Krista’s feet were touching the mat now. Tristan gave a slight sigh with relief. “Maybe you can do something about this,” he told her.
“What’s going on?” Krista asked.
"This doesn't concern her," Ryland's face was twisted in anger now. The curse had really taken a toll on him and was continuing to work its horrors.
"She's part of this just as much as you are," a strategist named Kalyn stepped forward.
Ryland seemed taken aback. Nobody in his pack had dared talk to him this way, and yet some of his best were defying his orders. "I have a lead on where the murderers are," Ryland said harshly. "I'm gathering a team, and we're going to infiltrate it, just as we did the abandoned factory. It'll be small, contained—just a scouting mission. Nobody will get hurt. I will make sure of that."
Nobody seemed to believe him, especially Krista. Ryland clearly wasn't himself, and his own pride would be the thing that would end up killing him and anyone else he took with him on his mission.
"The factory was a scouting mission as well, in case you forgot," A flare of light flashed across Tristan's glasses, vaguely reminding Krista of her dream—the hint of light shining in the figure's hood.
“Ryland, stay,” Krista said. Anything to keep Ryland here before he did something drastic. “I had a vision last night, a powerful one. I saw that you were going to be killed!” She frantically tried to explain what she saw, about the dagger and the shadows around Ryland’s body, how the fire had shot out from his face and engulfed him and Krista. His response was simple, direct.
“Let’s hope that’s not the outcome, then,” Ryland said, barely casting a glance at her. Krista was hurt, especially because of what they had shared the night before. Couldn’t he see through this curse to realize that? The other shifters stood their ground, their arms crossed and their feet planted firmly on the mat.
“Well, since I won’t be organizing any strategists for you,” Kalyn said. “I’ll be seeing myself out.”
“Same goes for me,” added Tory. “I’m not going to let any scouts die out there.”
The two of them walked towards the double doors, unzipping their black track jackets and leaving them behind them as they followed one another into the hall. Krista saw that something about this scene had unleashed another wave of fury in Ryland, as he watched them disappear down the hallway.
"How dare you do this to your alpha?" Ryland fumed, his face turning blood-red. "After all that I've done for this pack!"
"You are doing absolutely nothing if you're sending us all to be slaughtered out there!" A voice rung even louder than Ryland’s. Krista had never seen Tristan so upset and had no idea he was capable of such anger.
A cry escaped from her as Ryland's hand shot out and grabbed Tristan by his white collar. Their noses were just touching as Ryland's chest heaved. Krista noticed the dark webs spreading from Ryland's t-shirt collar up against his neck, his veins pulsing violently. It was only a matter of time before he'd be completely consumed. Tristan kept a calm demeanor, his face furrowed with frustration at the behavior of his alpha. "I chose you for a reason," Ryland growled.
“I’m not your brother, Ryland. No matter how badly you want me to be.”
It only took one second. One second Tristan was standing, and the next he was thrown onto his back on the mat, his glasses flying from his face. Ryland clutched at Tristan’s shirt, staining it with a spritz of blood as he shot his fist into the beta’s nose. He punched him again, and again, despite Krista’s desperate screams for him to stop. The other shifters only watched in horror, fearing they could somehow be next.
Tristan choked and sputtered on his own blood, and Krista couldn’t take the sight of it anymore. Ryland was going to kill him. He was going to get lost in himself, transforming into whatever that thing was that tore apart that shifter in the fish market. She had to stop it.
“Let him go, Ryland!” Krista forced herself in between them, pushing them apart, trying to gain control of the unrecognizable monster in front of her. The other Rogues rushed to her side, shifting into wolves that circled around Tristan, growling fiercely as they too stood up to their alpha. A pair of jaws lashed out at Ryland, and he seemed to snap from his trance.
Ryland looked at Krista as if she had somehow betrayed him too. Krista kept trying, inserting herself further between him and Tristan.
"Look at you," she said with disappointment. It wasn't hard to show it, not after she poured everything out to him. "Look what you've done while everyone here has given you everything!" Now her voice was rising, and there was something liberating about it.
A silence hovered between them, thick and ominous. She had no idea what Ryland would do next. Finally, he made a motion and stepped onto the concrete. Everyone’s silent gaze followed him as he found a nearby table, lifted it high above his head, and launched it across the room with incredible force. It crashed to the floor, a cacophony of splintered wood and screeching metal forming as it slid to a halt. Krista jumped at the sound. The wolves whined nervously in response.
“FUCK YOU!” Ryland hollered. “All of you!” He even looked at Krista as he said it, which felt like he was stabbing her with a dagger of his own. He was just a wounded animal, angry and scared. Nothing could be done about it now, not when he was having a full-on tantrum in front of all of the Rogues.
They fell silent as papers fluttered to the ground around Ryland’s feet. He stood there, his fists clenched and his chest rising and falling. “I’ll go on my own,” He growled with finality.
“What part of my vision did you not understand?” Krista shouted from the mat. “Apparently my abilities mean nothing to you if you’re willing to dive headfirst into this without hearing me out!”
"I don't care if you're the oracle or not," he sneered. Now his voice was unrecognizable. There was something different about his eyes. Krista saw strange yellow pools forming in them, which suddenly turned into a deep-red. "You're just about as useful as them." Ryland pointed to Tristan, who glared at him with such hatred. Tristan licked the red from his teeth, wiping the blood from his lips. Ruby-red streaked across his white sleeve as he wiped his nose, but he didn't care.
“You don’t mean that,” Krista said, her throat tightening. Hot tears formed in her eyes. “This is the curse, Ryland, not you. Don’t let it take you this way.”
"Trust me, it won't."
He kept walking. Krista hoped that he’d look back, just once. He didn’t. He slammed his fist against a button on a far wall. The sliding door to the warehouse creaked as it slid open. Krista and the Rogues watched—the tension heavy in the room as Ryland stepped out and disappeared into the cold morning.
14. LONER
Ryland ran until his four legs burned and couldn’t carry him any further. Everything that had just happened at the Rogue’s base was just a blur swirling in his mind. Now he was in the forest, lost and blinded by his own rage. Who needs them? He thought. I'm the strongest alpha, after all.
As a wolf, all he wanted to do was find something and kill it. Searching through the trees, his nose picked up a hint of deer, grazing on some nearby bushes. He could smell the blood running through its veins, hear its heartbeat. He crouched low to the ground, ready to spring out at his prey.
But, he couldn't do it. He shifted back, leaning against a tree as he watched the doe take off into the thicket. Suddenly, he was overcome with a blanket of guilt. He looked down at his fists, still covered in Tristan's blood, the skin broken on his knuckles. "What have I done…" the words escaped his lips, and they felt so foreign to him. Who was he now? He thought he had been a strong leader, an alpha who swore to do what was best for his pack, always. Until he had let that damned curse get a hold of him. It gripped him, tighter than it had the day it first took hold of his soul.
He buried his face in his hands and, to his own surprise, he wept. The image of Tristan’s battered face was burned into his mind. He could still hear himself, a voice he didn’t even recognize, telling Krista
she was worthless. How could he have allowed himself to get this far? He couldn’t bear the thought of Krista’s face, tears forming in her eyes that he had helped to create.
The night before had been so perfect. He had never felt such a level of calmness washing over him. Now here he was, alone in the woods. He thought about going back. He could apologize, although he wasn’t even sure who would forgive him after the stunts he had pulled earlier that day. It was already a bad sign that he had fought Declan several days ago, but now he had allowed himself to go over the edge completely.
While it was happening, it had felt almost like a dream. It was as if he had lost himself again, somewhere in a dark void. Awake and aware, he now realized that he would truly have to do this on his own. The curse had nearly demonstrated its full potential, and Ryland knew that if Krista and the others hadn't gotten between them, he could have beaten Tristan to a pulp.
He wiped the tears from his eyes. It had been a while since he’d cried—the last time probably being when his brother had left. It was hard to bear the burden of the pack on his shoulders, and now he was wondering if he had only brought that burden on himself. Thoughts of Krista started to take over. He hadn’t felt so close to someone in such a long time and her warning still echoed in his ears.
Now that he had cast aside everyone that mattered to him, he had no choice but to continue. He stood up from the tree trunk, feeling dizzy and tired. It was as if he hadn’t even slept last night. He needed to press on. He felt a pinch in his neck and touched the swelling veins where the darkness was now spreading. Maybe Krista was right. He was going to die. Or would he die trying to stop it? He had been so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn't give her vision a second thought.
Ryland sat in a diner with his lone cup of coffee as he tried to piece his hunch together. He hadn’t done it before, out of fear. The truth scared him, and he couldn’t bring himself to face it. He reached into his pocket, pulling out two papery items from it and laying them both on the table.
The photo of him and Christoph smiled up at him. He flipped it over, hiding his brother’s face and revealing his handwriting on the back. He held it up to the blood-stained note, his eyes darting back and forth between it and the photo’s caption. He knew the “L” had a familiar curve, but this time he studied all of the letters, comparing every swoop and line in front of him.
It suddenly became clear. Tristan was close to him, but not close enough. Declan was a rival with his own agenda, but he would have no reason to suddenly start another war between factions.
Then there was the brick wall in his great-grandfather's crypt. Only one other person could have known about the oracle bones beside him. He flipped the picture back over, staring into Christoph's young face, nearly obscured by the glare on his glasses. He stared at the scribbled note: An Iker sheds blood without sorrow. An Iker seeks vengeance. An Iker will split this city again, from its roots to its skies.
“An Iker,” not, “The Iker.” Ryland understood now, but he didn't want to believe it until he saw it for himself. Something tugged at him, and again he thought of Krista. She should be coming with him. It'd be too dangerous to go alone. Then again, it'd be even more dangerous delivering the oracle directly to this mysterious shifter clan. Who knows what they had planned for Krista if he hadn't been there to save her from that shifter? He paid for his coffee and left, pulling his hoodie over his head as he braced himself against the cold. He had an Iker to find.
As Ryland drew nearer to the hillside next to the overpass, he felt a rock sinking in his gut. Everything about this was a bad idea. As he had said to the Rogues, he would have to do this himself. He paused, briefly, once he reached the end of the large culvert tunnel. Water was flowing out of it now, dirty smelling water that reminded him of the shifter he had killed. He looked out at the grass surrounding it.
He had lain here with Krista the other night, wanting to understand her and to feel her against him. How he had wished for that again, even though he didn’t know if she would bother seeing him again. For all he knew, she had already packed up and left, like Kalyn and Tory. Quietly, he vowed he would mend things with her and his pack once this was settled, assuming he made it out of here alive.
Kneeling down, he ran his hand along the soft grass. It was comforting, despite the noise of the city bleeding from the overpass and the smell of sewage spilling out into the nearby river. He savored the grass, because where he was going, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance to touch the earth again. He stared into the darkness of the metal tunnel that blended into concrete. It was ominous, cold air emanating from it and touching his face.
It was like a crypt of its own, and Ryland was willingly stepping inside to accept his fate.
The flashlight clicked on, shining a bluish-white beam around the tunnel as Ryland made his way deeper inside. He could have started in the cemetery, but he didn't want to risk running into any more shifters, even if it was the middle of the day. His shoes were already soaked through with foul-smelling water. It splashed up around his ankles, seeping into his socks, but he didn't care. All he could think about was how he was getting closer to those paintings that he had seen when he was here with Krista.
He could see them now, the strange depictions of a woman in a cage, a monstrous beast swallowing a man, fire engulfing the room. It was all too similar to the vision Krista had warned him about. If he was going to break this curse for his pack, he would have to keep going.
The tunnel would bring him back out into the cemetery if he continued to follow it as he had followed it with Krista. His ears perked up, catching the sound of distant water flowing. Rain must have been collecting in here for a while, but something didn't sound quite right about where the water was going.
It had been pouring out of the culvert ditch, but as Ryland got closer, he heard it branching off. The flashlight pointed at what looked to be just another part of the concrete wall, except there was something that was vaguely familiar about it.
Instead of concrete, there was a small hole covered with planks of wood, swollen with foul-smelling water. He remembered shoving Krista against it when she had seen the rat. Ryland hooked his fingers around the topmost plank and pulled. It came out easily, along with the others. Finally, he revealed another tunnel branching out, stretching into never-ending darkness. Ryland stared down into the dark water.
There was no way he could squeeze himself through the hole. Unless…He reached his hand through, shining the light until he found a place to hold the flashlight. Then, he shifted into a wolf, just barely able to wiggle himself into the hidden tunnel. He lifted his head, unsure if there was room for him to stand as a man again.
He took a risk and shifted back, grabbing the flashlight. The tunnel was just about the same height, and he was curious as to how it got here in the first place and why it had been boarded up. He noticed the tunnel had a distinct scent, compared to the other one. He could pick apart the different notes, sewer water, fur, wolf urine. Each one was a red flag for Ryland to turn back, but he refused to go back empty-handed.
Continuing on, he discovered there were more paintings along the walls. Men were shifting into wolves. There was a city, being overtaken by a large shadow made of darkness and fire. Ryland recognized two pointed ears sticking from the shadow’s head. It made him shudder to think that very shadow was forming something evil inside of him. He shook it off. The curse was strong, but he’d never let it reach its fullest potential.
He followed the paintings, staring nervously as the story progressed. There was an image of a dark hole as if the earth was cracked open. Tiny people were falling into it, their limbs flailing as they were consumed by more fire. Whatever this shifter clan's purpose was, they seemed to be obsessed with the end of the world. Finally, the paintings stopped, ending with just one enormous beast. His jaws were opened wide as he pulled people into his mouth. A circle of wolves was around him, bowing their heads in reverence to him. Ryland figured the monster was some so
rt of wolf god. Did that mean he was the same? Again, his thoughts were running rampant, and he tried to distract himself by thinking of what he’d say to Krista once this was all over.
Then, the tunnel ended in a room and, to Ryland’s, dismay it branched off into two directions, again. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his senses and to pick up any sign of the wolves. It was almost impossible to read the room with the overwhelming stench of the water rushing over his feet.
He shone the light to the left, then the right as he contemplated. If only Krista were here. Maybe she’d give him one of her visions to help give him some kind of clue. Taking a heavy breath, he chose the tunnel on the left. There were markings there, the same symbol of the star cut in half with an arrow. He figured that would at least be the best place to start.
The symbols, which were smeared across the wall in different shades of spray paint, glared at him. Ryland furrowed his brow. It was all starting to get too real for him now. Noises coming towards him told him he wouldn’t be alone for long. They were almost like whispers, the familiar ones that Ryland had heard. His arm started to burn again the closer he got to them.
Luckily he was prepared. He reached into his pocket, producing a silver pocketknife that once belonged to his father. It was almost a joke, using silver on a shifter, but it was a useful metal to weaken a wolf’s skin—to make them revert into their human forms. He opened the blade, brandishing it in front of him as the voices drew nearer.
They were human, but as the light shone on them, the group of figures panicked. "Intruder!" One shouted as he turned into a wolf. The others followed suit, and soon the entire tunnel reeked of mildew-coated fur and oily, musky skin. Hundreds of teeth flashed in the dark as they ran for Ryland. Ryland held his position, his knife at the ready. He would have shifted, but there were too many of them. Roughly eight wolves were crammed into the tunnel and he wouldn't be able to fight them on his own. Strongest alpha or no, any pack was still better than a lone wolf.
Wolf Pack Chronicles Box Set Page 24