Chapter 42
title: "Chapter 2" wordCount: 3779
I moved before thinking, before Declan could grab me again, before my brain could catch up to the fury flooding my veins.
Garrett's smile widened. "Still so impulsive."
The kid's eyes tracked me, desperate and fading. Silver burns wrapped around his wrists where the chains bit into skin. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. Someone's son. Someone's pack.
"Let him go." My voice came out steady. Controlled. Everything I wasn't feeling.
"Let him go," Garrett repeated, tasting the words. "You walk into my territory after three years of silence and issue demands. Fascinating." He circled the kid, one hand trailing along the chain. The boy flinched. "Do you know what this child did, Sloane Carrigan?"
Using my full name. Asserting dominance like he'd read it in some corporate handbook on wolf politics.
"I do not care what he did."
"He killed two of my wolves." Garrett stopped, tilted his head. "Ripped out their throats while they slept. Fourteen years old and already a murderer."
The kid's face told a different story. Terror, yes, but not guilt. Not the kind that came from killing in cold blood.
"Self-defense is not murder." Declan's voice came from behind me, closer than I'd expected. "That is not the whole truth."
Garrett's attention shifted, predator recognizing a threat. "Declan Thorne. I heard you were sniffing around my city. Tell me, does the Council know you are here?"
"The Council knows what they need to know."
The wolves around us shifted, restless. Twelve against two. Bad odds even without the kid to protect. My wolf wanted blood, wanted to tear into Garrett's throat and finish what should have ended three years ago.
But the kid would die in the crossfire.
"We can discuss this." Garrett spread his hands, reasonable businessman making a deal. "I am not unreasonable. The boy broke our laws. He pays the price. You two walk away. Everyone wins."
"Yeah, no." The words came out automatic. "Not happening."
"Then we have a problem."
The wolf to my left moved first. I caught the shift in his weight, the bunching of muscle, and I was already turning when he lunged. My claws extended mid-motion, catching him across the ribs. He yelped, stumbled back.
The warehouse exploded into chaos.
Declan moved like water, like he'd choreographed this fight in his sleep. Two wolves went down before I registered he'd moved at all. But there were too many, and they kept coming, and the kid was screaming now, pulling against the chains hard enough that blood ran down his arms in rivers.
Something hit me from behind. Teeth in my shoulder, tearing. I twisted, slammed my elbow back into a snout. Bone crunched. The grip released.
"Enough." Garrett's voice cut through the snarling. "Enough."
The wolves froze. All of them, like puppets with cut strings. I'd seen pack compulsion before, but never this absolute. Never this immediate.
Declan had three wolves on the ground, unconscious or dead. Blood soaked his shirt, but I couldn't tell if it was his. He wasn't breathing hard.
"You have made your point." Garrett examined his nails, bored. "You are capable of violence. Congratulations. But you are also outnumbered, outmatched, and running out of time." He checked his watch. "The silver poisoning will reach his heart in approximately seven minutes. After that, even if you somehow managed to free him, he would die anyway."
The kid had stopped screaming. His head lolled forward, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.
"What do you want?" The words tasted like ash.
"There it is." Garrett's smile could have sold insurance. "The negotiation. I want what I have always wanted, Sloane. I want you to stop running. I want you to accept your place in the new order. I want you to kneel."
My wolf snarled. Every instinct screamed to attack, to die fighting rather than submit. But the kid's breathing was getting shallower.
"If I kneel, you let him go."
"Sloane—" Declan's hand on my arm. I shook him off.
"You let him go, you give him the antidote, and you let us walk out of here."
Garrett considered this, head tilted like he was calculating profit margins. "I let the boy go. You stay. Declan Thorne leaves and does not return to my city. Those are my terms."
"Not good enough."
"Then the boy dies, and we see how long you last against twelve wolves and silver bullets." He pulled a gun from his jacket, casual as checking his phone. "I had these made special. Silver-core hollow points. Expensive, but effective. We could test them, if you would like."
The kid coughed. Blood on his lips.
Seven minutes. Maybe less now.
"There has to be another way." Declan moved closer, positioning himself between me and the nearest wolves. "You want leverage over the Council. I can give you that. Information they would pay dearly to keep quiet."
"I have information. I have money. I have power." Garrett gestured at the warehouse, the wolves, the empire he'd built on the bones of my pack. "What I do not have is Sloane Carrigan's submission. The last surviving member of the Carrigan pack, kneeling before me. That has value. That sends a message."
My nails bit into my palms. The watch on my wrist had stopped at 11:47 PM three years ago, the moment everything ended. The moment Garrett's wolves had torn through my family like they were nothing.
The kid whimpered.
I took a step forward. Then another. The wolves tensed, waiting for Garrett's command.
"Sloane, do not do this." Declan's voice was quiet, but something in it made me pause. "There is always another option."
"Not this time."
"Yes, this time. You think I came here unprepared?" He pulled something from his pocket. Small, metallic, blinking red. "I have been recording everything. Every word. Every threat. The Council will have this in their hands within the hour if I do not check in."
Garrett's smile finally slipped. "You are bluffing."
"Am I?" Declan held up the device. "You just confessed to murdering the Carrigan pack. To torturing a minor. To operating an illegal fighting ring. The Council overlooks many things, Garrett Voss, but not this. Not when it is documented. Not when it threatens to expose them all."
The the quiet held. I could hear the kid's heartbeat, irregular and fading. Could smell the silver burning through his system.
"You would destroy yourself to save them." Garrett's voice had lost its corporate smoothness. "The Council would want to know why you were here. What you were investigating. They would ask questions you cannot answer."
"Let them ask."
Something passed between them, some understanding I wasn't part of. Declan's hand moved to his left wrist. His tell. He was lying about something, but I couldn't figure out what.
Garrett laughed. Sharp, bitter sound. "Fine. Take the boy. Take Sloane. But this is not over, Declan Thorne. You have made an enemy today, and I have a very long memory."
He snapped his fingers. Two wolves moved forward, unlocking the chains. The kid collapsed. I caught him before he hit the ground, his weight nearly taking me down with him. He was burning up, skin slick with sweat and blood.
"The antidote," I said.
Garrett pulled a vial from his pocket, tossed it. I caught it one-handed, nearly dropped the kid doing it. Clear liquid, could be anything. Could be poison.
No choice.
I uncapped it, tilted the kid's head back, poured it down his throat. He choked, coughed, but swallowed. His heartbeat steadied. Slightly.
"We are leaving." Declan backed toward the door, gun trained on Garrett. When had he gotten a gun? "No one follows. No one makes a call. You give us ten minutes."
"Ten minutes," Garrett agreed. "Then my wolves hunt. And Sloane?" He smiled that corporate shark smile. "Welcome home."
The kid passed out in the back of Declan's car three blocks from the warehouse. I kept pressure on the worst of his wounds, my hands slick with blood that wasn't mine. He was breathing easier now, the antidote working through his system, but the silver burns would scar.
Everything scarred eventually.
"Where are we going?" My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.
"Somewhere safe." Declan took a corner too fast. The kid groaned but didn't wake. "I have a place outside the city. Warded. Garrett's wolves will not be able to track us there."
"You had a recording device."
"Yes."
"You were lying about something."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "Yes."
"Which part?"
"The part where I said I would give the recording to the Council." He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "I would never do that. It would destroy too many people. But Garrett does not know that."
The watch on my wrist caught the streetlight. 11:47 PM, frozen in time. "You risked everything on a bluff."
"I risked everything to keep you from kneeling to that man." His voice was quiet, careful. "That is not the same thing."
The kid stirred, mumbled something that might have been a name. I brushed hair back from his forehead, careful of the cuts. He looked younger unconscious. Vulnerable.
"Why were you at the warehouse?" The question had been building since I'd seen him in the shadows. "You said you were investigating something. What?"
"Missing wolves. Dozens of them over the past six months. All young, all powerful. All disappearing without a trace." He turned onto a highway, heading north. "I thought Garrett was recruiting. Building an army. But those cages—"
"Fighting rings." The words tasted like copper. "He is selling them. To humans, to other packs. Entertainment."
"Yes."
My wolf wanted to go back, wanted to tear Garrett apart piece by piece. But the kid was still bleeding, still dying by inches, and revenge was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Not yet.
"The Council knows about this," I said. Not a question.
Declan's silence was answer enough.
"They know, and they are letting it happen."
"The Council is complicated. There are factions, politics, old debts and older grudges. Garrett has leverage over several members. Enough to make them look the other way."
"That is not the whole truth."
He almost smiled. "No. It is not. But it is all I can tell you right now."
The kid's breathing had steadied, his heartbeat strong and regular. He'd live. Probably. If the silver hadn't done permanent damage, if infection didn't set in, if Garrett's wolves didn't find us before we reached safety.
Too many ifs.
"You touched your wrist," I said. "When you told Garrett about the recording. You were lying then too."
"You are observant."
"You are avoiding the question."
"Yes." He met my eyes in the mirror. "I am."
We drove in silence for twenty minutes. The city fell away behind us, replaced by dark trees and darker sky. No moon tonight. New moon, the time when wolves were weakest, most vulnerable.
Most human.
The kid woke up screaming.
I held him down as he thrashed, his wounds reopening, blood soaking through the makeshift bandages I'd made from my jacket. He was strong, stronger than he should be after silver poisoning, and it took all my strength to keep him from hurting himself.
"You are safe," I said. "You are safe, I have you, you are safe."
He didn't hear me. His eyes were wild, seeing something that wasn't there. Someone.
"Mom," he gasped. "Mom, please, I am sorry, I did not mean to—"
Declan pulled over, was in the back seat before I registered he'd moved. His hands on the kid's face, forcing eye contact.
"Look at me. You are not there. You are here. You are safe."
The kid focused, slowly. Recognition filtered through the panic.
"You are Declan Thorne," he whispered. "The Council's hunter."
"I am."
"You are going to kill me."
"No." Declan's voice was gentle, impossibly gentle for a man who'd just taken down three wolves without breaking a sweat. "I am going to help you. But I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?"
The kid nodded. Tears tracked through the blood on his face.
"What is your name?"
"Marcus. Marcus Webb."
"Marcus Webb." Declan released him, sat back. "Tell me what happened. Why did Garrett's wolves come for you?"
"I killed them." Marcus's voice broke. "I killed them, and I would do it again."
"Why?"
"They took my sister." The words came out in a rush, like he'd been holding them in too long. "Three months ago. She was walking home from school and they just—they took her. Put her in a van. I tried to stop them but there were too many, and I was not strong enough, and they laughed. They laughed while they took her."
My chest tightened. The watch on my wrist felt heavy.
"I tracked them," Marcus continued. "Took me weeks but I found their den. Found where they were keeping her. But I was too late. She was—" His voice broke completely. "She was already gone. Already sold. They told me she went to some pack in Nevada, that she was breeding stock now, that I should forget about her."
Declan's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes went cold. Dangerous.
"So I waited until they slept and I killed them. Ripped out their throats like they deserved. And then Garrett's wolves found me and—" Marcus looked at me. "You saved me. Why?"
"Not my circus," I said automatically. Then, softer, "No one deserves what they did to you."
"My sister is still out there."
"I know."
"I have to find her."
"I know."
Declan's phone buzzed. He checked it, and his face went carefully blank. "We need to move. Now."
"What is it?"
"Garrett's wolves are not the only ones looking for us." He showed me the screen. A message, three words: "Council knows. Run."
The kid looked between us, fear creeping back into his eyes. "What does that mean?"
"It means—" Declan started.
The back window exploded.
Glass everywhere, and something silver whistling past my ear. I threw myself over Marcus, felt the impact of bullets hitting the car frame. Declan was already moving, gun out, returning fire.
"Stay down," he shouted.
Another window shattered. The car swerved, tires screaming. I risked a look up, saw three vehicles behind us. Black SUVs, professional grade. Not Garrett's wolves.
Council hunters.
"They are not trying to stop us," Declan said, voice tight. "They are trying to kill us."
He floored it. The car lurched forward, engine roaring. But the SUVs kept pace, and more bullets punched through metal, and Marcus was screaming again, and my wolf was howling for blood.
"There." Declan pointed at a side road, barely visible in the darkness. "Hold on."
He yanked the wheel. The car went sideways, skidding on gravel, and for a moment I thought we'd flip. But the tires caught, and we were racing down a narrow dirt path, trees whipping past on both sides.
The SUVs followed.
"They are going to box us in," I said.
"I know."
"We cannot outrun them."
"I know."
"So what is the plan?"
Declan's hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. "I am working on it."
A tree loomed ahead, fallen across the path. No time to stop. Declan aimed for the narrowest part, where the trunk was thinnest, and gunned it.
We hit the tree doing sixty. The impact threw me forward, seatbelt cutting into my chest. Marcus screamed. The car kept going, momentum carrying us over the obstacle, and for a heartbeat we were airborne.
We landed hard. Something in the engine made a sound like dying metal. But we were still moving, still ahead of the SUVs.
For now.
"The wards," Declan said. "If we can reach the wards, they cannot follow. Two miles. Maybe less."
"We do not have two miles."
"Then we make them."
The engine was smoking now, temperature gauge climbing into the red. The car shuddered with every acceleration. Behind us, the SUVs had cleared the tree, were gaining ground.
Marcus grabbed my arm. "Let me out."
"What?"
"Let me out. They want me. If I run, they will follow. You two can escape."
"Yeah, no." I met his eyes. "Not happening."
"I am already dead. My sister is gone. I have nothing left. Let me do this. Let me—"
"You have everything left," I said. "Your sister is alive. We are going to find her. But first we have to survive the next five minutes."
Declan's phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, and his face went white.
"What?" I demanded.
"The message. It was not a warning." His voice was hollow. "It was a location marker. I led them right to us."
The car's engine seized. We coasted for another hundred yards before Declan pulled over, killed the lights. Silence, except for our breathing and the distant sound of engines.
"Run," Declan said. "Both of you. The wards are half a mile north. I will buy you time."
"I am not leaving you."
"Sloane—"
"I am not leaving you."
He looked at me, and something in his expression made my breath catch. "I have been lying to you since we met. About why I am here. About what I am investigating. About everything."
"I know."
"The Council did not send me to find missing wolves." His words came faster now, urgent. "They sent me to find you. To bring you in. Dead or alive."
The world tilted.
"You are the last Carrigan," he continued. "The last link to something they want buried. And I was supposed to—" His voice broke. "I was supposed to kill you three days ago."
Marcus made a sound, started to shift. I held up a hand, stopping him.
"Why did you not?"
"Because—"
The SUVs burst through the trees, headlights blinding. Doors opened. Figures emerged, moving with military precision. Six of them, all armed, all trained.
Declan stepped in front of me. "Whatever happens, run. Promise me."
"I do not make promises I cannot keep."
"Sloane—"
The lead hunter raised his weapon, and I saw his face in the headlights. Saw the Council's mark on his jacket. Saw the silver bullets loaded in his gun.
Saw him aim at Declan's heart.
"Wait," I said.
The hunter smiled. "Sloane Carrigan. You are under arrest for crimes against the Council. Surrender now, or we will use lethal force."
"On what charges?"
"Murder. Conspiracy. Treason." He rattled them off like a grocery list. "The murder of Garrett Voss's wolves three years ago. The conspiracy to overthrow the Council's authority. The treason of surviving when your entire pack was sentenced to death."
The words hit like silver bullets.
"My pack was not sentenced. They were slaughtered."
"Semantics." The hunter's smile widened. "The Council ordered the Carrigan pack eliminated. Garrett Voss carried out that order. You were supposed to die with them. The fact that you did not is a crime in itself."
My wolf surged forward, and I let her. Let the rage and grief and three years of running fuel the shift. Bones cracked, reformed. Fur sprouted. The world sharpened into scent and sound and the overwhelming need to tear out throats.
I lunged.
The hunter fired.
Declan moved faster, throwing himself between me and the bullet. It caught him in the chest, and he went down hard.
"No," I heard myself scream, human voice from a wolf's throat.
The hunters advanced, weapons raised. Marcus shifted beside me, young wolf barely in control. We were outnumbered, outgunned, and Declan was bleeding out on the ground.
The lead hunter chambered another round. "Last chance, Carrigan. Surrender or die."
I looked at Declan, at the blood spreading across his shirt, at his eyes finding mine.
"Run," he mouthed.
The hunter's finger tightened on the trigger.
And then the forest exploded with howls.
Dozens of them, coming from every direction. The hunters spun, trying to track the sound, but it was everywhere, surrounding us. A wolf burst from the trees, then another, then ten more. Twenty. Thirty.
Not Garrett's wolves.
Not Council hunters.
Something else entirely.
They moved like shadows, like nightmares, and they tore into the hunters with savage efficiency. Screams cut short. Guns firing wild. Blood on the leaves.
I shifted back, human again, and crawled to Declan. The bullet had missed his heart by inches, but he was losing blood fast. Too fast.
"Stay with me," I said. "Do not you dare die on me."
His hand found mine. "I am sorry. For everything. I should have told you—"
"Shut up. Save your strength."
The largest wolf approached, and I recognized the scent a heartbeat before he shifted. Male, mid-forties, scarred face and eyes that had seen too much.
"Sloane Carrigan," he said. "Your mother sent me."
The world stopped.
"My mother is dead."
"No." He smiled, and it was sad and knowing and impossible. "She is not. And she has been looking for you for three years."
Behind him, the wolves finished with the hunters. Six bodies on the ground, none of them moving. Marcus stood frozen, covered in blood that wasn't his.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"My name is Thomas Webb." He looked at Marcus, and something in his expression softened. "And that is my son."
Marcus made a sound like a wounded animal. "Dad?"
"Hello, son. I am sorry I am late."
Declan coughed, blood on his lips. The bullet wound was worse than I'd thought. Silver poisoning spreading through his system.
"We need to move," Thomas said. "More hunters will come. The Council knows where you are now. They will not stop until you are dead."
"I am not going anywhere until he is stable."
"Then he will die, and you will die with him, and your mother will have lost you twice." Thomas crouched beside me. "I have a healer. She can save him. But we have to go now."
I looked at Declan, at his eyes already glazing, at the watch on my wrist that had stopped three years ago.
At Marcus, who'd just found his father.
At Thomas, who claimed my mother was alive.
"Where?" I asked.
Thomas smiled. "Home."
He pulled something from his pocket. A photograph, creased and worn. A woman with my eyes, my scar, my face.
My mother.
Alive.
Standing in front of a compound I didn't recognize, surrounded by wolves I'd never seen.
And behind her, barely visible in the shadows—
My breath caught.
"That is not possible," I whispered.
"Many things are possible," Thomas said, "when the Council has been lying to you your entire life."
Declan's hand went slack in mine.