Doom? How prophetic... What Jason meant as a joke turned into a reality when Dr. White gave him the results of his tests two weeks later.

After a thorough medical examination, Ishmael and Jason returned to the club. And life continued as normal, without anything nasty popping out of the blue to complicate his life any further. Jason stayed in his apartment most of the time, relaxing on the couch and watching movies. Not that he really wanted to, but Ishmael had threatened to tie him down on the couch if he didn't comply with the doctor's orders to take it easy. Jason took to heart; they had a lot of rope lying around.

That Wednesday, the day before his test results, Ishmael showed up at his door and told him that the doctor had called him. They needed to head back to Dr. White's practice the next day. Just what Jason needed, another round of probing.

On the day of reckoning, Ishmael sat next to Jason in a modest room with a massive mahogany table in front of them. Jason's eyes raked over the back covers of the books on the bookshelves to his right. They were mostly medical books. How boring... Out of boredom, Jason started picking at loose threads of nylon that came undone on the armrest. What took the doctor so long?

Just as he was about to ask Ishmael, the door creaked open. The doctor waltzed into the office. He flung a cigarette bud out of the window as he passed Ishmael's chair. Jeez, talk about setting an example for his patients. Do as I say, but don't follow my lead. Dr. White planted his stubby ass on his leather chair and swiveled over to his laptop. After ignoring them for a few minutes, he glanced at Jason with solemn eyes. Those same freaky eyes that crawled under his skin.

The doctor ruffled his tasered gray hair. "Thank you for coming." He opened Jason's medical file with a sigh. "Unfortunately, I don't have good news for you. I'll be straight with you, Mr. Brooks... Never in my life have I seen such a case as yours. The ritual has wrecked your body. You'll never be as strong or as healthy as you were. I would have recommended that you undergo physiotherapy to regain some of your muscle mass and begin eating healthy, but in the end I don't think it will help you."

Ishmael leaned forward into his chair. "Why wouldn't it help? What's wrong with him?"

"Jason's body will continue to weaken to the point where it gives in." The first blow hit Jason in the gut. "The ritual did more damage than I realized," the doctor said. "Jason, you're dying." The second punch to the gut didn't hurt at all. Deep down Jason had already accepted his fate. His suffering had to come to an end.

Ishmael's eyes dug into Jason's. Sorrow seeped out of them.

"How much time do I have left?" were the words that spilled out of Jason's mouth. He knew from the doctor's evasive demeanor that there was no hope for him.

A firm hand grabbed his own. "Jason, don't give up," Ishmael pleaded.

"There's nothing you can do, Ish. Jason's soul is crumbling apart, piece-by-piece. In a year or so, there will be nothing left of his soul. Only his fragile body will remain behind." Dr. White shook his head. "I'm sorry..."

And so it ends.

***

A wooden chair hit the wall, splintering into a million pieces. The defeated look on Astrid's face said it all. Even though he only knew them for a few weeks, Jason considered them friends. The only ones who didn't abandon him. The shattered remains of the chair Astrid threw after hearing the news of his impending death proved that she cared. A vampire of all people had more heart than his own family.

Pfft! Fuck families... They only needed a smaller weapon to stab you in the back.

Jason sat on the leather couch beside Ismael's desk, staring out of the window. His heart, eerily at peace. Why? Fuck knows. Maybe he knew that half of him had already died that day in the chamber, and the rest of him expected to follow suit. The only thing that worried him... Would it hurt? What was going to happen when he drew his last breath?

"Is this the end?" Jason asked monotonously, still staring at the crew as they cleaned the dance floor.

Astrid stopped pacing around the office. "What do you mean, Jason?"

"Will I die or cease existing? I mean, my soul is crumbling apart... Will there be an afterlife for me?"

Jason already knew the answer, but he needed a second opinion. A life line, perhaps? But there wasn't. He was about to follow Oz into oblivion. No afterlife for him, nor another chance at reincarnation. Only the embrace of the void awaited him. Soon, he would cease to exist, as if the gods never created him in the first place.

"Don't think like that!" Astrid said, turning to Ishmael. "There's got to be a way to save him."

"Astrid, calm down. I've already contacted the Collective and asked them for help. I've also sent Dr. White's medical reports for them to analyze. Hopefully, they'll come back to me with a solution."

"Don't hold your breath." Jason rose from the couch. Hope for a miracle was a fool's errand. He was going to die, and there was nothing they could do about it. "I'm heading back to my apartment."

"Wait, Jason." Astrid rushed up to him and gave him a hug. His body stiffened, but relaxed when he didn't experience any pain. She wasn't touching any of his bare skin. "Just don't give up. OK?" Her voice strained, threatening to break. "There's so much to live for and you're too young to die."

Jason appreciated her sentiment, but the writing was carved in stone. Death didn't discriminate against age, race, or gender. Did he want to live on? Perhaps. Staying with Astrid and Ishmael wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be. He found a sense of peace amongst the kinky beasts that roamed the club. Jason even made a couple of friends.

Jason tightened his hold and started sobbing. "I can't hope for something that isn't possible. My heart will not survive it." He pulled out of her embrace, swiping his stinging tears with the cuffs of his sweater. "I'd rather live with the harsh truth than with a sugar-coated lie. So the moment the Collective comes back to you with their answer, I want the truth... even if it's not what you wished for."

Jason reached for the door and opened it. The jovial laughter of the cleaning crew wiped out the gloomy atmosphere from the room. He walked out before they could call him back into the office. Jason didn't want to be there anymore.

***

Jason sat on his bed, staring at his cellphone's glowing dials. Over the last hour, he had been struggling to summon the courage to call the one person whose voice could soothe his crippled soul. Ever since he woke up from his hospital bed, he had no desire to reconnect with his family, but his impending damnation made him homesick. Not for his family, no. But the one person who stood by his side, Mallory.

It had been over six months since he last saw her. And that was when the crazy-ass witch electrocuted her. He had an inkling of how she'd react to his sudden phone call, and he wasn't looking forward to it. With each number filling up the call bar, Jason's heart jumped up his throat.

Get it over with, pussy. She's your friend... Jason imagined Oz telling him. He missed his wolf so fuckin' much. A hollowed pain in his chest was the only proof of his existence.

With the final digit inserted, Jason pushed the green button and placed the phone to his ears. The ringing continued for a while without an answer.

It must be a sign. End the call!

Jason lowered the phone and his finger reached for the red button.

"Hello, Mallory's speaking..."

His finger halted.

Her happy-go-lucky voice pierced his heart. He stopped breathing, staring at the monstrosity in his hand, as if it was about to chomp his hand off.

"Hello?" A few seconds passed. Jason sat there frozen, unable to breathe. It was comforting to hear her voice again. He missed it. "Fuck off, needle dick or whoever you are. Call me again and I'll hunt you down and bury your bones in your mother's snatch bucket."

Ouch! Jason chuckled. And she kisses her mate with that mouth. Wait! Does she even have one? Her 18th birthday was a couple of months ago.

"Jason!" Mallory shrieked through the phone. Oh Fudge! She must have recognized his laugh.

Jason's finger reached over to the speaker button. He pressed it. Soon her frantic words flooded the bedroom.

"Jason, is that you?" Her trembling voice carried hope in them.

Jason chewed on his response. "Yeah... it's me."

What happened next hit him like a hammer in the chest. A broken wail threatened to short-circuit the speakers of his phone. He nearly dropped the phone. Mallory's crying fractured his own wall. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

After a couple of heart-wrenching minutes of listening to his best friend bawling her eyes out, she finally recovered and said, "I thought you were dead. Everybody searched for you but they lost your trail." She ended with a couple of sniffs.

Dead? Why?

"Why would you think such a thing?" He wasn't dead. Well, he was technically one foot in a shallow grave, slowly disintegrating to pieces.

Mallory blew her nose out in a tissue, he hoped. "The doctors told us that without your medication you'd not make it far—how could you just disappear like that! Without saying where you were heading!" Her voice threatened to shatter the windows.

"I had to." It was all he could say, and it was the truth. It was as simple as that.

A few seconds of silence lingered between them before she burst. "What lousy fucking excuse is that! 'You had to.' Are you shitting me?"

She couldn't understand how he felt, waking up in a hospital bed all alone. Thrown away like trash. Then his family made it worse by trying to pay him off to soothe their own guilt.

"What did you expect me to do, Mally? Just carry on with my life, accepting their fucking money like a cheap whore after they fucked me over?" Jason shot up from his bed and paced around the room. "They took everything from me! I wanted to get away as far from them as I could—I want nothing from them!"

Jason's lungs burned. He shouldn't have shouted. The darkened room started lurching left to right, causing him to stumble a bit. Jason slumped down on his bed, lightheaded.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't consider how you felt about the situation." She groaned over the phone. "You're right. I would have done the same." Jason stared up at the ceiling, watching the last flicker of light disappear across the ceiling.

"How are you?" she asked, changing the subject.

Could he tell her? It didn't seem appropriate to tell his best friend over the phone that he was dying; she deserved more.

"I'm fine, just a little light-headed," Jason replied, avoiding the grim topic of his impeding death. He just wanted to enjoy the phone call. Not that they had a great start to begin with.

"I'm sorry that I didn't visit you in hospital. I should have, but your father had forbidden anyone from coming into contact with you."

That fucker! Should have guessed... Not only did his father destroy his life, but he also wanted to make sure he had no one left. A last insult before his father tried to buy him off. What a despicable man.

"It's alright." Jason couldn't stay mad at her. He should have known something was amiss when she wasn't at his side. "Don't lose sleep over it. You need your beauty rest to keep your face as pretty as possible. I've seen your mug early in the morning and it's not pretty."

"Screw you, turd face. My mate tells me every morning that I'm his gorgeous-oh, I'm sorry, Jase. I didn't mean to talk about him while yours—"

"Stop apologizing. I'm not sorry about what happened. She and my brother can go fuck themselves. They deserve each other," said Jason honestly. He cared more about the death of his wolf than the worthless bitch he had as a mate.

"So who's the unlucky guy whose dick you're chomping to bits every night?"

Mallory scoffed over the phone. "Oh please, I give excellent head. Thank you very much. His name is Henry Miller, a warrior for the Widow's Peak pack in Charlotte, Tennessee."

Jason climbed off the bed and walked into the living room. He reached over at the switch and turned on the lights, flooding the dark room with light.

"What's he like?" Mallory's mate had better be a gentleman, otherwise Jason would buy a hunting rifle with enough silver bullets to kill an elephant. Not that he would want to hurt such a majestic creature in a million years.

"Oh, he's perfect and—" She became quiet. Oh, that wasn't good. Her pretty little head was cooking up an evil idea. "No. I'm not going to tell you. You'll just have to meet him."

Jason's body froze before he managed to open the fridge. No, he couldn't. Jason didn't want his best friend to see him in the state that he was in. He could barely hold his gaze in a mirror before wanting to smash it to pieces.

"I don't think it's a smart idea, Mally. Don't you have duties—"

"Don't you even fuckin' dare," she cut him off. "We're coming to visit and that's final. The only thing that you have to do is to give me your address where you're staying and we'll be there as soon as possible."

"You must have better—"

Before Jason could talk his friend out of her visit, a hand snatched his phone from his grip. "New York City. Upper Manhattan. Come to a club called Nocturnal. Your dear sweet friend is staying with us. You're welcome to visit anytime, sugarplum," said Astrid in a sultry voice. Her eyes flashed with amusement as Jason stared at her with a slack jaw.

"Traitor!" Jason yelled.