JULIAN WANTS YOU DEAD
1134 Words
My eyes snapped fully open and I tried to sit up, but my body refused to cooperate. Fresh pain drove me back down with a strangled cry. I managed to turn my head, though, enough to see them.
Wolves. Maybe six or seven, forming a loose circle around where I lay. But not like any pack wolves I'd ever seen.
These were the broken ones.
One was missing an ear, the scarred tissue twisted and ugly where it had been torn away. Another had a ruined eye, the socket empty and puckered. A third limped badly, its front leg bent at an unnatural angle that had never healed right. Scars covered them all—claw marks, bite wounds, burns, whip scars. The marks of wolves who'd been chewed up by the world and spit back out.
They watched me with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. Not hostile, exactly. But not friendly either. Waiting to see what I was, what I represented. Prey or problem or something else entirely.
A woman stepped through the circle.
She was human-shaped but moved like her wolf was right beneath her skin, ready to emerge. Maybe forty, with gray-streaked hair pulled back in a severe braid. She limped heavily, her right leg dragging slightly with each step. When she got close enough, I could smell the wrongness in her wolf—damaged, crippled, unable to fully manifest.
She crouched down, studying me with eyes that had seen too much. "Well," she said, her voice rough but carrying authority. "You're either very brave or very stupid, jumping off that cliff."
I tried to speak but only managed a weak cough. Water came up, burning my throat.
"Probably stupid," she continued, almost conversationally. "Brave people plan their escapes better." She tilted her head. "But Julian's trackers were chasing you. I saw them up on the cliff, screaming their frustration when you jumped. So maybe desperate is the right word."
I finally found my voice. "Who... are you?"
"Someone deciding whether you're worth the trouble of keeping alive." She stood, addressing the wolves around us. "Bind her."
"Wait—" I tried to struggle as hands grabbed me, but I was too weak. Too broken. Rough rope wrapped around my wrists, then my ankles. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but secure enough that I wasn't going anywhere.
"Julian's people want her dead," the woman said, her voice carrying across the group. "Which means she is valuable to us."
"How do you figure?" one of the wolves called out—a man with burn scars covering half his face.
The woman smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "Because anything Julian wants is worth denying him. And anyone running this hard from the Iron Claw Pack either knows something useful or did something worth knowing about."
She looked down at me again, her expression unreadable. "Besides, she survived that river. That takes something. Might be strength. Might be pure dumb luck. Either way, she's more interesting alive than dead."
"What if she brings trouble?" another voice asked.
"She's already trouble just by existing." The woman crouched down again, close enough that I could see the old pain etched into every line of her face. "The question is whether she's the useful kind or the disposable kind. We'll find out."
"Please," I whispered. "I have nowhere else to go."
"No," she agreed quietly. "You don't. Which is why you're going to answer every question I ask, completely and honestly. And then we'll decide if you die today or tomorrow."
She straightened and gestured to the others. "Get her up. Carefully. She's no good to us if she bleeds out before we get answers. Take her to the camp."
Hands grabbed me—not gently, but not cruelly either. They hauled me upright and I bit back a scream as my damaged ribs protested. Everything swam. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.
Stay conscious, Nyx begged. We have to stay conscious. We have to...
But the darkness was stronger than both of us.
I caught glimpses as they carried me. Rocky hillside. Hidden entrance. The smell of smoke and bodies and desperation. Voices arguing. Someone saying "another mouth to feed" while someone else said "potential information."
Then nothing.
When I came back, I was lying on cold stone with rough rope still binding my wrists and ankles. My body was a symphony of pain, each breath a reminder of what the river had done to me.
But I was alive.
Against all odds, against all logic, I was still alive.
For now, a dark part of my mind whispered.
The woman from before stood nearby, talking in low tones with other scarred figures. Planning. Debating. Deciding my fate with all the casual attention of people choosing what to have for dinner.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Kael. About whether Darius had killed him or just left him broken in that cave. About whether his last thought was regret for trying to help a runaway Luna who'd brought nothing but trouble.
I tried not to think about the baby inside me, miraculously still alive despite everything, growing in a body that couldn't protect it. Couldn't even protect itself.
I tried not to think about how I'd survived this long only to end up bound and broken in a camp of exiles who had every reason to hate someone like me.
But all I could think about was how tired I was.
How much I wanted to just stop. Stop running. Stop fighting. Stop being afraid.
How much I wanted someone, anyone, to help me for reasons that weren't selfish or cruel.
The woman turned and looked at me, and her expression was impossible to read.
"She's awake," she announced to the camp.
Wolves gathered around me, forming a circle. Waiting. Watching. Some with pity in their eyes. Some with hunger. Most with nothing at all—just the blank acceptance of people who'd learned that nothing was fair and mercy was a luxury.
The woman limped forward until she stood directly over me.
"Welcome to the Broken Wolves," she said. Her voice carried no warmth, no welcome, despite the words. "My name is Senna. I used to be Luna of the River's Edge Pack until I was thrown away like garbage when my wolf got crippled."
She crouched down, bringing her face level with mine.
"Now I lead here. And you're going to tell me everything. Who you are. Who you're running from. And why Julian Crest wants you badly enough to send his three best trackers into the wildlands.”
Her eyes were hard as stone, cold as winter.
"And deending on your answers, I'll decide whether you live long enough to see tomorrow's sunrise.”
- Writer
