Page 13 of Pack Rage
Mom’s hand tightened in mine once more before she slid into sleep. Then Sergeant and I slipped out the door. Glen was waiting right outside, next to the guards who noddedrespectfully. I grabbed Glen’s hand as we left the Pack House, Sergeant on my other side.
“Do you need some privacy?” Sergeant asked gruffly. “Time to… What do they say these days? Process?”
I almost smiled, but then thought about it. I needed to get outside, out to the trees. But for once, I didn’t need to be alone. “No. I’d rather walk with you. I have so many questions.”
“I have a few myself. Let’s walk and talk.”
We were silent for the first few minutes, though I was taking in everything. The work crews were cleaning up the battle, and pitching tents close to the training field for the Mountain troops that would start arriving the next day. But there was an almost palpable tension when Sergeant, Glen, and I got closer to the groups that were made up mostly of Southern shifters. As if they were afraid of one of us, though I wasn’t sure which one. The women and rogues, on the other hand, seemed to relax. Like they wanted us close for some reason.
They didn’t feel safe here. I didn’t blame them.
Even without an attack from outside its borders, Southern wouldn’t feel safe to anyone as it was. There were too many bad memories here for some, and no Alpha to guide the rest.
They needed Luke… or someone.
I stared at Sergeant’s profile in the light, then his scars. The patterns were almost hypnotic, and I knew some of them told a story. “Tell me about your tattoos?”
“My scars, you mean?” He held up an arm, and we slowed. “My camouflage. My sister—your grandmother—did most of them before she left our pack’s borders. She was always a great artist, and had a firm grasp on her magic and her wolf’s power, until her mate died. She helped me hide my… well, my magical signature, if that makes sense, from shifters and witches alike.”
“Why?”
“The pack had dwindled to a few dozen males, maybe sixty women, and only a handful of younger ones. There was no future Alpha besides me, and I wouldn’t lead them in the way they decided to go.” He let out a long, shuddering breath. “I couldn’t. Our Alpha had been killed at the Betrayal, along with many of the other males in his line. The surviving Alpha Mothers were the ones who decided to ally with the Russians, and go to war. When I wouldn’t join them, they declared me an enemy of the pack and gave an order to hunt me.”
I gasped. I knew what it was to be hunted by my own pack. But to be hunted by a pack who had magic was even more terrifying. “How did you escape? Do you… did you use magic?”
He ran his fingers absently over one forearm. “I couldn’t. The markings I bear stifle my magic almost completely. But they also make it nearly impossible to track me using spells. I only had to make certain no one got close enough to sniff me or see me, and recognize who I was. Brand’s grandmother found me sneaking across the border of Mountain.” He grinned. “I thought for sure I was dead. She was terrifying.”
I laughed. “Grandma Ida?”
He shivered. “That woman may be small, but it’s dangerous to underestimate the small ones. And her wolf is the size of a fucking pony.”
I snorted, but Glen was nodding. “It’s true.Hugewolf. I almost pissed myself the one time I saw her shift.”
When I got hold of myself, Sergeant went on. “The powerful women of that pack were the ones who allowed me to cross through their lands, keeping it secret from the males. They gave me a letter to take to Northern and, well, you know the rest.”
Glen whistled low. “You were in hiding from your old pack, all that time. I used to wonder why you never came to Conclaves, why no one seemed to know much about you. Hell, no one even knew your name.”
Sergeant chuckled. “For the longest time, other than your grandfather, no one thought to ask.” He lifted his left sleeve, revealing a swirling pattern that looked like a labyrinth, with a scar running through it. “That particular spell of my sister’s was handy, though it stopped working when it got cut with a silver Russian blade near the end of the war.”
I wasn’t sure how to ask the question that was bugging me. “You never saw anyone you knew… across the battlefield?”
“I did, Flor.” He swallowed and stared out into the forest, his expression haunted. “I just made sure that if they saw me, I killed them. Even the males I’d grown up with.”
“Your friends?”
“They were trying to kill me as well. I’d given my allegiance to Northern, and I was a traitor to my own pack.” He put a hand over his heart, like it ached. “I gave up my magic and my family. All I had left was my honor… until you walked into the training yard, and I saw my little Lily’s eyes in your face.”
We stopped, all of us lost in our own thoughts, staring into the forest, in the direction of the cave. I wasn’t sure what they were thinking about, but my mind was whirling. Planning what came next.
I had a bad feeling about Brand going into Eastern. But something told me the only way out of this mess was by striking at the heart of the evil. That meant going to the Council, to Finnick’s parents, along with all of my mates. I wasn’t sure what we could do once we were there, but the first problem was getting in.
Going with an army meant almost certain death for Brand. But sneaking into a well-defended pack, one that used technology as well as magic?
It would be so much easier if we had magic of our own. I didn’t have any, from what I could tell. My wolfcraft and witchcraft powers were both on the blink.
I turned my head to the side and stared at Sergeant’s arms, thinking about the books I’d read, about his journal. “I’m not sure I could give up magic, if I had it.”
“You never showed any signs?” Sergeant asked. I shook my head, and he grunted. “Well, you’re still an incredible fighter. You don’t need it.”
