Page 42 of Pack Ruin
I glanced across the pine branches at Glen. I could just make out his face, and could tell he was fighting not to laugh. Did he know what these boys were talking about?
At that moment, the breeze shifted direction, and I grimaced.
Leroy sniffed. “I smell somethin’, Bo.” He sniffed again, standing up. “Cinnamon.”
Crap.Was it me? I’d rubbed my arms and legs on some vines and bushes near where we’d left the truck, but I’d been sweating a little as I ran in the heat. I froze as Leroy stood, sniffing the air.
There wasn’t a single sound, not a leaf rustling, or a branch cracking. Just a voice I hadn’t heard in four years, calling out, “Is that my baby? I smelled… I smelled my baby.” And then a long, ghostly howl.
When I saw her, it felt like someone had punched me right in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think clearly. At the bottom of the tree stood a ghost. One that looked up and directly at me, her head tilted to one side, her long hair a tangled mess, and her clothing an odd assortment of patched-together hides.
I knew every angle of her face, every line. The hair was different, silver-gray instead of dark curls, but the scars that Callaway had put all over her were the same, crisscrossed silvered marks where her skin had never healed from the endless torture. And the madness in those eyes was exactly like I’d seen the last day I’d seen her, when she’d saved me from Trevor Blackside and warned me to run.
Trevor the toadfucker, who’d taunted me for years with stories of her death. She’d been thrown to the rogues, beggingand pleading, he’d said. They’d ripped into her… He’d described it in detail, over and over, just to see me flinch.
He hadn’t been lying, or… Maybe he hadn’t thought he was. She’d been attacked, been dragged off into the woods, but somehow, she’d survived.
Magic,a little voice reminded me. It was in our blood.
I could feel turbulence in my mate bonds, but I pushed it all aside, focusing on the bedraggled form that floated across the forest floor.Mama?I mouthed the word, but no sound came out. Not that anyone could have heard me.
At the base of the pine, Bo was hyperventilating, managing to squeak out, “G-G-Ghost Lady,” before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground.
His friend, to his credit, didn’t run away. Leroy grabbed hold of one of Bo’s limp arms and started dragging him off, begging, “P-please just let us leave. We ain’t babies; we won’t taste good, I swear it. We’re stringy and smelly, and?—”
She cackled, the sound straight out of an old cartoon, then started mumbling something that sounded like “stupid little fucks” before she whistled three notes—the “hey sweetie” call of a black-capped chickadee.
A barred owl answered back, and not five seconds later, an entire group of young male shifters poured into the area under the trees. They wore a combination of deer hides and sweatpants, no shoes at all, and every one of them had a beard as ragged as Mama’s hair.
Where the hell had they come from?
Leroy froze, staring at the group of rogues like he expected them to fall on him and Bo and chop them into stew meat. Instead, one of the males reached into a pocket, pulling out a handful of what looked like jerky. I thought he was going to hand it to Leroy, but he stuck it in his own mouth, gnawing at it, until a voice snapped out from a few yards away, “Duane, drop it.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the young guy barked out, letting the jerky fall to the ground. Leroy’s eyes followed it all the way down, and I thought he might have darted over to pick it up, but I had my eyes on the familiar man who had joined my mother and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Sergeant lifted his head, his eyes meeting my own wide ones. “Why don’t you come on down, Flor? Your mother would like to see you.” I glanced at Glen, who was shaking his head when Sergeant let out a dark chuckle. “You, too, Alpha Heir.”
Glen dropped down before I could, and jogged over to the base of my tree. My legs were weak as a baby lamb’s when I finally stood, facing the group. Glen was wary, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
The sword Sergeant had given me was strapped to my back and my steak knife sat at my waist, but they might as well have been left in the truck. I was so shocked at the scene in front of me, I couldn’t think.
“Mama?”
She looked up, sniffing, but there was no recognition in her dark eyes. “You’re not my baby.” She pulled away from Sergeant, moving around the area, dropping to sniff at the ground every so often, then moving on.
Two of the males I didn’t know followed behind her, and I took a breath to ask what was going on, but Sergeant shook his head. “They’ve doubled the patrols on this side of the hunting grounds over the past few days. We’ll talk in the cavern.”
“The what now?” I sputtered, but the group was already moving on.
Glen stood firm. “How can we trust you? You deserted your post. You were a part of the corruption at my pa—at Northern.”
Sergeant’s jaw ticked, but he dipped his chin once. “I did desert my post. But I was bound to a vow I made long before the promise I gave your father, Alpha Heir.”
“I’m not the Heir anymore,” Glen murmured. “I’m a rogue.”
Sergeant’s eyes shone. “Then we have that in common. I’m the Alpha of a whole pack of rogues, and I promise you’ll be safe when you’re with us. If you choose to come with us.” His gaze fell on me. “I vow to the moon that I will not harm you, or see you come to harm while you’re in my company.” His words rang with truth.
I could feel Glen’s hesitance, but I squeezed his arm. “Let’s go with him. We need to know what’s up before we head into the compound. Plus, he’s right. You’re both rogues. What’s he gonna do, turn you in?”
