Page 19 of Wolf Heart

“Cause the witches aren’t near pack lands.” Dex strides after Raven. “They are in the cities and depend on their magic and the old buildings to keep them safe.”

I head forward after Raven and Dex with Aspen falling into step beside me. “There aren’t many of the lost ones left are there? I mean the chances of us running into any are slim.” Once I’d snuck out of the barrier with a few friends… back when it was too early for my wolf not emerging to be a problem… and we’d made it to one of the cities. I loaded up on magazines and books before we were caught by the hunting party the Alpha had sent out and brought us back.

The whole time, we hadn’t seen any monsters or anyone else. Yet my father had given me a stern lecture and then spanked me. It was the only time he’d ever laid a hand on me and had made me never want to disappoint him again.

My chest squeezes. What would he think about me now? Would he be disappointed like me and all the pack members that I hadn’t shifted by now?

“Most of the lost ones have gotten smarter,” Dex interrupts my thoughts. “It's hard for them to survive on their own. Wolves have packs, witches have covens. And the rest—”

I trip and swear, clutching the blanket to me. “Wait, are you saying the lost ones now are banded together?”

Dex shrugs. “Seems that way in the last few years. They're more efficient that way. Harder to kill all of them. Though, the wolves nearly eradicated them during the war."

"War?" My mouth falls open. I didn’t know there was a war. Didn’t know that many of the wolves fought off the humans without magic. I'm pretty sure a lot of them died. “There was a war and I never knew?”

Dex’s gaze slid away from me like he was avoiding my question and his long strides had him several feet ahead of me in seconds.

“Why?” I ask. “Why didn’t anyone in the pack tell me?"

When Dex doesn't answer me, I jog up to him and grab his elbow.

“Tell me what you’re talking about.”

He sighs and Raven looks over his shoulder at us both before continuing on.

"She needs to know." Aspen catches up with us, his icy blue eyes on me.

Shit, this is sounding worse than I thought.

"The lost ones took down a lot of pack members ages ago. They turned feral. And anyone bitten by them becomes like them. There is no cure, no magic that can save you.”

“That’s awful. Did you have any in your pack who weren’t changed?”

Raven’s eyes flash. “We made sure all those who were bitten were killed.”

“Did you try getting help from the witches? Wouldn’t it be better to save someone than see them die?” I ask, shocked by the venom in Raven’s tone. “Don’t you have any hope at all?”

“Hope has nothing to do with it.” He glares at me. “If you have one, you kill it before it can take over your mind and kill you.”

“Is that why the pack elders forbade anyone outside the barrier because of the danger of contamination?” The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. The pack hadn't given me a chance at all. They had sent me out expecting me to die— to become one of the lost ones.

“We’re all in danger,” Aspen says. “Wolves or not.”

We walk in silence for a while. I barely notice the change in the trees and undergrowth until the scent of decay turns my stomach. The taste of sulfur hits me on the back of my tongue next, and I gag. I tug the blanket closer and survey the land around us. Dead trees with bark scraped off from the ground to seven feet above me.

Dex stops next to me and places his finger over his lips.

He peeks into the shadow of the trees on the other side of the road. I crouch low, the desire to run pulsing in my chest like a second heartbeat.

The forest is silent except for the constant, subtle buzz of insects moving in the grass and leaves. A grey cloud of gnats moves through a ray of light that spills down onto the forest floor, like a spotlight illuminating an empty stage.

I don’t see anything, but there’s a sense of foreboding in me that I can’t ignore. My ears strain to hear anything against the soft silence that covers the forest.

Then I see them and bile rushes into my throat along with my heart. Mangy wolves lope toward us with bloodshot eyes and slobbering jaws. They skid to a stop at the edge of the clearing fifty feet from us and sniff the air. Their howls make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Shit,” I say, backing up. “They’ve spotted us.”

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