The guards barely gave Sam a second look as he entered the justice office, he had made a habit of bringing items to their only prisoner for a couple of weeks. They allowed it, all under the presumption that someone high up had ordered him to do so. He never brought luxuries, only simple meals, small bars of soap or the occasional fresh set of clothes. At first they had accompanied him down but they soon grew bored of watching the omega slide small items to the cell while the prisoner either ignored him or made snarky remarks. He passed by the desks, piled high with binders and forms, and pulled open the door to the steep staircase leading to the cells. He edged down them more carefully than usual, taking all eighty-two steps one at a time until he reached another door into the main prison area.

Once inside he closed the door quietly behind him and walked to the bars. Brandon shifted on his single mattress lying on the floor, peering over his shoulder at his visitor. He huffed and rolled over, staring at Sam with a look of annoyance. He had healed quickly, Sam noted, although wolves usually did, Karliah had done such a number on him many thought he would be permanently disfigured. He was still covered in green and yellow bruises and his face still had a slightly swollen appearance but he also still had the sour facial expressions Sam had come to know well. He stood by the bars, waiting for Brandon to acknowledge him. It took a few minutes but eventually the beta sat up with a grunt, pulled himself up off the floor and trudged slowly towards the front of his cell, keeping a metre’s distance between them.

Sam watched him blankly, keeping his expression neutral.

“What do you want, omega?” He growled.

“I don’t want anything,” Sam blinked, “I’m just here to tie up some loose ends.” he tilted his head just a little, playing up his omega charms. Brandon mulled over his words for a moment,

“Is that a threat?” he huffed.

“Would an omega threaten you?” Sam asked innocently. Brandon scoffed and strutted to the bars confidently, pressing his face against them.

“You wouldn’t have the balls to go through with anything anyway.” He sneered, Sam smiled sweetly and shot his hand out, the paring knife tucked in his sleeve slid out easily and jammed itself into Brandon’s neck, just above his collar bone. The beta froze, wide-eyed and disbelieving for a moment, staring down at Sam who grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in closer, until his lips were by his ear and whispered,

“Does it really matter what I said when they will never believe what I did?” Brandon gurgled in reply, staggering back, blood spreading quickly down his top in all directions, soaking into the material easily. It dribbled from his mouth as he tried to breath, unsettling, wet, raspy breaths. He choked on the blood in his throat and coughed it up in spatters, his body lurching forward before teetering back again, his arms flailing. Sam stepped away as he began to claw at the knife, finally wrenching it out of his neck, only to cause more blood to spurt out of the gaping hole. Squelches and gurgles filled the room as Brandon frantically stumbled around his cell, gasping for air, Sam ignored him and left, the sounds quickly quieting as he climbed the stairs out to the office and then finally out into the brisk-but-fresh air. He sucked it in heavily through his nose, hoping to clear the stomach-churning smell of blood that still lingered inside.