Page 75 of The Pack

She didn’t answer. Instead, she raised a rock in her small hand and brought it down hard against the side of my head.

Pain exploded through my skull, white-hot and blinding.

I staggered, my knees buckling as the world spun around me. Amelie’s face blurred, her skinny frame seeming impossibly large for a moment before darkness swallowed everything.

The last thing I heard was Magnus’s furious roar.

Fuck. My head hurt.

When I finally came to, the first thing I noticed was the pounding in my scalp and the damp smell of the earth all around me.

My arms felt heavy, my wrists sore, and when I opened my eyes, the soft crackle of a flickering campfire echoing off the rock walls surrounded me.

Where the fuck was I?

I took a quick look around and realized I was in a cave.

I blinked, trying to focus, but the world swam in and out of clarity all around me. The ground beneath me was rough and cold, littered with straw and scraps of fabric. Shapes moved in the distance—human shapes, hunched and wild, their voices low and guttural.

Memories came rushing back in a chaotic blur. The traps. The pack.Amelie.

I turned my head and saw her sitting by the fire, her tangled hair silhouetted by the flames. She was staring at me, her dark eyes wide with something between curiosity and maybe guilt.

“She’s awake,” she said softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

The figures moved closer, their shapes coming into much sharper focus. They were human—or at least, they had been once. Their clothes were little more than rags, their skin smeared with dirt and scars. Their eyes were sunken, their hair wild and matted, and they moved with an animalistic grace that sent a chill down my spine.

They didn’t speak.

Not words, at least. They grunted and growled, their guttural sounds filling the cave as they circled around me like wolves descending on their prey.

“She talks,” Amelie said, her voice trembling, but determined. “She’s like me.”

The murmurs quieted, the figures retreating slightly as a new presence entered the space. An old woman, her back hunched and her movements slow, shuffled into the light. Her gray hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her face was a map of wrinkles and scars.

Amelie stood and helped her to the fire, her small hands holding onto the older woman’s arm.

“She can talk, Grandmother,” Amelie said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and wonder.

The old woman’s dark eyes, sharp despite her age, fixed on me. She crouched slowly, leaning closer until her face was mere inches from mine.

“You can speak?” she asked, her voice raspy and uneven, as if it hadn’t been used in years.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely.

The woman’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a breathless sound of awe. “It’s been so long,” she murmured, her burning stare studying my face like she was memorizing every detail.

“What… what is this?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Who are you?”

The old woman sat back, her gaze never leaving mine.

“We are what’s left,” she said simply.

Her words sent a shiver down my spine.

“You’re human?” I asked.

---