Dutiful Sons (Adam +Winn)
Summary: After Winn confesses his past murders, Adam feels that the Code allows him only one option.Â
Location: Main Street Arena
Content Warning: Gun UseÂ
Adam had first learned the proper preparation of silver bullets from his mother Leah. Due to its lower density, silver munitions have less overall power than the simpler lead bullet. Likewise silverâs hardness makes it far more resistant to the rifling within a gun barrel, resulting in bullets that are slower and less accurate then standard. This combined with the price of silver and the intense heat required to melt them down for molding made silver bullets a bitch and a half to utilize efficiently without proper training.
Of course, those silver bullets hadnât been meant for Werewolves. Leah had shown her children how to weaponize silver in order to combat the neverending threat of ghouls and alghouls in the Negev desert. When taking up firing positions with his siblings at chokepoints in lonely wasteland canyons, Adam couldnât have ever imagined that one day heâd be gunning down friends instead of rabid corpse eaters.
It might seem weird to think holding a position against ravenous packs of alghouls as âblissfulâ, but at least then Adamâs perception of the world was crystal clear.
Perhaps going through garage sales and thrifts stores to pick up cheap silver heirlooms to melt down for bullets was emblematic of what it meant to be a Hunter. Just more sacrifices in a war without end.
So there Adam was, crouched with a rifle just outside a blindspot in the Main Street Arenaâs security cameras, prepared to destroy another beautiful thing for the long war.
--
When Adrien Harlow had asked Winn for extra practice, Winn had been⌠hesitant. It wasnât only the full moon energizing his blood, makinâ him more aggressive than usual, wakinâ him up from the cobwebs and sleep of the past month. No, Winn knew that there was a target on his back, and the idea of puttinâ anyone else at risk for his past⌠It made him sick to his stomach. But Adam wouldnât⌠Winn knew that Adam wouldnât even think about hurtinâ a human, not for one werewolf.
Not for one friend.
If Winn could just talk to Adam, he could fix things. Adam wasnât a bad man. Winn wasnât a bad werewolf. There were shades of gray and, as much as Winn didnât regret the decisions he had made, not anymore, he knew he wouldnât make those decisions again. There was a long chain, and it connected Adam and Winn to death. But it didnât have to. All they had to do was try.
But what if Adam didnât want to talk? Winnâd turned the problem over in his head. There was running. Winn could do it. It was like breathinâ â so damn easy, so instinctual, that Winn had almost packed a bag. But heâd made promises, and he intended to keep them. No more running. Not from his past, not from himself.
Winn hadnât been able to tell Noah. There was so much unsaid between them, that it had been easier to say nothinâ at all. His mouth could be put to better uses. Heâd woken up, after, to the nearly full moon casting shadow over Noahâs sleeping form. And heâd thought, This is it. This is where Iâm supposed to be. There were other things he hadnât been able to tell Noah. Feelings that scared him with their intensity, feelings that it felt wrong, somehow, to say in the heat of the moment, or even in the afterglow. But there was no question for him now.
The air was cooling, the wind was changing. Winn could change with it. He would change with it. There were people here now, for him. Friends, family, pack. He had so much left to do.
âHey, baby,â Winn said into his phone, locking up the Arena behind him. Heâd sent Adrien on ahead, wanting him to get home before the sun was down. White Crest wasnât safe. Noahâs phone had gone to voicemail. âFigure youâre sleepinâ off the moon, but Iâm gonna hit my dadâs real quick to grab Denny and then head over to you and Kea. If you wake up, text me what you want to eat. Otherwise, youâre gettinâ pizza again. âS like a hangover: Carbsâll make you feel better.â He laughed, gentle, and then, before he could stop it: âI love you.â A pause, a cough. âSee you soon.â
If he could get home quickly enough, he could make sure the first time Noah heard him say that wasnât over voicemail.
--
When in kneeling position with a rifle, youâll often notice that the scopeâs reticle bounces with your heartbeat. Controlling breathing was a critical part of marksmanship, but you also want to fire between heartbeats, specifically the downbeat of the heart when youâll be most accurate. Adam had been trained by sheer repetition of the years to screen out both fear and eagerness while aiming. Heâd been taught a mantra that personal feelings had no place in a Hunterâs duty.
Hatred, revenge, and cruel sport were all impure emotions that tainted a Hunterâs purpose. There was only a duty to protect humanity by whatever means necessary, the act of taking life just one more mission to fulfill.
But even though heâd confirmed that Winn Woods was a threat to humanity, with a confession no less, Adamâs heart was racing. There should be no feeling or uncertainty now. The Code and Adamâs duty were clear beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt. This wasnât about what Adam wanted anymore. It was out of his hands now.
But the scopeâs reticle was bouncing across Winnâs distant face anyway, as if to mock the dissonance of Adamâs body, heart, and mind. If he was so sure, why was he shaking? Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did some part of Adam still wish that Winn hadnât confessed to him, allowing him some excuse of plausible deniability?
It would be so easy just to walk away. Who would know? Why uphold a Code heâd already broken? Why kill and die for those whoâd never forgive Adam if they knew the truth?
Adamâs finger eased off the trigger for a moment as the urge to walk away from everything caused his eyes to grow hot and wet. Winnâs face blurred in the scope.
But this wasnât about what Adam wanted.
Adam blinked the tears away, there was a silence between heartbeats, and a shot rang out.
