Mated To The Cursed Alpha
"The children. You're killing the children. Please, they're innocent, they never..."
"They're hybrids." My voice sounds hollow even to myself. "The cycle ends tonight."
I watch as they die. It takes three minutes, as Marcus said it would. They convulse for a moment, then go still. The television continues to drone, laugh track inappropriate in the face of the bodies on the couch.
I should be feeling something. Triumph, or guilt, or anger. But there is nothing. Just nothing.
Dexter appears at the top of the stairs. He is carrying the two remaining syringes, both of them empty. His expression is carefully blank.
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