AUTHOR'S NOTE: So we all knew from almost the beginning there wouldn't really be a happy ending. Not for Quil at least. I would like to say that sorry it's short, but Claire's is always going to be longer because of the first person point of view.

I do want to say that I intend for this to be the last chapter. I never intended to write this much, it was only supposed to be a one-shot. But I got a few reviews that wanted more, and inspiration struck. This is my first chapter story ever, and I'm really happy I did it.

I wanted to give a special shout out to Kochabilka, who has reviewed for every chapter loyally. Thank you for it, I appreciate it. I also wanted to thank XOXO Loved and Lost XOXO, MaxBacon, deadliestdistractionRN, AmutoBookwormFan, and the people who guest reviewed for reviewing and giving me your opinions. I promise you that your opinions really did help me shape my story and decide to continue on.

I know I said this is my last chapter. But as I said before, reviews can sway me. If anyone wants an epilogue from Claire, leave me a review. If enough leave one, I will write it, I promise. Otherwise, it is complete. Enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think.

He was lost. What was the purpose? Everything he thought to be true was a lie. He thought him and Claire were meant to be. His ancestors had left them with the knowledge that the imprint was to show him who his perfect match was. The pack and he had followed those guideline loyally. Not questioning the truth of meaning of the stories. His mouth quirked into a half smile.

Well, almost all the pack. Leah was the exception to the rule. The exception to every rule. There was no she-wolves. Imprinting was rare. Imprinting was meant to show you your soul mate. You couldn't be without your imprint once the bond was established. Neither party could fight the imprint. Yet every rule had been proven wrong. Leah transformed and became the first known she wolf. Almost the entire pack had imprinted. And apparently the imprint could be fought. And wrong.

After Claire's admission in the car, Quil felt as though a fog had lifted. All the rage and darkness that consumed him was gone. For a moment, he couldn't remember where or what he was doing. And then clarity swept through his confusion, leaving him feeling sick. He remembered the exact moment he let the wolf take control. As he lay in that forest, the pain of Claire's absence tearing him apart, and the second he realized Claire's mom helped her escape. He remembered the white hot hatred of the wolf rush to the surface. How the wolf's rage was so powerful that it broke Quil's control and took of his mind and actions. And how he fell into a sort of sleep. He could see himself committing those horrifying acts, yet he did not comprehend what was happening, the severity of the wolf's choice.

He felt her gaze burning holes through his skull. A quick glance brought painful memories to the forefront of his focus. His knuckles tightened on the wheel, eyes unseeing of the road. He opened his mouth to speak, but remained unable to speak. What could he say? 'I'm sorry, I didn't meant to kill your family. My inner wolf was pissed off.' Or, 'If I had known you were gay, I would not have brutally murdered your little cousins in front of you. Sorry.' Nothing he said would make it alright, it wouldn't change what he did, or take away the pain he had caused her. And make no mistake, he might not have known what he was doing, but it was still his fault. If he had been stronger, if he hadn't given into wolf, Claire would have her family. In the back of his mind, he knew that in all honesty, he could have stopped it. While the wolf was the one do the dead, it was him that spewed those pained and hateful words of his 'sacrifices.' That's something he would never, and could not forget. He could have stopped it if he tried. That fact burned him, and would be his most well-kept regret.

He, not for the first time, was broken once again by the supernatural. So he stayed quiet. He didn't even deserve to speak to her. So he didn't.

When he finally found suitable shelter, he hightailed out as fast as he could with a mumbled, "Making a food run. Be back in three hours," over his shoulder. He couldn't bear to look at her anymore. Not with her emotionless expression, bloodshot eyes, and defeated posture. Not when seeing that only viciously reminded him that he was the cause of it. He walked into the surrounding forest. (Something inside him twitched as he did, remembering just how well it went last time he walked in and out of a forest.) And for the next two hours he let it out. Everything. The anger he felt at himself and the supernatural. IT WASN'T FAIR! What had he done to deserve this? What had Claire done? The horror of what he had done. He didn't even know he was capable of this. He could still feel the way Mrs. Young's fingers broke, the crunch of bones, the sticky wet blood that spread on his hands and clothes, and the weightlessness of the two boys. Screams echoing in his head. In and around him.

He punched a tree, breaking his hands like the way he broke Mr. Young's hand.

-Emily screamed as though apart of her soul had been split. In the background Mrs. Young stared on in mute shock, her back sliding along the wall. He smirked as Sam's body fell by the door, his head rolling near Emily. Looking at the boys, he winked. Deciding do give them a soccer lesson, he rolled the head between his feet, once, twice, and then kicked it under the table.-

"Noooo," He moaned. His hand tore at his hair, embracing the throbbing pain of his gnarled hands. Maybe if he pulled hard enough he could wake up from this monstrous nightmare.

-Mr. Young steeped in front of his wife protectively. Quil ignored him. With lightning speed, he grabbed the butcher knife off the counter and shoved it without hesitation into Emily's stomach. He pulled it out, and with mocking gentleness, stabbed her twice more. Her face filled with shock and pain. Shouting and screams rose behind him. Knife still in hand, he spun around to meet Sam head on.-

Quil choked. Fuck, how could he? Sam and Emily were like family to him. They took him in when he had no one, and he betrayed them. He fucking murdered them in front of their own children. Why had he done it? He couldn't make sense of it.

-"GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Mrs. Young ran toward her husband. Tears ran down her cheeks as she threw her body full force at Quil, attempting to stop him. However, her effort was useless when he swatted her away like an annoying insect. Her temple meet the table, and Mrs. Young descended into darkness. Mr. Young wouldn't be so lucky. 'No, Quil thought as he sunk his teeth into Mr. Young's vulnerable throat as easily as if it were made of cotton candy, 'he definitely wasn't.'-

Bile rose to Quil's own throat. His entire body ached as he vomited the contents of his now empty stomach. He pressed his tired head onto the ground. A stranger looking on would say it seemed as if though he was prostrating himself before a higher power. Perhaps in regret or sorrow. Maybe both. Quil would say there was no higher power, not if it allowed all these evil things to happen. And if there were a higher power, then it was one sadistic motherfucker who he refused to answer to if that was the case. After all, what being could watch all these horrible acts committed every day and not stop or help?

Quil pondered this question as he agonized over what he had done. It ran through his mind as he returned to Claire, only to find her bleeding out on the cabin floor, almost lost to the fight between life and death. He thought this as he picked up her light weight, and bandaged her up to slow the bleeding. As he didn't hesitate to leave her at the nearest hospital, even as his wolf howled in panic, he still gave her up to be saved. As left her a shitty excuse for an apology note, and as he left.

He thought about it as he sat on the bed in the cabin, fingering the trigger, staring the barrel of the gun he found beneath the floor boards. And he decided, taking in the pool of dried blood to the right of him, that whatever it might be, would give him the pain he deserved. After all, if they could watch mess they called life, why wouldn't they get a kick out of torturing him for all eternity in his supposed after life? And it wouldn't be any less than he deserved. It was the only true way to make up for what he had done to Claire. Claire could live in peace knowing her families' killer was gone. That the monster had been vanquished.

His mouth twitched upwards. He remembered how Claire used to love those fairy tales when she was little. The princess was rescued by the prince, the monster was vanquished, and every one lived happily ever after. His amusement left him as quickly as it came. In real life, the princess wasn't saved by the prince. No, she was stolen by the monster in disguise, she preferred princesses over princes, and there wouldn't be anyone else to live happily after with. He had destroyed that for her too.

With steady hands he lifted the barrel to his mouth. 'At least'he thought, 'I can destroy the monster.'

His finger pushed the trigger. Then, nothing.