Page 28 of Mated By the Pack
I carry my grief differently from my brothers. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt such a strong connection to The Tangle. Why I can hear it whispering back, and they can’t. But it’s never responded to me like it does to Calla. It seems to pulse with her heart, and when she falls asleep, there’s a noticeable quiet around us like The Tangle itself doesn’t want to disturb her.
Well, the plants, at least. I hear a crash in the distance. It draws my attention first, then Tansy hears it, too.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Trouble.”
I shift and sprint back to my camp. My brothers have heard it too, and they’re already shifting.
“Did you see what it was?”Gideon asks across our mental link.
“Something big,” I answer. “I doubt it’s friendly.”
My brothers and I move in pack silence, weaving through the underbrush like shadows. The scent of blood and rot clings to the air, but it’s not fresh. Whatever’s picked up the trail of Calla and the others isn’t moving with much speed.
We crest the ridge and freeze.
Below us, a swath of devastation cuts through The Tangle like a wound. Trees splintered. Undergrowth flattened. The ground trembles with every slow, thundering step of the thing leaving it behind.
“Gen-Brute,”Gideon says, transmitting the thought to us all. There’s a weight to his tone. Not fear, but recognition. A hint of respect, but mostly disgust.“Not many of those left.”
The creature moves through the forest like it’s too big for the world. A failed war machine—a trihybrid. One of few that were ever successfully engineered. Man. Ape. Boar. But what lumbers below us is more beast than anything they wrapped up in a uniform.
It walks on two bowed legs, its gait heavy and hunched, dragging one clawed hand like a club. The other arm swings wide with every step, swatting saplings like they’re grass. Its chest is a mat of black hair and scar tissue, and beneath its jutted jaw are two tusks as long as my arm that curve outward—yellowed, cracked, and coated in the remnants of something it devoured days ago. The stench hits even upwind.
It hasn’t fed in a while. That’s why it’s hunting now.
“We can’t lead it off,” Jace says through the link. “It’s locked on. Smells food. We’ll have to fight.”
Gen-Brutes were created after the government decided to unleash hybrids on the battlefield. After they stopped caring if other nations knew about the genetic horrors they had been creating. It was a mistake they regretted as soon as the bombs started falling on New York.
Gideon doesn’t hesitate. He announces our presence with a roar so deep it rattles my chest—and then he charges. The rest of us are right behind him.
We fan out as we descend, moving fast, our claws tearing into soft soil. The Gen-Brute stops mid-step and turns, confused by the sudden sounds. Its starved, bloodshot eyes dart. It realizes too late that it’s surrounded.
It bellows, swiping with its clawed hand. They are huge, crushing blows that shear bark from trees, but we’re faster.
Jace strikes first, his fangs slicing into the Gen-Brute’s calf. It howls. Knox follows from the opposite side, tearing into the other leg. The beast stumbles forward, swinging blindly. Caleb darts in, silent as always, and slashes at the back of its knee with surgical precision.
I lunge, sinking my teeth into its flank, feeling the muscle tear as I twist and rip free a bloody hunk. The copper taste floods my mouth. It’s hot and sour, like most trihybrids. There’s a reason we’ve never hunted them for food.
The Gen-Brute screams and lashes out, managing to clip Jace with a swipe that sends him skidding back into a tree, but he’s already pushing up again. He snarls and rushes forward. He’s scratched, but it isn’t a wound that will require medical treatment.
We keep moving—darting in, inflicting damage, backing off before it can land a serious hit. It’s slow, but strong. One lucky strike could kill one of us. But we’re not giving it the chance.
Caleb goes for the spine, Knox for the throat. I clamp down on its elbow joint and feel it pop, the arm going limp.
It stumbles into a tree with a crash, panting heavily, bleeding from a dozen deep wounds.
“I’ve got the kill,”Gideon growls across the link, his voice edged with something feral and final.
We part without hesitation.
Gideon barrels forward and crashes into the Gen-Brute’s chest. His teeth sink into the skin protecting the beast’s airway. He tears sideways with a roar, ripping a gory trench through the thick flesh.
The Gen-Brute convulses. One last gurgle echoes through The Tangle. Then stillness.
Gideon rises slowly, blood dripping down his teeth. His golden eyes blaze in the fading light as he turns to look at us. He shifts into human form and spits out pieces of the trihybrid. We shift as well, panting from the heat of battle.
“Good kill,” Gideon growls, wiping his mouth.
