Page 10 of Never Tamed (Bad Wolves #3)

Ren

B odies found in the sewer.

We’re all thinking the same thing. Those bodies are ours. I might not be an official member of Mathis’s pack but they’re mine. And Flora—

Tears prick my eyes. I can’t think about it.

I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the past forty minutes.

The taxi rolls past the city line faster than the speed limit, where steel and glass buildings shrink behind us and the wilderness of Grey Valley forest takes hold.

From the backseat, squished between two massive werewolves, I watch through the streaked windshield as the skyline fades from man-made to nature-made. Skyscrapers and apartments are replaced by tall trees, asphalt by decaying leaves and a thin layer of frosty snow that gets thicker with every mile.

No one speaks.

Silence buzzes in my ears, louder than the drum of the engine or the clang of the left back wheel. The cab smells like spice, chicken, coffee, old leather, and people. Lots of people. I smell them in layers—their sweat, perfume, shampoo, home, pets.

I want to focus on the scents and identifying each layer because it’s better than remembering Flora’s smile. And worrying about whether or not she’s the one the cops found.

Whether or not I’ll see her again.

Eyes closed, I breath in, sensing every person who sat in the van recently. It’s overwhelming and tickles my nose, making my eyes burn more than they already do.

Beneath it all, I still smell the blood on us, dried, clotted, soaked into our clothes and under our nails. A quick glance around shows me that none of the guys seem to be affected by the smells. They’re probably just used to these hyper-wolf senses. I’m not.

It's a lot. Yet it’s still not distracting me from the weight of Mathis’s loss. Our loss. Flora was the nicest person to me, the first friend I had on this side of life.

I want to cry, yell, break down, but after everything, I don’t even have the energy to do it. Exhaustion clings. So, I wrap my arms tighter around myself and keep my tears at bay.

Another few miles and maybe I’ll be able to give in to them. Or maybe I won’t.

Poor Mathis.

My heart cries out for him. He hasn’t spoken much since the radio announced Andras's cruelty.

Mathis’s fists haven’t unclenched and his jaw is so tight I see the muscle twitch from here. He’s vibrating at the edge of his control, on the verge of shifting, I think. He won’t do it, not here—not in front of a human and a stranger.

Still, it radiates off him like heat and changes the tenor of the bond between us. I taste his grief, his rage.

It’s breaking him apart inside.

We’re physically and mentally wrecked as a unit. Noble’s broken leg has healed but he’s still shaky and his skin pale and clammy. The bumps in the road hit us like punches.

Torin checks the mirror on repeat as though Andras will rise from the ground behind us.

Dax hasn’t stopped fidgeting from his “seat” in the trunk, where he’s more comfortable.

How are we going to make it back to our packs? The camp is too far to reach on foot tonight. Especially with us still licking wounds and the snow a foot deep. We’re hungry. We’re beyond tired.

Now, we’re grieving.

The van finally slows and it feels like a relief and a mistake at the same time. Our driver doesn’t ask questions, just stops near a break in the road where the forest swallows everything in its path.

Dax is the first out, kicking open the trunk and leaping into the snow on all fours. Lifting his head, he puts his nose to the wind and scans the treeline with primal instinct. After a beat, he nods.

“We need to move fast,” he says but glances at Noble. “As fast as we can. Let’s go.”

No one argues. We climb out of the van and watch it turn around and drive off before stepping off the road. At least the driver was smart enough to not ask anymore questions. He was probably super happy to get rid of us.

Torin sneers at the treeline and stomps to clear the flakes from the bottom of his pants. “We’ll never make it to camp today in this snow.”

“We can if we shift.” Dax shakes his head. “We could probably make it by dawn if we run.”

Torin snorts. “Noble can’t shift like this and neither can Ren. Not without jeopardizing their bodies.”

Dax meets eyes with Mathis, but the alpha doesn’t say anything. They’re doing that weird silent communication thing again. Like they can read each other’s mind. Not like the mate bond link—something else.

I’m not sure if it’s years of working side by side or something else, something deeper than solidarity and friendship.

“Sorry I’m slowing us all down, guys.” Noble sucks in a sharp breath. “I just need to get some food—some real food—in me and sleep it off. That’ll help speed up the healing.”

My stomach growls again. “I second that.”

I’ve never been very good with missing meals.

“We’ll make camp half way. It’ll also let us make sure we’re not leading Andras straight to our packs.” Torin looks at me before dropping his gaze.

Dax snorts in annoyance. “Fine. But keep up in the meantime.”

Without pause, he strides forward again, broad shouldered, into the trees.

Noble mutters, “Asshole” loudly enough for an animal with advanced hearing to catch.

Dax’s ear twitches but luckily, he doesn’t stop or jump on Noble, fists flying. Not like he would have done a week ago.

Maybe there’s hope we can all get along after all.

This hungry and tired, I can’t put much stock in hope.

Mathis helps me along and we follow the trail Dax cuts. Snow crunches underfoot and each step sinks enough to slow us down. As a human, this kind of hiking would send me into a five-hour nap of pure exhaustion.

Now, Torin helps Noble trek through the blanket of white the same way Mathis helps me.

Branches creak above us, heavy with frost.

The early morning sun is barely more than a smudge behind the clouds and the forest stretches endlessly in every direction. The peaceful quiet is an insult to the heaviness in my heart and the restless thoughts echoing in my head.

How Dax knows where he’s going is a mystery but he definitely has a place in mind. And out of everyone, he’s the one I trust the most to get us through the wilderness. I won’t question him. He’s the one who knows the safest spots on Grey Mountain or in the Valley.

I step in the footprints imprinted in the snow and glance over my shoulder repeatedly to check on Noble. He and Torin lag behind with their heads bent together in low talk.

Dax stalks forward and although Mathis is here with me, holding me, his mind is obviously elsewhere.

Will he snap? Fall apart? Vanish into fur and rage?

Those things vibrate through him.

I’m surprised he hasn’t already.

My legs are numb up to the knee, my hands stiff in my pockets. I won’t complain. None of us do. We have to focus on getting somewhere safe where we can hunker down and start a fire, hopefully eat, and rest before making the full trek back to the camp.

What will we find when we get there?

The worry hollows out my core.

Fallen trees and stumps cut through the endless gray expanse and thick roots rise like twisted bones through the snow. Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls out, the noise so sudden I flinch.

Dax freezes and lifts a hand to stop us. Whatever he senses must not amount to much when he beckons us forward.

Eventually, the trees thin slightly and the slope starts to dip. I smell water before I hear it, the sharp, icy freshness of a running stream. Then the trickle reaches my ears and I see it. A creek, half-frozen, winding between snow banks like a sliver of silver.

Dax slows, his bare feet crunching softer now.

When he stops near the edge of the bank, he looks around with narrowed eyes and his nostrils flare.

“Here,” he says. “We’ll make camp here.”

I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. Dax only stands and shakes his head like this place and the weight of memories batter him.

The rest of us gather around, breathing heavy. A deep ache settles into my bones and into the bruises I’ve been pretending don’t hurt. There’s a moment where no one moves—like we’re waiting for something. Permission. A sign.

Then Mathis speaks, voice quiet but clear. “This is where my dad and I found him.”

My head snaps up.

“Here?” Torin asks, gaze scanning over the snow-covered landscape.

Mathis nods somberly. “I’ll never forget it.”

Apparently Dax hasn’t either.

“It was a long time ago,” Dax whispers, his voice fractured, “but I always find myself coming back.”

The poignancy of the moment isn’t lost on me. I push away from Mathis and step closer to Dax, lifting my hand to touch him, unsurprised when he grabs it and presses it to his heart.

“Do you remember anything before you ended up here?”

His gaze is pinned on the creek and he says nothing.

Torin walks Noble over to the closest birch tree to lean against, then glances between Mathis and Dax, his gaze skipping over me. “If we’re stopping here then we should get to work. I smell another storm rolling in. We’ll need a fire and shelter. So what can we do?”

Dax stomps against the ice along the creek’s edge. “You’re asking us?”

“This is your territory, asshole,” Torin barks. “It’s called respect.”

“The Steel Claws have never rubbed two sticks together to make a fire? I’m not surprised.” Dax chuckles darkly.

Torin growls.

“Don’t start bickering,” I say to them all. “We need to work together.”

The guys all exchange looks.

“She’s right,” Noble replies first. “Arguing isn’t going to help anyone. Mathis, Dax—tell us how we can help.”

As close as they were to each other’s throats a few seconds ago, the men divvy out chores with precision. They move to clear the space and gather what little dried twigs and logs they can for warmth.

This is their territory, not mine. Their area of expertise.

I kneel by the water, touch the edge with my fingertips. It’s freezing, and I let it sting. The snap of cold helps clear my head and the pressing urgency of my own wounds still left to heal. My side pinches still.