Page 67 of The Wolf King

The hairs on the back of my neck raise as a whisper passes from mouth to mouth.Human.

I want to run, to hide, but I can’t. I’m surrounded.

A gust of wind sweeps my hair out of my face, exposing my neck.

And the collar.

Another current of emotion passes through the crowd. Someone growls. A female spits on the floor.

“She’s mine,” says Callum.

My mouth dries at the power he commands.

His gaze seeks mine, and I raise my chin. He nods, and I nod in return.

Then time speeds up again. With Ryan over his shoulder, Callum strides toward the castle doors.

“Fergus, go get the healer.” Callum says the wordhealeras though it tastes bad. “Isla, look after the lass—”

“I’m going with you,” growls Becky.

Isla darts forward, but Callum meets Becky’s determined gaze, sighs, then inclines his head.

“Rory,” says Callum. “This way.”

Isla’s eyes turn to ice when they drop to the collar around my neck. Her lips pinch together.

Callum doesn’t need to tell me twice. Even if I wasn’t surrounded by Wolves who wanted to kill me, I would follow.

Not because of Callum’s stupid collar. Because of the body in his arms—dripping with blood.

I am connected to that boy.

I spared his life, in the dog-fighting ring. I tended to his wounded arm in the kennels. He put me on this path that led to the Kingdom of Wolves. And it was surely my people, looking for me, that did this to him.

He cannot meet his end this way.

“Slut,”Isla mutters as I pass.

I bite back a retort, not wanting to add fuel to an already inflammatory situation.

I feel the eyes of the surrounding Wolves burning into my back as I hurry through the castle entrance. The big oak doors swing shut behind me.

***

I follow the group through the castle.

We pass the kitchens, then head down a stairway to a dark room beneath the castle. We must be in the infirmary. There are shelves filled with small jars and pots along the walls, and a workstation littered with books and herbs and glinting metal tools against one wall.

There are a couple of cots, and Callum gently places Ryan onto one of them. He kneels down beside him and presses against the wound in his side. Blood spills between his fingers.

Ryan’s breathing is raspy, each shuddering breath sounding like it could be his last. Callum looks like he’s in pain.

There’s a strange scent in the air, and the walls close in on me as I recognize it. It smells like death. The pain and the grief and the inevitability of what will come hangs like a shroud over us, and reminds me too much of those hours I spent with my mother before the end.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I don’t know what to do.

Becky, grasping onto Ryan’s hand on the other side of the bed, starts to cry. It’s as if she has realized what is going to happen too.

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