Page 44 of The Weakest Wolf

When I realize how tightly I’m holding Sierra, I force myself to ease my grip.

Not even animals in the wild would do this.

I called them hyenas before. I even called them rabid. But what they’ve done here goes far beyond anything I’d expect from a wolf or a man.

Spinning on my heel, I leave a cabin that’s unfit for an animal, much less a human.

I stalk toward the farmhouse, ignoring the twitching curtains in the cabins I pass along the way.

11

SIERRA

The scents of new leather and wild forest warn me that I’m not alone.

The firm mattress beneath my naked body gives me a big hint to where I might be. It’s not on the hard ground outside the laundry cabin where my last memory is of Tera sitting on my chest while everyone took turns punching me in the face. And it’s not my bed because my mattress stopped being this firm four years ago.

My eyes flutter open.

I take in Galen, sitting in a familiar dining room chair. It’s like a flashback from when he first turned up, except he’s wearing clothes and I’m the naked one.

Behind him is a large window with the curtains pulled closed, but not all the way. There’s enough light creeping in from the edges for me to guess it’s later in the day.

Maybe it’s early evening, which would make it at least a couple of hours after the pack ambushed me in the laundry cabin.

“If you think this will get you what you want, it won’t.”

There’s a price for anything and everything in the Stone pack.

Nothing ever comes for free.

Galen uncrosses his arms and rises from the chair.

I flinch.

Not that I thought I would, but the pack has already beaten me to a pulp, so I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of going through that again. At least not on the same day.

He pauses for a beat, his eyes on my face. And without a word, he spins on his heel and stalks out of the room, leaving the door open.

Uh, okay. Not what I was expecting.

As I debate the merits of staying versus getting out of a comfortable bed that smells like Galen, I run out of time, because his footsteps tell me he’s on his way back.

Maybe with the weapon he went for.

I start to sit up. Everything south of my face screams at me to lie back down.

So I lie back down.

Okay, so I guess I’m waiting for Galen to come and kill me, then.

But the moment he appears in the doorway, I know it isn’t to kill me. Unless he plans on drowning me in whatever he has in the bowl on his tray.

Chicken and vegetable soup.

And it smells amazing.

I guess there are worse ways to go.

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