Daruius Knight-

I stood in the shadows, a watcher. I had no option other than to witness the scene unfold. Another day, another trial, and yet another guilty man set free. I was sickened. My stomach revolted against the evidence laid before me.

Some how, another wretched human being was given opportunity to continue their conquests. Well, here we go again. I wasn't especially worried about the outcome of the human trial. I was quite bored actually. Centuries of seeing the humans get it wrong, it turns you cold.

No matter how much the victim cried, enough money, the guilty would be vindicated. Money talks and bullshit walks. It was endlessly tiring.

I would wait, mostly patient, for the scum to settle back into their ways. Then I pounced. I had no tolerance for this. I didn't listen, I didn't hesitate. Once my judgement was laid down, I followed thru. The sentence, always the same, death.

There is no rest for the wicked. They humbly fell before my feet, after I took their life, that is. I was the punisher, however many had no knowledge of my title. They saw the wake of my authority, but they never sought the reasons. Instead, choosing to form their own opinions, weaving their own twisted perceptions.

I was feared. I was painted in a dark canvas of brutality. I was never spared a second glance once they knew my wrath. I wasn't particularly fond of my title or my job. But, we don't choose who we are destined to be.

I have come in many forms over the centuries. I have slaughtered. But, do not sit by and listen to idle gossip. There is no innocent blood on my hands. However, one's heart can not withstand the consequences of enforcing death.

Therefore, mine has long since been cleansed of the need of human emotions.

I am the King of Werewolves. My job is protecting the supernatural realm of shapeshifters. I took pride in my kingdom. I took pride in my legacy and I took pride in my pack. Dual lives, equally important.

Being King has its perks. I won't lie. But, sacrifices were made for my immortality. In exchange for my power, I willingly gave up the chance for a mate.

Mates! The blessing of the Moon Goddess. Your biggest weakness and your biggest strength. One soul, perfectly shaped, to compliment you. Oh how I dreamed of my mate. I envisioned the gift of forever with my perfect other half. I daydreamed lazily, day upon day, of my mate and pups, my future.

One human choice ripped my world to shreds. Gone were the days I wasted away dreaming of my perfect future. My fantasies pried from my deadly hands. I eagerly traded my human form for the shifting form I came accustomed to.

***flashback (Darius 18th birthday)***

I woke up in the most pleasant mood. School was coming to an end. My graduation only weeks away, I would be heading to college soon after. All I ever wanted was to provide for my mom. She was a single mother, my dad humped and dumped, leaving her with the evidence of her lost innocence.

She had fallen under his Casanova charms. He lured her, like a the piece of shit he was, into his bed. He took her virtue, and ran. She was graced with an extra mouth to feed, nine months later, me.

Ariana Knight, my mother, was 16 when she birthed me. Kicked from her family home, left to fend for herself in this cruel dark world. It didn't stop her. She took the hand that was dealt with grace. She spent countless years working her fingers to the bones. Providing us with a comforting place we could call home.

I worshipped the ground my mother walked on. She was an angel who floated on Earth. She was the kindest woman, her heart of gold was often taken advantage of. Many mistake kindness for vulnerability. In a way, they aren't exactly wrong.

This day, my 18th birthday, I would know the cruelty the world had to offer. I would learn that nothing gold could stay. My life would be permanently altered.

I came home from an eventless day at school. Walking around the corner to our modest apartment, I was intrigued by the blue lights. I never imagined their presence would be the end of my happiness and the beginning of my demise.

The crime scene tape, yellow and black bondage, wrapped lazily around the stairwell leading to my door. The barricade of nosey neighbors, blocking my view. The detectives were taking names and handing out business cards. I wasn't particularly worried, just anxious to kiss my mom and ask her about her day.

As I made my way to the front of the line, I saw the coroner, removing the body. My heart broke for the lost life. I mourned a soul that had taken it's final breath. I was a tender hearted young man. The evidence of my mother's love. I did not take life for granted.

One of the detectives made his way to face me. I answered questions, robotically. Waiting for them to let me upstairs. Then he asked my address. And I responded, giving him my apartment number "532-C".

I guess I should have noticed. I should have taken in his sharp intake of breath. The beads of sweat that pooled over his brow, a clear indicator that I was not a bystander. The mask that quickly transcended his face, as his eyes began to fill with unshed tears. All of these things, they should have been my markers.

But, I was sheltered. I knew nothing of the consequences that tied to the events that had taken place. I was directed to a police car, to sit. Then quickly, I was transported to the nearest hospital. To say I was confused, would be the understatement of a lifetime.

Upon arrival, I was brought to the morgue, asked to identify a body. Strange, I thought. Is there no one else to ask? Would I know this person? I didn't want to disappoint, although I was positive I would be of no assistance.

Unwillingly, I followed the detectives. I stood before the glass wall. The room in front of me empty, aside from a silver metal table. A white sheet clung to a still form breathless beneath it.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"I guess so?" I shrugged.

He entered the room thru a large heavy steel door. Ice cold air filtered the halls as he made his way into the room. The smell, of clean dead air, suddenly latched onto my skin. I shivered. The spirit of death seeped thru my pores.

He walked hesitantly, standing behind the lifeless corpse. He watched me with a silent stare. His hands quietly moved toward the sheet. As he removed the cover, my world unraveled, piece by stifling piece.

My angel, my best friend, my mother, she lay coldly on that steel pier. Her beautiful chestnut hair, no longer full of bouncing waves. Her piercing green eyes, laid beneath purple lids, still lined with her thick black lashes. Her blinding smile, and deep pink lips, now laid in a grimace, ashen grey upon her porcelain skin.
Her elegant neck bared strangulation marks.

My breath came out choked. My heart clenched. My brain instantly swelled into deep punishing throbs against my skull. My eyes became painful pools of tears. My knees buckled at the weight of my pain.

I frustratingly yanked at my dark chocolate hair, as my chiseled face fell to my knees. Screams of torture escaped thru my thick deep red lips. Tremors wracked my rock hard form.

My beautiful angel, stripped from grace. My mother was no more. I couldn't process the depth of my sorrow. Anger replaced my tears. Rage rolled off of me in waves. Darkness over came me as my body shut down from the shock.

I awoke in a clean bright room. The bed below me, too small for my 6'5" frame. Cool air washed a comforting hand over my skin. A figure stood beside me. His hands clinched a small, unoffending book. His black suit accentuated by a small white square of cloth at the hollow of his throat.

An angel of death. His presence, I knew, brought finality. It left no room for denial. This is as real as it gets. The chaplain lifted his hand and placed it over my arm. I made no move to deny him. His lips moved quietly as he spoke his prayer to the gods. No peace to be brought with his words.

He spoke, "I'm truly sorry to be here. Your mother's life was taken in vain. Peace be with you."

I stared, deadly silent as he made his way out of the hospital room. His departure, the click of the door, brought closure to the life I once lived. His haunting figure left a wake of sadness behind. I needed answers.

I stood, still in my school clothes, and walked out of that room. The hallways were filled with nurses, doctors and finally those intrusive detectives. I made my way towards the messengers of death.

Standing tall beside them, I requested the details I couldn't bear to leave unrevealed:

***End if flashback, end of life as I knew it***

Strangled, beaten, raped, robbed, and murdered. Theses words would become my triggers, the calling of my nature.

I stood, waiting for my next appointment with death. The flashback was my henchman. I wore my pain like an invisible cloak, motivating me in my assignment. No guilty man or woman would find freedom, not on my watch!