heart to know he'd hurt her at all, though the wolf inside of him laughed and told him time and time again that she deserved it. Every bit of it.

'Did you love her?' Bridget asked him once. Was it Bridget? Ugh, well, it didn't matter who asked that...but the fact of the matter was: Liam did love Kara, once upon a time. She would always be the girl he loved most of his life. She would be the one who got away...the one who apparently fell into the arms of another man.

He didn't understand. Prior to all of this, what did he do to deserve that? He spent all of that time missing her in Azkaban and she didn't wait? First it was Winslow, someone he'd suspected all along since they were so close, even before their marriage--but there was no mistaking the scent he picked off of Jace fucking Bryden when he waltzed into her office that day. Liam felt his rage tilt, spiking sharply at the thought of Bryden at all, that smug son of a bitch. He wondered if the poison killed that asshole, like Green said it was supposed to do. Everything in him shook with rage, the longer his mind lingered on him, so he tried to think of other things to calm himself down, but by the time he opened his eyes, there was already a hole in the hallway wall.

FUCK. He had to cool it. He wouldn't have a house left if he lashed out every time he thought of them, Kara and Jace. Liam took a deep breath and walked up the splintered stairs, where he'd lie on the bed, surrounded by broken furniture and debris. He'd wait to see if Bridget would come home.

It was time to lay low until Mr. Green found him again, the man claiming to be Kara's brother, with his next directive...
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