Page 34 of Mated By the Pack
“You don’t have to do this,” Gideon says, more calmly than I’d like. “We’ll die for her.”
Gideon has too muchwein his words for my liking, but while I’m not ready to die for the same thing he is, I won’t abandon my brothers. I growl and take a step forward, sizing up the Gen-Lion and watching him carefully. If he makes a move toward Gideon, I’ll go for his throat. It’s risky and could cost me my life, but it’ll give my brother a chance to shift.
Frank tenses up, snarls, then he relaxes. He shakes his head and looks back at the group of terrified men, all nervously grasping weapons I’m sure they’re hoping they don’t have to use.
“Carl, I’m done.” Frank turns and walks away from us. I step to the side to give him a path, but stay alert. “Keep the fucking money.”
“Frank? What the fuck? Where are you going?” Carl demands, jerking his rifle toward us in a panic.
“New Chicago,” Frank growls. “To find the Pride without a king. That’s whatshetold me to do. I’m finally ready to listen.”
Frank disappears into The Tangle, leaving a trail of devastation before he finds his silent rhythm.
“Frank! Frank! Come back!” Carl yells.
“Kill them,” Gideon calls out as he shifts. “All of them.”
We don’t hesitate. Jace takes the first throat, leaps off the body as it falls to the ground, and lands on another slaver’s back. I see the bones of the man’s spine as they’re ripped through the flesh, but I see one taking aim at Gideon, so I make sure he never gets a chance to fire. My jaws clamp around the arm balancing the gun and I rip. His weapon goes in one direction and his arm in the other. He screams as he stumbles into the underbrush, already mortally wounded.
I look around and see my brothers in a sea of pack efficiency and the fragile chaos of humans meeting their end. Carl fires off a few shots, but they’re wild and only hit bark. He stumbles back into the underbrush and makes a break for it. Another tries to follow their leader, but Gideon catches him mid-sprint and slams him into a tree so hard the bark explodes in a ring around the impact. The man’s body slumps with several convulsions that confirm he’s dead or close enough.
The clearing is red beneath our paws. The screams have died out. All I can hear are agonizing wails and the last gasps of dying men.
“The leader got away,”I say across our mental link.
“After him,”Gideon replies, dashing in the direction Carl fled.
We scatter like ghosts and give chase. It doesn’t take us long to catch up with Carl. He sprints into the thick of The Tangle, crashing through underbrush, panting like an animal being chased down for slaughter. That’s exactly what he is now. The only semblance of humanity left is fear and desperation, but they won’t help him now.
Trees, vines, and carnivorous plants make his escape even more difficult. They don’t avoid him, like they seem to do with the girls. Carl trips, stumbles, and loses his rifle, but he doesn’t stop to retrieve it. He keeps running, his frantic breathing and the twigs snapping beneath his feet painting a trail even a blind wolf could follow.
We toy with him, herding him left, then right, until he’s right back where he started—staring at the bodies of the men he led to their deaths. He trips over what’s left of a slaver. Half a ribcage, entrails tangled with roots, boots still on twitching legs. The Tangle has already sent a length of spikeshade to devour the fresh meat.
Carl groans, but tries to keep moving. We form a circle and close in. He spins in every direction, realizing he’s trapped.
“G-good dogs—wolves,” he mutters, swallowing hard as he walks backwards and pulls a knife from his belt. “I mean you no harm. Really. I’ll go, just like Frank did! You can have the girls! You don’t even have to pay for them!”
Gideon shifts first. Bones cracking, skin stretching, fur retracting. It happens so fast it looks instantaneous. It wasn’t like that in the early days, before we truly learned to call our wolves.
Carl is no longer a danger, even with the knife trembling in his hand, so the rest of us shift, too. I’m not sure which is more intimidating to the slaver—five wolves with muzzles still wet from the kill, or five naked men, wearing his men’s blood like war paint.
“No,” Gideon says firmly. “The world will be a lot better without you in it.”
“Fucking parasite,” Jace growls.
We close in on the slaver and fear flourishes in his eyes.
We don’t give him the mercy of a scream.
The Tangle can have what’s left of him after we’re done.
CHAPTER 10
Calla
The peace doesn’t last. The sounds of death split the air and remind us exactly where we are.
We’re still in The Tangle. Far from home. Nara can travel, but she’s still recovering from her wounds. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have any ongoing issues from the concussion, other than fatigue. Fiona and Tansy are scared to death—we all are, even if some of us are just better at hiding it. Brenna is trying to be courageous, but she seems to realize the sharp stick she’s clutching won’t save us if the noises get closer.
