Page 43 of Pack Ruin
Sergeant swallowed, almost nervously. “We have something in common, too, Flor.”
“I know, Uncle,” I said calmly, loving the way his jaw dropped. “Or should I say, great-uncle?” Reaching into my pack, I pulled out the journal. “I’ve read your book.”
Clearly shocked, he took it and turned it over in his hands for a moment, then handed it back. “I’m glad. I’m sure you have questions.”
“You’ve got no idea.” I felt more than one pair of curious eyes on me as Glen and I followed him around a clump of limestone boulders, and through a close-set grove of elms and hackberry bushes. No one spoke, though, and I heard more of the chickadee calls, along with some ravens, owls, and a red-tailed hawk, though that one could have been a real bird.
We walked in silence for fifteen minutes at least, Leroy and a now-conscious Bo both staring at me like I was going to snap and chop off their heads if they so much as blinked. We were in a part of the forest I hadn’t spent much time in when my mother, who’d been at the front of the group, suddenly vanished.
“What the…” Glen breathed.
Sergeant shot him a quelling look, motioning for us to follow.Between a wide pine and a boulder, there was a gap thatled to a sharply angled tunnel, leading down into the ground. A sinkhole?
From where we’d stood, you couldn’t even see it, and something about it made it hard to look at. Hard to approach, even, like it didn’t want to be noticed.
Someone cleared his throat softly, and I startled. “Flor?” Glen murmured. “What is it?”
“Magic, I think,” I replied in a whisper. Moving forward, I nodded at the male who stood by with a screen of leaves and branches, obviously planning to obscure the entrance after we’d gone inside.
I was the only one who didn’t have to duck my head to walk inside the long, narrow tunnel. There was no light to see where we were going, only the sounds of feet scraping on rock, and breathing. The walls grew cooler as we descended, and I even felt my ears pop at some point, but it wasn’t until we’d been walking slowly for at least five minutes, that I realized I could see.
The shifters who’d come in with us whisked Bo and Leroy off to one side, going in the direction of what smelled like smoked meat. I ignored them for now, taking in my surroundings.
I’d never imagined this was here. Del had never found it, as far as I knew. No one in Southern knew anything about this place.
The cavern we’d reached was at least two hundred feet across, and a hundred feet deep, the ceiling covered with glittering stalactites that sparkled and shone in the reflected light of a small campfire. There were about thirty shifters here, none of them in wolf form, but the scent of wolf urine and scat was strong, especially to my left, where a long tunnel disappeared into darkness. A latrine, possibly.
Del had taught me to assess every new place I found myself in for ways to escape, weapons to use. Other than the way we’d come in, I had no idea how to get out of here. The ceiling of thecave was at least fifty feet overhead, and the tunnels my eyes made out could lead anywhere, or nowhere.
But weapons weren’t going to be a problem. The walls were lined with them: swords, daggers, pikes, spears, and knives. Some of the weapons were homemade, mop handles with crude steel blades duct taped on, or screwed in. Some of them were antiques, it looked like.
I blinked at a stack of swords, then sniffed. “Those are actual silver blades,” I muttered. “Real ones.”
“Holy shit,” Glen whispered. “Whatisthis?”
Sergeant walked toward the fire, offering us seats on the wide flat stones around it. “This is your mother’s pack, Flor,” he said, pouring water from a wine bottle and handing me and Glen each a cup. The rest of the males in the cavern moved closer, surrounding us. Glen’s warm leg against my own cold one was all that kept me from wanting to bolt. “Welcome home.”
“Home?” I choked, setting down the cup.
Sergeant shrugged and waved at the room. “You’re the Heir. This will be your inheritance.”
20
Broken and Whole
FLOR
Sergeant’s gaze on me was as heavy as the sandbags Del had once forced me to carry as I ran through the hunting grounds during training. The words my great-uncle said were every bit as weighted, too, with expectation. What did he want from me, though?
I sat stunned for a moment, then finally found my tongue. “I’m not Callaway’s Heir. That’s Luke.” When he frowned, I went on, my voice tight. “I’m not back to stay. I’m here to get my… to get Luke out of Southern. They’re doing something to him. Killing him.”
“And you know this how?” Sergeant asked quietly.
“Ah, I… have a?—”
“Mate collection,” Glen said. I shot him a glare. He winked back. “What? It’s true.”
Sergeant stood, the gathered males moving aside with whispers of “Alpha” as he went to my mother’s side, took her arm, and escorted her to the fire to sit with us. He was incrediblygentle with her, but when he tried to sit her beside me, she hissed.
