Page 52 of Raised By Wolves

“Reckon they do.”

“Then ask them where their dogs were the other night, because a dog killed this sheep.”

“How do you know?” the chief asks, surprised.

I point to all the meat left on the animal, and to the puncture wounds dotting its side. “Because wolves would’veeatenit. Whoever killed your sheep wasn’t hungry. And those triangular wounds? Those are from golden eagles. Scavengers. Your killer went home and ate… what’s it called?Purina.”

“Bullshit,” Hardy says.

The chief’s staring at me, likeI thought I told you to keep your mouth shut.

I shrug. I never made any promises, did I? And I’m not going to let my friends take the blame for some runaway mutt. Especially not when the dead sheep belongs to the father of the two biggest assholes in high school.

But then Hardy laughs. “You think it wasn’t no wolf? I got something else to show you, then,” he says.

“Not another sheep, I hope,” the chief says.

“No sirree. I got the wolf who killed her.”

CHAPTER 37

I SWEAR MY heart stops.

The chief makes a strangled sound in his throat. “I don’t think we want to see that,” he says. “We can take your word for it.”

“But I did a real nice job skinnin’ him,” Hardy says. “Might make myself a fur coat.” He grins horribly. His teeth are yellow and crooked. I want to kick every last one of them down into his throat.

“I want to see,” I growl. Ihaveto see.

I need to know who it is.

Hardy looks so smug and ugly, I feel my fists clenching again. He stalks back toward the barn. “Come on, then,” he says over his shoulder.

My stomach’s knotted up and my feet feel like they’re made of lead. I know all the wolves around here, so my only hope is that this one’s a disperser—a wolf who left its pack to form a new one and ended up getting killed for it.

But you didn’t see Ernie the other night, Kai, did you?

I push the thought away.

The chief comes up alongside me. “I think you should go back to the car. Wait for me there.”

“No way.”

Now that my heart’s beating again, every thud of it hurts like a punch. But I tell myself that Ernie’s a wise wolf. He’s the alpha. Aloof, intelligent, strong. He wouldn’t let himself get killed by an idiot.

The chief reaches for my hand, grabs it, gives it a quick squeeze. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “No matter what.”

Of course I want him to be right. But why wasn’t Ernie with the pack? He wouldn’t have missed the chance to show off his beautiful babies, would he? When Bim and Ben were born, he strutted back and forth across the meadow, his tail waving like a flag.

Hardy yanks open the barn door. The smell of hay and manure rolls out. And there’s another smell I recognize.

Death.

“Right this way,” Hardy says. And he gives a mocking bow.

It’s dark in the barn. A few dusty shafts of light fall down through the cracks in the plank walls. The smell’s overpowering now. A lump rises in my throat.

“There he is,” Hardy says proudly. “Or what’s left of him, anyway.”

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