Page 5 of Runt of the Pack
I stalk back down the hallway, fury and dread coursing through my veins with each pounding heartbeat. In the foyer, I spot Dimitri’s body, his throat savagely slashed. But I do not mourn the loss of this member of the Ursa Elite—the fool brought this fate upon himself by failing to safeguard my kin. Now Gavriil’s life hangs in the balance.
I continue my determined stalk, the delicious taste of retribution flooding my senses and drowning out the coppery stench of blood that pervades the atmosphere. My footfalls echo ominously off the vaulted ceilings and marble floors now scarred by violence.
Soon, more bodies come into view. Four in total—interloping strangers marked with the crest of Grisha’s clan. My lip curls at the sight of them.
The first lies sprawled at the bottom of the carved staircase, spine twisted unnaturally, his open dead eyes staring into oblivion. Another is slumped halfway through an arched doorway, the carved wood stained a glistening red where his head lolls back, mouth open in a silent scream. His throat is no longer fully attached.
Farther down the hall, a trail of gore leads to two more fallen assassins. One, only a boy scarcely old enough to stand with the pack, is crumpled on his side like a discarded doll, the gaping tear in his throat still leaking precious lifeblood across the intricately tiled floor. His companion lies collapsed across him, as if vainly trying to shield the youth from their shared gruesome fate.
At the end of the corridor awaits the grand foyer where Dimitri lies. I step disdainfully over the corpses of my faceless enemies, their rogue pack crest the only detail of interest about them now.
Just then, my sharpened wolf’s senses pick up two familiar scents—Gavriil’s essence, and Luciana’s lilac perfume. But my sister Samara’s scent is absent, bringing me some small relief. Wherever she is, it seems she avoided this bloodbath.
Shucking off my long leather coat, I shift into my wolf form with a guttural snarl. Sleek obsidian fur ripples over powerful muscles as my claws and fangs elongate. The scents in the house intensify tenfold through my lupine senses—blood, fear, rage. And overlaying it all, a sickening trace I know well. The stench of one who has turned traitor. Grisha.
Jaws snapping, I bound out the broken doors into the snow-blanketed woods. The freezing wind lashes my face but I welcome the pain, letting it sharpen my focus. I open my maw, drawing in deep gulps of air to catch my brother’s scent. There—the faintest essence of pine and woodsmoke, uniquely his, off to the northeast. I spring after it in pursuit, paws flying swiftly over the frozen ground.
I have tracked many enemies through these woods over long, bloody years. Every twisting trail and moon-silvered glade is familiar to me even in darkness. My brother’s scent leads me deep into the pines, to a narrow ravine spanned by an ancient fallen tree. I creep low, ears pricked. The gurgle of the half-frozen stream masks any sounds of movement. Has he come this way or his hunters?
A scream suddenly shatters the stillness—high, sharp, female. I bolt towards it, ice crashing through the underbrush until I come upon a small, snow-covered clearing. There I find a massive brown bear lumbering towards a trembling figure—a young blonde woman, crouching against a tree, clutching her bloodied arm.
Luciana. Her wide eyes widen further at the sight of my wolf.
With a savage snarl, I launch myself onto the bear’s back. We crash down in a violent tangle of fangs and claws. I end the threat swiftly, my jaws tearing into the vulnerable throat until the beast lies still.
“Vladimir?!” she gasps out, body sagging in relief.
In a heartbeat, I shift back to human form, kneeling by her side. “What happened? Where are the others?” I demand. She flinches as I examine the gashes torn across her forearm—claw marks, but from no ordinary beast.
“They came for us!” her lips tremble as she whispers, tears slipping down her snow-flecked cheeks. “Bear shifters!”
Rage flares hotly in my gut at her words. Grisha’s rogue clan nearly killed Gavriil years ago. And now, they’ve resurfaced to threaten us again. Treacherous scum.
“Gavriil… he’s hurt. He went after Grisha. He’s the only one left. Oh, Gavriil! I don’t know if he’s still alive!” Despair sweeps over her as she shudders in dismay.
“Where is he?” I demand, rage igniting like an inferno inside me. But shaken in shock, she can’t seem to hear me. “Luciana, listen to me… Listen!” I grasp her face firmly in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Where—is—Grisha?”
At the sound of his name, fury burns away her fear. “He did this to me before Gavriil took him away.” Luciana points a shaking hand towards the trees on the far side of the clearing.
My blood pounds like thunder in my ears. Grisha was my most trusted sentry until he betrayed us. He murdered Bella, his rabid bear too furious to recognize his own lover. It nearly cost Gavriil’s life.
“Come on. We’ve gotta move.” I help Luciana to her feet, ready to resume the hunt. But as I turn towards the trees, a resounding crack echoes from their depths—the heavy tread of a large beast stalking closer.
At once, I push Luciana behind me and shift before she can cry out. Bones grind and pop, muscles surge and swell. My claws sink deep into the frozen earth as I place myself between her and our hunter.
A monstrous shape lurches from the pines, fur as black as pitch. The grizzly’s frame ripples with unnatural size and strength—no normal animal, but a formidable shifter. Grisha. His beady eyes fix on me and his lips peel back to reveal curved yellow fangs.
A rumbling hiss seethes from his throat in a single word: “Vlad.”
My answering roar shakes the night. Traitor and betrayer, hunter and prey—know each other well. He has stolen innocence and spilled clan blood tonight. There will be no mercy for him now.
With stunning speed, the bear charges straight for us. I rush to meet him head-on, our forms colliding like boulders in the ravine. We slam to the frozen ground, all claws and snapping jaws. A swipe of his massive paw knocks me aside and then we are circling, snarling, waiting for an opening.
When Grisha lunges again, I twist lithely away, going for his exposed flank. My fangs find purchase, but only briefly as his thick hide turns my bite. He whirls with a bellow, striking me hard across the muzzle. I roll with the force of it then spring up and dive beneath him, tearing at the tender skin of his underbelly. Hot blood splatters on the snow.
The grizzly rears up with a deafening roar. I brace for his next attack... but instead, he whirls and crashes into the trees, back towards the clearing’s edge. Towards Luciana.
No, no, no!
