Page 18 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Asher

T he pack house is in chaos when we arrive, and the wolves do not look pleased to see us.

Makes sense—there’s danger, so they’re closing ranks.

Noah recognises me at least, at the door, and Vlad draws Grant closer.

He might not want Grant around a bunch of grieving wolves, but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone when there are high fae running around, either.

I hear Maurice’s voice as we stride down the corridor towards Deacon’s office.

Wherever this injured wolf is, he isn’t here.

Njáll rests back against one of the walls, watching Maurice, who is standing toe-to-toe with Deacon.

Vasile, the vampires’ former crai and Deacon’s mate, watches too, his mouth set in a sad line.

“Fuck, thank fuck you’re here,” Maurice says, spinning to face us. “This is a shitshow.”

“Maurice,” Njáll says lowly, but Maurice doesn’t even look at him.

“What do you know?” Vlad asks.

Deacon sighs, leaning back against his desk.

Vasile walks over to join him, their hips pressing together.

“Noah found him about half an hour ago. His name’s Bryn.

He’s one of the lone wolves who lives in London.

We’re not exactly sure when he was tossed outside the building, but he can only have been there a few minutes, so we’ve got someone working on CCTV. ”

Maurice grumbles under his breath. Yeah, that might not work. Fae can be hard to catch on recordings, even digital ones, though at least we know kind of what we’re looking for.

“This is definitely under our purview?” Vlad asks Maurice, who nods.

“There’s not a human mage alive who could do this,” he says, absolute certainty in his voice. “Besides, I checked when I got here. He’s covered in fae magic.”

“And he’s alive?” I ask, surprised at how rough my voice sounds.

Deacon seems to be surprised, too. What can he scent on me? I’m fairly sure he has the measure of me, even though the time I spent as his bodyguard was short. He’s a powerful wolf. Clever.

Maurice nods. “For now. I’m not sure…” His voice falters, fingers twitching by his sides. “If we can’t get his wolf back soon, that’s it. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” Grant murmurs to Vlad. We all hear it, all turn to look at him, and his face flames and he takes a step back.

“That’s all right,” Deacon says kindly, so patient, especially given the circumstances.

“We wolves might say things as though we are made up of two halves, as though one could live without the other, but that is hardly the case. We are not human. We have never been human. Our wolves are what we are, and to remove them is—”

I cast my gaze away because I do not want Deacon to look at me with sympathy in his eyes.

Kieran is an anomaly, one that occurs only when a wolf mates with a human who has magic enough to sustain their would-be wolf child, too. He will never wield it, but it is what keeps him whole.

Magic is what sustains me as well. That magic is why I can never challenge the Huntsman the way Maurice did; it is why I keep my head down and do my job.

If he takes my blessing back, I will die.

There is no question. I should have died in the snow, and he hollowed me out and gave me magic enough to survive.

Maurice is right; Bryn will not survive this if we cannot find his wolf and return it to him.

“He’ll die, then?” Grant whispers.

“Who could have done this?” Deacon asks. “You’re saying fae, but who?”

“High fae,” Maurice says. “Or someone almost as powerful.”

“The twins?” Vlad asks.

“More than likely, but look, there are a dozen fae in the city alone who could have done this. What do we know about Bryn? That might be the best way to narrow things down,” Maurice says.

“Not much,” Deacon says. “We track the lone wolves, tell them to keep to the territories, but otherwise we leave them be. They’re not here for any kind of pack. We’re responsible for them, but there are lines we try not to cross.”

“Is he conscious?” Vlad asks and Maurice shakes his head. “Then we begin by investigating. Maurice, I want that list of fae you have. Our high fae are the prime suspects, but we should be able to assess the others and perhaps tick some off.” He looks at Grant. “You will go over the list with me.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You have the most contact with them. It will be helpful.”

Maurice takes a seat in the room, drawing Vlad and Grant along with him. I hesitate.

“Can I… Can I see him?” I ask Deacon.

He blinks at me, apparently taken aback. He exchanges a look with Maurice, too, and I don’t like that at all, but then Deacon pushes off from the desk and pats me on the arm. “Sure. Let’s go.”

This pack house isn’t overly large, even though they’ve clearly taken a couple of the townhouses on this street and renovated them so there’s more space, but it’s a winding route to reach the room where Bryn is resting.

Deacon knocks politely on the door before he pushes it open. A young woman sits by Bryn’s bed, but I don’t necessarily think she knows him. It’s just kinder, isn’t it, not to leave him alone?

“We’ll be a moment,” Deacon says to her softly, and she nods, baring her throat slightly before she leaves the room.

I recognise him. Of course I recognise him because Vlad’s being cautious and thorough, but we all know there are only two high fae on the loose right now who might have done this.

Why have they done this? I trace Bryn’s face with my eyes. He looks older than me, though he must be younger than Deacon, and even unconscious, pain is etched into his expression.

I have to tell them. I half turn towards the door, ready to go back, but then I remember—

Quinn.

Quinn has bargained something to fight. He must have. And I don’t want to believe he’d bargain his wolf, not with how upset he seemed last night over feeling like he’s lost him…

What if he has?

Throwing the twins back through the veil won’t void the deal. Nothing short of killing them will. And the Huntsman won’t sanction killing them for one young wolf.

I don’t even think Vlad will.

“You know him,” Deacon says. His words are quiet enough that they won’t travel through the door, but then I think unless a member of the Hunt is on the other side, we’d never hear them anyway. His wolves are loyal.

Still, I only nod. I can’t voice it.

“You’re protecting someone else.”

“I-I can’t…” I shouldn’t be protecting either of them. We protect humans from the fae. Not wolves. Not even vampires. Humans.

“He needs help too,” Deacon says. “But you’ve made your choice.”

I taste ash on my tongue. “I do not know what else to do.” If I tell Deacon about Quinn, I know he’ll go straight to Kieran’s pack. They’ll push, and Quinn will withdraw, and any chance he has of keeping up his side of the bargain will be destroyed.

“Maurice said there is only a small window to get Bryn’s wolf back,” Deacon says.

His eyes slide over to Bryn, and the only sign he still lives is the rise and fall of his chest. I remember the way he and Quinn looked at each other when Bryn climbed into the cage.

Maybe they’re not friends, but they’re friendly.

Quinn would want me to help him.

Quinn doesn’t want to lose his wolf.

“When did you lose yours?” Deacon asks, and it takes me a second to process the question.

“My wolf?”

“Yes.”

I snort. “A couple of centuries have gone by without anyone noticing, you know.”

“Maurice knows.”

“Maurice thinks he knows everything.”

Deacon shrugs, almost like he agrees. My stomach twists. I have to tell them. We have to find the twins. And I can—I can kill them myself if it comes to it.

My wolf is gone, but am I willing to risk my life for Quinn? Not in fighting the twins. That’s a given. An easy choice.

It’ll be after. When the Huntsman comes after.

“I do recognise him,” I say because I can’t give Deacon the explanation I gave Quinn; I don’t want to tell anyone else about what happened to me. The wound is raw again after last night, and now it needs to heal a second time. “I need to tell the others.”

I turn for the door, but Deacon’s hand on my arm gives me pause. He lets out a heavy sigh and when I look at him, his eyes are shadowed.

“Kieran said you’ve been spending time with Quinn.”

My arm tenses under his hand. It gives me away. “I have.”

“I can’t—” Deacon glances back at Bryn. He made a choice, sure, but Deacon’s job is to help all the wolves in this city. “You’re looking out for him?”

“I am.”

Deacon lets go. “Good.”

I open the door and Deacon follows me as I walk back to his office. Vlad and the others don’t look up as we enter, but Vasile and Njáll do, and Vasile frowns at whatever he sees on my face.

“I recognised the wolf,” I say, and Vlad jerks his head up. “I know where we need to go.”

Only, when we get there, Mischief the wolf will want to return to him.”

“Okay.”

Maurice nods decisively. “I’ll call the Guardians when we get in, let them know I’m coming. They might be able to advise. Vlad, you’ve got the Huntsman?”

“Yes,” Vlad says. He sighs. “I fear we have a very long day ahead of us.”