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CHAPTER 9

K nox

I let out a sigh as I sit down to rest.

We’ve been running ahead, doubling back, and fighting everything we couldn’t lead away since Calla and her companions started their trek across The Tangle.

Why? Because she’s apparently different from other humans. She might not even be human—not entirely. Whatever she is, she’s got Gideon worked into a frenzy and while Jace is trying to hide it, I can tell it’s impacting him too. I should be next, if it’s following the natural hierarchy, but the only thing I feel is disdain.

We’ve lost brothers and sisters to The Tangle. After we lost Silas, we swore that we’d make decisions as a family. As a pack. When I made that agreement, I never imagined my brothers going crazy and losing their minds. Leading us right into danger, instead of choosing to avoid it, like we agreed.

Caleb walks up beside me and shifts into human form. Gideon and Jace are closer to the oasis we herded the women to, trying to learn more about their prize. Vance is scouting ahead, probably talking to the fucking trees or whatever he does when he tries to communicate with these cursed weeds.

“Still not buying it?” Caleb asks, his gaze lingering on Gideon and Jace.

Caleb doesn’t talk to our brothers very often, but he talks to me. Probably because he realizes I’m the most levelheaded one, even if I’m the first to leap into battle when there’s a good reason to fight.

“No,” I grunt. “We’ve been roaming The Tangle for a long fucking time. If we were going to find a mate… if such a thing was even possible… it shouldn’t have taken us this long to find one.”

“The scientists at Haven North could have experimented on her,” Caleb offers. “Infused her with wolf DNA, like they did with our parents.”

“I’ve considered that,” I reply, nodding. “Haven North has come a long way since the walls went up, but I don’t think they have access to that kind of technology. Not yet. They’ve got an electrical grid, but they would need a lot more power than that to do genetic experiments like they were doing before the Great War.”

“It’s a fucking breeding colony,” Caleb growls. “I’m sure they’ve made it a priority.”

“Maybe, but we can smell other wolves, especially hybrids,” I mutter. “I can’t even get her scent. I can practically taste the despair radiating from the other four, but not her. It’s like she isn’t even there.”

“Just so you know,” Caleb sighs. “I’m not going to talk to you anymore if you start acting like Gideon and Jace—or Vance, even though he’s always been weird.”

“Are you ever going to be ready to talk to them?” I ask, glancing at my brother. “I know you blame them for what happened to Silas, but we were all there.”

“It’s not just Silas. It’s everything.” Caleb shakes his head angrily. “I’m tired, Knox. Tired of fighting. Tired of this fucking wilderness. Tired of wondering which brother I’ll bury next. Hell, maybe it’ll be me. That would be a relief.”

“Don’t say that, brother,” I growl, then force a smile. “You really want to leave me alone with two feral wolves and a guy who talks to plants? You’re the only sane one left.”

“We could do what we talked about,” Caleb says. “Disappear into The Tangle. Go to New Chicago. Try to pass as humans for a while and see if we can learn to be men again, instead of beasts.”

“That’s fantasy, Caleb,” I sigh. “Like all those people who used to spend their money on lottery tickets before the Great War. We could never abandon our brothers, even if they’re being more irrational than they usually are.”

“I know,” Caleb answers. “I fucking know.”

I catch Vance’s scent and turn in his direction. Caleb moves away from me and folds his arms across his chest. Vance is moving too fast for it to be good news. Here we go again.

“What’s the rush?” I grumble as Vance skids to a stop and shifts into human form.

“Caleb, go get Gideon and Jace,” Vance pants. “Slavers are coming. The guy who was in charge, and it looks like he’s got reinforcements—including the Gen-Lion.”

“Fuck!” I roar, turning to see Caleb disappear into the underbrush mid-shift. “How long until they make it to us?”

“The Gen-Lion has their scent, so it won’t be long. They’re covering ground a lot faster than Calla and the others,” Vance hurriedly explains.

We’re going to have to fight a Gen-Lion. Again. The memories of our last battle with a fearsome lion-hybrid still haunt me. It’s been a long time since we’ve encountered one. I started to believe they were extinct, although I haven’t been eager to meet something in The Tangle that could handle one of them—much less more than one.

Class-1 hybrids are more beast than man. Mutated, menacing, and powerful. Their offspring are different. Stronger, faster, and more cunning, blending beast and man into something more threatening than either. Gen-Lions were the pinnacle of those genetic experiments before they switched over to Class-2 hybrids.

Gideon darts by with our other brothers on his heels. I shift and bring up the rear, just like always. I can sense the tension in the pack’s movements. None of us are eager to fight a Gen-Lion. There’s a good chance some of us won’t survive it, and without Silas, this may be our last stand.

We reach a ridge and drop low. Vance wasn’t exaggerating. The slavers didn’t just bring backup, they brought a war party. At least a dozen men, armed, armored, and itching for blood. They’re not the problem. Bullets sting, but we can kill them all before they can get clean shots due to our speed.

The Gen-Lion is the problem. He moves behind them, slow and silent, but he’s clearly the one directing them toward the girls.

“We have no choice but to attack them directly,” Gideon says across our mental link. “We’ll take out the men first, then we’ll deal with the Gen-Lion.”

“New Chicago is sounding really good about now,” Caleb transmits, but only to me.

This is going to be brutal. Our parents were Class-2 hybrids. Weaker than Class-1 hybrids, but that was by design. Once the scientists realized how much stronger the offspring were than the parents, they started with a lower baseline. We were supposed to be the bridge, not the weapon. Our grandchildren and great-grandchildren were what they were after, but when the world was plunged into war, they had no choice but to send us into battle.

We blended in with the other soldiers, fought by their side, and most never knew what was simmering below the surface. We didn’t fully understand it back then, either. Still don’t—not entirely. The scientists certainly never intended for the beasts inside us to roar to life, like they did after the solar flare decimated the world.

“He’s catching our scent,” Jace growls across our mental link. “We have to move now!”

The time for pack silence is over.

We explode from the underbrush, fanning out like shadows with fangs. No warning. No mercy. Before the Gen-Lion even turns his head, five men are dead—throats torn, chests shredded, hot blood spraying across our muzzles. We spit out hunks of twitching meat and let their bodies crumble into the dirt.

The rest panic, stumbling over each other to draw weapons. Dirt kicks up in a choking haze. Screams rip through the air.

“Frank! Deal with these wolves!” one of the men shouts, voice cracking as he raises his rifle.

We move too fast for him to aim.

The Gen-Lion is in motion now. He leaps in a blur of muscle and purpose. His heavy frame slams down onto the cart, metal and ironwood groaning under his weight. He scans the scene with cold efficiency—then sprints into the fray, landing directly between Gideon and the rest of us.

We sever our way through several men on our way to our brother, dodging the bullets that are finally starting to fly as we weave through leaves and dust. A few rounds graze fur, but none of them draw blood.

“Wait!” Frank roars. “They’re not feral. They’re attacking us for a reason!”

A few more shots ring out, but then the remaining men retreat, clustering behind the Gen-Lion like cubs.

Caleb and I each take a side, leaving Gideon, Jace, and Vance in front. We’ve used this tactic before. As soon as the Gen-Lion makes a move toward one of us, we’ll encircle him. He’s faster than the last one we fought—we’re a little faster, but there’s a good chance most of us won’t survive this fight, no matter how fast we move.

I sure as fuck hope she’s worth it, because I’ll be burying more of my brothers today, if I’m not in the ground beside them.

“You’re protecting them, aren’t you?” Frank deduces, still not making the aggressive move we’re waiting for. “You were following us to The Outpost. I thought I caught the scent of wolves, but yours is different.”

Gideon glances at the rest of us, then he shifts. I growl angrily. What the fuck is he doing? Now isn’t the time for talk. If the Gen-Lion attacks before Gideon can shift back, my brother won’t survive long enough to regret it.

“We are different,” Gideon says, his golden hair shimmering down his shoulders.

“Holy shit!” one of the men yells. “Did that wolf just turn into a man?”

“Shifters,” Frank grinds out. “I’ve heard of your kind. Rumors on the wind. But if the rumors are true, then your pack is much smaller than it used to be, and you don’t have the numbers to take me down without paying a heavy price.”

“It’s a price we’re willing to pay,” Gideon replies.

“For her?” Frank asks. “Do you even know what she is?”

“Our mate,” Gideon growls, taking a step forward. “The one who can save our pack.”

“She is my property!” a man yells. “They all are! Frank, stop wasting time! Kill these fucking wolves or whatever they are so we can catch up to them before you lose their scent.”

Frank looks conflicted. He glances at the man giving orders and then turns his attention back to us. A guttural growl echoes like he’s readying himself, so we do the same.

Everyone except Gideon, at least.

“Shift, Gideon!” I yell, even though our mental link doesn’t work when he’s in human form. “Now!”

“You don’t have to do this,” Gideon says, more calmly than I’d like. “We’ll die for her.”

Gideon has too much we in his words for my liking, but while I’m not ready to die for the same thing he is, I won’t abandon my brothers. I growl and take a step forward, sizing up the Gen-Lion and watching him carefully. If he makes a move toward Gideon, I’ll go for his throat. It’s risky and could cost me my life, but it’ll give my brother a chance to shift.

Frank tenses up, snarls, then he relaxes. He shakes his head and looks back at the group of terrified men, all nervously grasping weapons I’m sure they’re hoping they don’t have to use.

“Carl, I’m done.” Frank turns and walks away from us. I step to the side to give him a path, but stay alert. “Keep the fucking money.”

“Frank? What the fuck? Where are you going?” Carl demands, jerking his rifle toward us in a panic.

“New Chicago,” Frank growls. “To find the Pride without a king. That’s what she told me to do. I’m finally ready to listen.”

Frank disappears into The Tangle, leaving a trail of devastation before he finds his silent rhythm.

“Frank! Frank! Come back!” Carl yells.

“Kill them,” Gideon calls out as he shifts. “All of them.”

We don’t hesitate. Jace takes the first throat, leaps off the body as it falls to the ground, and lands on another slaver’s back. I see the bones of the man’s spine as they’re ripped through the flesh, but I see one taking aim at Gideon, so I make sure he never gets a chance to fire. My jaws clamp around the arm balancing the gun and I rip. His weapon goes in one direction and his arm in the other. He screams as he stumbles into the underbrush, already mortally wounded.

I look around and see my brothers in a sea of pack efficiency and the fragile chaos of humans meeting their end. Carl fires off a few shots, but they’re wild and only hit bark. He stumbles back into the underbrush and makes a break for it. Another tries to follow their leader, but Gideon catches him mid-sprint and slams him into a tree so hard the bark explodes in a ring around the impact. The man’s body slumps with several convulsions that confirm he’s dead or close enough.

The clearing is red beneath our paws. The screams have died out. All I can hear are agonizing wails and the last gasps of dying men.

“The leader got away,” I say across our mental link.

“After him,” Gideon replies, dashing in the direction Carl fled.

We scatter like ghosts and give chase. It doesn’t take us long to catch up with Carl. He sprints into the thick of The Tangle, crashing through underbrush, panting like an animal being chased down for slaughter. That’s exactly what he is now. The only semblance of humanity left is fear and desperation, but they won’t help him now.

Trees, vines, and carnivorous plants make his escape even more difficult. They don’t avoid him, like they seem to do with the girls. Carl trips, stumbles, and loses his rifle, but he doesn’t stop to retrieve it. He keeps running, his frantic breathing and the twigs snapping beneath his feet painting a trail even a blind wolf could follow.

We toy with him, herding him left, then right, until he’s right back where he started—staring at the bodies of the men he led to their deaths. He trips over what’s left of a slaver. Half a ribcage, entrails tangled with roots, boots still on twitching legs. The Tangle has already sent a length of spikeshade to devour the fresh meat.

Carl groans, but tries to keep moving. We form a circle and close in. He spins in every direction, realizing he’s trapped.

“G-good dogs—wolves,” he mutters, swallowing hard as he walks backwards and pulls a knife from his belt. “I mean you no harm. Really. I’ll go, just like Frank did! You can have the girls! You don’t even have to pay for them!”

Gideon shifts first. Bones cracking, skin stretching, fur retracting. It happens so fast it looks instantaneous. It wasn’t like that in the early days, before we truly learned to call our wolves.

Carl is no longer a danger, even with the knife trembling in his hand, so the rest of us shift, too. I’m not sure which is more intimidating to the slaver—five wolves with muzzles still wet from the kill, or five naked men, wearing his men’s blood like war paint.

“No,” Gideon says firmly. “The world will be a lot better without you in it.”

“Fucking parasite,” Jace growls.

We close in on the slaver and fear flourishes in his eyes.

We don’t give him the mercy of a scream.

The Tangle can have what’s left of him after we’re done.