Page 27

27

Devon

Slinking through the forest’s underbrush, I try my best to stay hidden in the shadows. I need to leave Ivory Fangs before it’s too late. A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and I freeze, attempting to calm my rapidly beating heart while I try to sense the person who has been watching me. When I sense nothing, I breathe a sigh of relief and bolt to the right, hopefully getting closer to the edge of the pack’s territory.

Some time last night I had felt a pair of eyes watching my every movement. It was during dinner at the packhouse. Carolyn and I had just reported to Luan David what role we would like in Ivory Fangs, and we were plating up some dinner when I felt the prickling sensation of being watched wash over me. For a moment, I thought it was residual paranoia from dealing with Ramos up until that last phone call, but then that gaze followed me throughout dinner all the way to the guest house and well into the night. I knew by sunrise that the higher-ups in this pack had recognized my scent and suspected me.

Luckily for me, after hanging up on Ramos, I had packed a go bag. I had prepared to escape Ivory Fangs before anyone could catch me as a spy and be long gone before Ramos could send his army to attack his sister’s pack.

Another twig snaps, and for a moment, I catch a hint of mint and vanilla. I know that scent. It belongs to Lucas.

Fear takes hold of me, and for a moment, I wonder if I should shift to wolf form before he can catch up to me, but the magic of the pack barrier grows closer with each step, beckoning me like a moth to a flame. Freedom is close at hand—once I cross the pack line, I will be a free wolf able to find a pack I can trust and, hopefully, my mate.

Suddenly, something crashes into me from the left, the solid object—or person—sending me flying. My body crashes onto the forest floor, rolling once, twice, three times before my back smashes into the base of a sturdy tree. Everything aches, and I wince as I try to move. My arm must have been broken from the tumble.

A snarling black wolf stalks towards me, small yet visible scars along his face giving him a menacing aura. The wind blows past him and towards me, carrying his scent. Lucas stands before me, anger and hatred radiating off him in waves. Fear is all I feel, numbing the pain of my broken arm as I do my best to appear small and non-threatening in front of the angry black wolf.

“Lucas, back off,” a deep voice rumbles the command. The bushes behind the black wolf shake before a red-headed man walks out, a scowl on his face as he, too, glares at me.

“Is this the spy?” the redhead asks, and Lucas nods, sitting back on his haunches and watching me with narrowed eyes.

The two go silent for a moment, most likely mind-linking one another, before the redhead moves and hauls me to my feet. I scream, my arm reminding me that it was broken when Lucas tackled me earlier. The pain causes black spots to flash along my vision, and I question why my arm isn’t healing like it should be.

“Shut the hell up, scum,” the redhead snarls, his fingers holding onto my non-broken arm, digging into my skin. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet as the redhead begins to lead me—more like drag me—back towards the packhouse. Lucas follows behind us, his piercing gaze never straying from my back. I can feel his stare—like daggers waiting to be released from his hand and stab me in the back. I have a feeling that if I try to escape, he will attack me and leave me with only the inch of life I need to spill all my secrets.

The walk is long and agonizing, the anger from the two men being the only thing that keeps me awake and fighting the throbbing pain of my broken arm. Black spots still dance along my vision, threatening to take hold of me, but the fear of being killed keeps me from passing out.

The thought of shifting once again crosses my mind and for a moment, I will myself to shift, but nothing happens. Lucas snarls at me, his teeth nipping at my heels as if sensing what I was trying, and the redhead chuckles.

“He can’t shift Lucas, so calm down,” the redhead says, his gaze shifting to me briefly. “We poisoned him with wolfsbane when he was sleeping last night,” he adds, his green eyes darkening with the glare he throws my way.

Shit. I thought I’d been careful and stayed alert while those eyes watched me through the night. I was wrong, though. Somehow, the wolf who had been keeping tabs on me managed to sneak in and poison me with wolfsbane. It must be just enough that I wouldn’t be able to notice, but it explains my inability to heal properly and why I can’t shift.

Realizing that I hadn’t been careful enough when spying for Ramos, my head hangs low in shame. I’d been caught; there was no denying this fact. I thought I’d been careful and kept my scent concealed, but someone must have figured out who I was, as only a few days had passed since I came to Ivory Fangs.

“So, how did you know I was a spy?” I ask quietly, shuddering when Lucas lets out a low snarl.

“Lucas figured it out, actually. He recognized your scent from Oak Fur but was unsure if you were a spy. Trying to run away proved that you were indeed one,” the redhead answers honestly. “We guess Ramos sent you, and you’ll be telling us why.”

With that, the conversation ends, and as I am led closer to the packhouse, I begin to accept my fate. They’d suspected me because of my scent, and I’d stupidly proved them right by trying to leave. I should have waited a few more days and tried integrating into the pack before leaving.

I’d been too careless, too impatient, and too rash. Now, my glimpse of freedom is gone.