Page 9 of Feral, Part Two (Wolfscorge #2)

Kael

I stand up slowly, my knees protesting after sitting on the floor for so long.

When I turn back to look at Thane and Malik, both of them are staring at me with expressions I can't quite read.

Surprise, maybe. Or disbelief. Like they've just witnessed something they never expected to see. Frankly, I never expected to say any of those words to Slate, so I’m just as surprised.

Malik is the first to break the silence, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Alpha, I had no idea you had those sweet words in you."

A growl rumbles up from my chest before I can stop it, irritation flaring up at his teasing tone. The last thing I need right now is commentary on how I handled the situation with Slate. I'm still trying to process what the fuck just happened myself.

Thane steps forward, his expression more serious than Malik's. "Cousin, leave your shirt with them."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"I know it's not a nest," Malik explains, already reaching for the hem of his own shirt, "but they'll want your scent. And since both of our Omegas are in there, this seems like the room we'll be hanging out in."

He strips out of his shirt in one fluid motion, the fabric hitting the floor just outside the den. Thane follows suit, pulling his shirt over his head and adding it to the collection.

I grumble under my breath, not thrilled about the idea, but I can see the logic in what they're saying.

I pull my shirt off and leave it at the edge of the den, Slate watching us, his dark eyes tracking our movements with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

There's something almost predatory about the way he's observing us, like he's cataloging information for later use.

Before I can fully process what's happening, he reaches forward and grabs onto my sock. His fingers wrap around the fabric with surprising strength, and I just stare at him, trying to understand what he's doing.

Then he tears it off my foot in one quick motion, the cotton stretching and ripping under the force of his grip.

A sigh falls from my lips, a chuckle coloring the sound.

Slate’s primal need for his Alpha’s scent is still there, regardless of our actual relationship.

I throw him a small smile before heading down the hallway and into Preston’s room, his nest haphazardly deconstructed.

Thane and Malik follow in silence, Thane falling into the chair by the window as Malik leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me start to pace.

"I know Nathan talked about how we'd all be changing too," I say finally, voicing the thoughts that have been churning in my head, "but I didn't expect it to be this fast."

Thane snorts. "Really? Because Preston looked like he was about to pop just now. Their bodies are already preparing for delivery, which means we'd be changing just as fast."

He's right, of course. The accelerated timeline of the Omegas' pregnancies should have been our first clue that whatever's happening to us isn't following normal biological rules. If they're changing at an impossible rate, then it makes sense that we would be too.

"I get that..." I start, but Malik's laughter cuts me off.

"You're just weirded out that your saliva healed Slate's hands, aren't you?" he asks, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "How did you know to do that?"

"I didn't know. It was just... I just did it."

There was no conscious decision, no moment of realization that I could heal him.

I saw the blood on his knuckles and my body reacted.

Like some primal instinct had taken over, driving me to tend to my Omega's wounds in the most direct way possible.

The problem is that no ordinary human should be able to do that.

I’m guessing it has something to do with Ferals, but I’m not ready to look into all that bullshit yet.

I sigh and move to the dresser, pulling out a fresh shirt and throwing similar ones to Thane and Malik. Our Beta catches his shirt but doesn't put it on immediately. "When did we start being modest here?"

I snort, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Ever since I caught you sneaking eyes at my cousin. As excited as I am to see him take you apart, Leek..."

Thane starts laughing as he slips into his shirt, the sound dying abruptly when he accidentally knocks something off the nightstand with his elbow.

He frowns as he takes in the small bin that scattered its contents on the floor, my heart in my throat at what he’s about to find.

I keep quiet, though, wondering what he’ll do when he sees it.

Thane scoops everything back in, pausing when he catches sight of the small wooden box his mother sent almost a year ago.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Thane mutters, picking up the box and turning it over in his hands.

Malik moves forward, squinting at the intricate carving on the lid. "Isn't that one of your mom's pieces?"

Thane nods slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker. "I thought I threw this bullshit out." He looks over at me, the question clear in his dark eyes.

"That was one of the few things Wolfscorge let in here," I explain. "I knew you might regret trying to get rid of it at some point, so I just kept it."

"Seriously?" Thane's eyebrows shoot up, surprise replacing the anger I expected.

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "She was the only really nice authority figure we had. I never opened it, but I didn’t really want to chuck it either. I thought if there was anyone you would forgive, it would be her."

Thane's mother had been the closest thing either of us had to unconditional love growing up, even if she was caught up in the same corrupt system that eventually destroyed our lives.

When she left his father, Thane had been so fucking mad at her for not doing more to help us that he'd wanted to burn everything she left behind.

A deep laugh rumbles through Thane’s chest, but there’s no humor in the sound. "I was supposed to open it over a year ago when it got here, but I was so done with her, The Collective, everything. Now, I'm curious."

He works the latch open, the lid flipping back to reveal a collection of items I can't quite make out from where I'm standing. Thane just stares at the contents, his face going pale.

"I’m not fucking reading that," he says, his voice strained.

I move closer and take what appears to be a folded envelope from his trembling hands. The paper is yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. As I unfold it, I see his mother's familiar handwriting sprawled across the middle, Thane’s name written in fancy cursive letters.

But it's not just the envelope. There's a small notepad tucked beneath it, filled with what looks like his father's cramped handwriting. My eyes scan the pages, picking out details that make my blood run cold.

At the top of one page, there are five names written in Latin: Vulpis, Ursus, Belbus, Serpens, Corvus, and Hydra.

I read them aloud, the foreign words feeling heavy on my tongue. "Vulpis, Ursus, Belbus, Serpens, Noctua, Hydra." I just make out the last word and then realize someone tried to scratch it out. “Actually, the last one is Draconis.”

Malik tilts his head, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Those are animal names in Latin, I’m pretty sure. Although, I’m not sure those are all the right words. Not that I'm great with Latin, but I know the first one is fox, and then maybe bear? Hydra is like a mythical creature so…"

"So are shifters technically. There's just no fucking way," I mutter, but even as I say it, I know we're looking at something much bigger than we realized.

Thane reaches into the box again and pulls out something else—a few old pamphlets, their covers faded and worn. "Apparently, we're supposed to be a fucking attraction."

"Like a zoo?" Malik asks, his voice tight with disbelief.

Thane flips through the pamphlets, his expression growing darker with each page. "Based on these fucking things? Yes. And worse, we really are just the first."

I grab one of the pamphlets from his hands, scanning the text. The clinical language describes different "specimens" and their unique characteristics. There are sections on breeding programs, behavioral studies, and something called "controlled pack dynamics."

"No one is going to create a fucking bear," I spit out.

Thane looks up at me, his eyes hard with a mixture of fury and fear. "And yet they've created a fox."

My hands shake as I continue reading through the documents. There are detailed notes about psychological conditioning, surgical procedures for bond removal and replacement, and something called "accelerated pregnancy protocols" that makes my stomach turn.

"They're not just studying us," I realize aloud. "They're perfecting the process. Learning how to create more Ferals, but I don’t think we’re supposed to be an attraction. The Collective isn’t that… I don’t know. It doesn’t really fit with everything else they’ve done.

” I drag a hand through my hair, running through a thousand different ideas and coming up empty.

“Every single pack in Wolfscorge is part of this experiment. It makes sense. Take hardened criminals off the street and out of jail. No one cares what happens to them, just so long as they aren’t out in public.

Whatever happens in here doesn’t concern anyone else because we don’t mean anything to anyone.

They wouldn’t suddenly make us an attraction. It doesn’t make sense.”

Malik steps closer to me, landing a soft hand on my arm. “What did his mother’s letter say?”

I glance over at Thane, who shoots me a small nod. I tear open the envelope and study the very few words staring back at me. I flip it over and then back to the words, wondering if the woman really only sent this piece of shit.

“Thane, I wish I could do more. I’m sorry. I hope the notepad will mean something to you. Love, Mom.” I chuck the letter onto the dresser, trying to swallow the sudden rage billowing beneath the surface. “I take it back. Fuck that woman. I wish I could do more. She sounds like she fucking knew .”

Thane leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his stomach.

“Kael, she did know. She came to visit me when we were in jail, telling me that we’d be going to a better place, that we’d be able to make our own ending.

She said Dad had pulled some strings. She knew.

It’s one of many reasons I didn’t want to open that fucking box.

But now? Yeah, she gave us a clue. Maybe she had a change of heart, but she fucking knew that Wolfscorge was The Collective’s own petri dish and she didn’t do anything about it. ”

And just like that, a woman I admired and respected is lumped into the rest of the bastards running The Collective.