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There wasn't a single bit of his body that wasn't throbbing. Kali was absolutely relentless. Kicking, punching, scratching at Derek without abandon. His left arm and leg were useless, broken in at least four places. Derek couldn't help the tears coming out of his eyes as he tried crawling away from her and Deucalion.
He put a distance of two feet between him and Kali but he knew they were just watching him, watching him pathetically trying to save himself. Derek heard them laughing and within a second, she was back on top of him continuing her assault, only this time she had a metal pipe in her hands. She brought it down upon his left shoulder blade; his cries and the sound of the pipe making contact against his body thundering sickeningly across the warehouse.
He turned onto his back to look up at Kali and managed to grab the pipe as she brought it back down. She easily wrestled it form his grasp and broke the bones of his right hand. She stopped on Deucalion's command. Kali tilted her head and examined Derek's mangled face. She snorted, never having seen a werewolf be beaten for such an extended period of time that they'd revert back to their human form. She held her foot to his chest and waited for Deucalion to approach.
"Why are you doing this? Because I won't join your pack?" Derek said harshly, trying not to gag on his own blood.
"Exactly," Deucalion told him and kneeled beside him, "I can't have you aiding someone else besides us. If you're not with us, you're against us. Simple as that."
He tried to move to strike Deucalion but Kali pressed her foot down.
She laughed, "seems like this one still has some fight left in him," Derek spat at her, painting her face red. She gasped and raised the pipe well above her head, meaning to impale him with it.
"Enough!" Deucalion yelled and she threw the pipe on the ground and retreated, wiping her face with her forearm.
"You could have just said yes, you know? You would have been treated like a king," Deucalion stopped for a moment and touched Derek's face, "You were right, Kali. He looks like his mother."
Derek's eyes widened as his mind raced. How could they possibly know that? Did they know his mother before she was murdered? In a haze of a thousand questions rushing through his mind, he didn't notice that Deucalion had taken a wolfsbane-laced knife out of his coat pocket.
"It's a shame, really," He said and plunged the knife into Derek's throat. He tried to slap Deucalion's hand away to no avail. The knife had gone through him with little resistance. Blood poured out from his mouth and throat, pooling around his head. His body jerked lightly beneath Deucalion's hand. He twisted the knife, leaving it lodged in Derek and they walked away.