Wolf Pack Chronicles Box Set

by Amelia Wilson

  Ryland turned to the side as the first wolf approached, and plunged his knife into its ribcage, just as the wolf was about to take a bite of his arm. It whimpered as it fell into the dirty water. It shifted back into a man, covered in a hooded robe. The others growled fiercely at him, their hackles raised and their lips curled in wicked sneers.

  They attacked all at once. Ryland felt the bodies piling on top of him, their weight slamming into him like a rogue wave. He nearly toppled back, but he held on, grabbing any handful of fur that he could and slashing his knife at it. If only he could weaken the pack to just a few, then he could shift and take the rest down on his own. The blade made contact with fur and skin. Ryland jumped back, trying to avoid the jaws of the wolves.

  Teeth sank into his shoulder, and he cried out in agony as a wolf caught him in an iron grip. He caught the jaws of one, holding them open as a tongue lolled out at him, still trying to get a taste of his flesh. Flinging it off of him, the wolf slid to a stop against the wet concrete. He swung his knife into the wolf grabbing his shoulder, the blade catching it in the eye. It was overwhelming, trying to determine which one would bite him next. Suddenly, he realized in horror that his hand was empty. He shone his flashlight frantically in the water as the wolves circled him, only to find the blade shimmering in the water. Just as he was about to roll and grab it, a pair of hands reached around and covered his head with a black bag.

  It was getting harder to breathe. Ryland could feel the fabric pulling into his mouth as he gulped for air, but the hands held tightly to him, suffocating him further. He was going to die before he had even found any answers, but he still threw his arms wildly at his attackers. He was taken down in moments, more hands grabbing at his shirt, pulling his jacket as they forced him to the ground.

  "You idiots haven't eaten, have you?" A gruff voice asked. "Trying to sink your teeth in the first living thing you see?"

  “Sorry,” A more shrill voice said. “It’s not often we get an intruder.”

  “Don’t you know who this is?” A low gravelly voice asked. “We’ve been trying to get this bastard for a while now.”

  Ryland gasped for air. “Careful, we don’t want to kill him.” Someone said.

  “You’re right. The master’s going to need him alive…for now.”

  There was devilish snickering, the last thing Ryland heard before a final struggled breath escaped his lips, and he fell, cold, to the ground.

  Ryland awoke, only to find himself still shrouded in darkness. However, he could just see the soft golden glow of thousands of candles and torches through the fabric. The ground beneath him was dry, but cold, like the concrete floor of the Rogue's warehouse. Boots scuffled towards him—they sounded like thick rubber. He sensed a presence hovering above him.

  "You did well, Eric," Ryland almost recognized the voice. It was cool and quite calm.

  “Now, let’s just see who the lucky final wolf soul is,” the voice said. A hand pinched at the fabric, nearly pulling Ryland’s hair as it was quickly ripped from his head.

  Time is a funny thing. It slows down, it speeds up, and sometimes it screeches to a complete stop. Ryland felt all of those in the few seconds he looked into Christoph’s eyes. Time had certainly changed him, and yet he was almost the exact same person who had left Ryland all those years ago. His brother’s dark hair had a hint of red like Ryland’s, and was neatly swept back.

  Ryland's heart hammered in his chest. He had never thought he'd see his brother again, and certainly not like this. By the look on Christoph's face, he was thinking the exact same thing. "Ryland…" the name sounded so foreign coming from Christoph's lips. He too was surprised and looked at Ryland as if he were a ghost.

  “You…you’re the one,” Ryland couldn’t even find the words. Christoph stepped away from him, afraid to be close to him or else it would be real.

  To Ryland’s horror, his brother was shaking his head at him in disbelief. “How did you…No. Not you. I can’t believe this…” he said with a shudder in his voice. He turned to face a heavyset shifter with thick facial hair. “Lock him up,” he commanded. “This was not the plan at all.”

  “Wait! Christoph!” He never thought he’d call out to his brother again. Christoph wouldn’t look at him, only turning away as another bag was placed over Ryland’s head.

  15. PARTING GIFT

  It had been days since Ryland had left. Krista's eyes were closed, deep in concentration as she steadied her breathing. She had been trying to conjure up a vision, since her nightmarish one the other night, hoping to catch a glimpse of where Ryland could be. It felt as though she was drifting off into a deep sleep before she found herself feeling cold. The vision was clumsily chopped together, wavering like a flickering candle. The air was suddenly musty around her, and she could just about recognize a small cluster of yellow lights glowing in a dark room.

  The rest was too hard to see. She could hear breathing, muffled and labored breathing from under a piece of fabric. Perhaps someone was suffocating Ryland. The thought of this made her chest sink. She couldn’t bear to lose him, not after she had finally found someone to understand her.

  At least she could hear the breathing. Maybe he was still alive—frightened and alone. Then, she could feel something more as she tried to feel out the vision more in her mind’s eye.

  Water. Rushing water. She felt how cold it was, and she could hear it running, even though she couldn’t see it. Ironically, for having “visions,” so many of her experiences focused on other senses. Then, over the water, and blending with it, was a voice. “Ryland?” It was nearly gasping, startled somehow.

  Krista couldn’t hold on any longer. The vision was fading now, and her eyes shot open as she gasped for air. She found herself back in Ryland’s room, staring up at the ceiling over his bed.

  Naked, Krista wrapped herself up in the fur blanket she had come to love since their night of passion. It was strangely comforting and reminded her vaguely of her wolf if she was even allowed to call him that. Rain pattered against the window to greet her as she woke up.

  She hadn't been wallowing in her sorrow the entire time. For the past few days, she had been channeling her energy using every technique her mother had taught her. She'd alternated between studying and trying to trigger her visions. It wasn't her kind of thing to mope over a guy. It certainly wasn't new for her to be ghosted by one. However, Ryland was different, and she found herself missing him. Despite this, she was also bitter about how he had left the state of things. A conflict brewed in her heart. She wanted Ryland, to be closer to him and be his companion. On the other hand, she didn't know if she would ever see that version of Ryland ever again.

  She had tried to leave the warehouse many times, only to be told of how unsafe it was. Even just going out for takeout required a pair of shifters at her side. Rush out, and then rush right back to the Rogue’s hideout— the routine of the days she spent waiting for Ryland to come back.

  Stacks of books covered the room. She had read so many of them. Useless facts and countless details of runes and magic swum in her head, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to ask Tristan for the oracle bones. She had asked him many times if Ryland was going to come back. Tristan tried to reassure her, to help her understand that this was just part of Ryland’s typical behavior to run off when things weren’t going his way.

  Something felt off about Ryland’s disappearance this time. He certainly hadn’t left on a good note with the Rogues or Krista. His words still hurt her, even though she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he didn’t mean them. Before he left, he had declared he would follow his own lead and lift the curse on his own.

  How could he have been so stubborn? Krista thought as she rolled her eyes at the thought of Ryland's pride, and how it had a habit of getting the best of him. She desperately hoped it wouldn't lead to his death as her vision had portrayed. What still haunted her, however, was the look in Ryland's eyes—how they had seemed to change color ri
ght before he told everyone off.

  Maybe he knew he couldn’t stop it, she thought. Maybe he was really an animal, aware that its death was imminent and thought the best thing to do was go off and get it over with quietly. If she believed that, then what was she still doing here? She had her own purpose to fulfill and without Ryland, how much of this was still up to her?

  She dragged herself out of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her bare shoulders as she looked at the rain spilling down the window. With the sky so grey, it was hard to tell what time it was. Krista looked out at the heaps of metal scrap and factories that plagued Central City’s downtown. She wondered if any one of these abandoned places was a potential hub for the enemy shifters.

  I’m not going to sit here another day, she thought. Not while Ryland’s out there on his own. Just as she had decided she was going to talk to Tristan, she heard a heavy creaking, as if an elephant-sized chair were being dragged across concrete.

  The warehouse doors were opening. It had to be Ryland. He was the only one who used those doors on a regular basis. The other shifters had stayed put while he was missing except for the small side trips to accompany Krista.

  She fumbled for some clothes, slipping into her typical garb of leggings and a sweatshirt. While she pulled on the sneakers Ryland had given to her, her chest leapt at his possible return.

  She hoped he'd be ready to reconcile, and to apologize for his behavior before he had left. Krista ran for the door and into one of the halls, headed straight for the training room where the warehouse doors and Ryland would be waiting for her.

  Her sneakers squeaked as she ran down the metal steps, her heart racing now. She tried desperately to push the thoughts of her vision from her mind, dismissing it as only a worry that didn’t need to be pursued further. As she sprinted down the last hallway and pushed open the double doors to the training room, her eyes widened.

  The loud creaking filled the room once more as the giant metal door began to close. Tristan was standing next to it by the button on the wall, his back turned to Krista. As she moved in closer, she discovered to her disappointment that Ryland was nowhere to be seen.

  A shifter passed by her, a woman who gave a sad nod to Krista. Krista watched with confusion as the woman gave a polite wave to Tristan and ducked under the closing door. There were dozens like her, shifters walking off into the large alley leading to the downtown streets. It was a mass exodus of some kind, and as the doors closed with a hiss and a final clang, Krista realized that she was alone with Tristan.

  "What's going on?" Krista asked. Tristan, surprisingly, was dressed differently than usual. It was strange for Krista to see him sporting a casual t-shirt and jeans. When he turned to face her, she noticed the healing bruises on his face where Ryland had punched him. He seemed tired. The sleepless nights had taken their toll on him too.

  Krista waited for an answer, and Tristan tried to grasp for the words. Finally, he put it the best way he could. "The Rogues have…disbanded," he said curtly.

  “What? Why would they do that?” Krista would have thought the shifters would wait for their alpha’s return. Even if he had messed up, it was a huge change for the Rogues to pack up and leave all of a sudden.

  “Because I told them to,” Tristan said. Krista could tell this was a decision he had had to think long and hard about. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t been sleeping as much. “There have been …doubts circulating in the pack since the last pack meeting took place,” he explained further. “Once Declan brought it to everyone’s attention that Ryland couldn’t keep them safe, the Rogues started to question if they wanted to be a part of the pack or not.”

  “But what about Ryland?” She asked. “He could be still out there. They didn’t wait for him to come back first?”

  “Why would they? You saw how he treated all of us before he made his grand exit.” Tristan was still bitter about the incident, and it was apparent in his voice.

  “That wasn’t the real Ryland back there,” Krista said defensively. “I saw something dark in his eyes. It had to be the curse talking, not him.”

  Tristan couldn't look at her and only shook his head. "I warned him," he said. "I tried to tell him his temper was getting out of hand. Look where that's gotten him. It's time he knows that he can't treat us this way, and come back as though nothing happened."

  “So, you think he’s just out moping somewhere?”

  “I believe so. Declan’s words really got to him during that last shifter meeting. I know he wasn’t confident in his leadership abilities after that. I’m not surprised that he would take off for a few days.”

  “But he could be in danger. I heard him. Someone called out to him in one of my visions.”

  Tristan pushed up his glasses, this time wincing as his finger brushed against his bruised nose. “Are you still having those?”

  “I’ve had one, yes,” she said. “I have an idea of where Ryland might be. If we hurry, we can help him.”

  He was thinking it over, and Krista desperately hoped that somehow he still had some concern for his alpha. He walked away, disappearing for a moment into a small office. Krista's heart sank until Tristan reappeared with two black umbrellas, and a jacket draped over his shoulder. He handed one to her. "You lead the way," he said.

  Rain pelted against the umbrellas. Krista was careful not to let the water drip onto her as she carefully navigated herself down the hill next to the overpass. As she drew closer to the culvert drain, she felt a tugging in her chest. She hoped that, if her vision was correct, Ryland could be somewhere in here. The rushing water immediately made her think that this was a good place to start.

  "What's the significance of this place?" Tristan hollered from a safer location. Despite his casual garb, he was still iffy about the rain-soaked grass in front of him and stood like a plank at the top of the hill.

  "When Ryland and I were looking for the oracle bones, we were chased by those shifters," Krista explained. "We found a passageway that brought us out here. In this drain pipe, there's a wall where we found those drawings—the prophecy."

  “And you think Ryland’s in there somewhere?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping, yes.”

  Krista's foot nearly slipped in the muddy earth as she crept closer to the tunnel. Her mind drifted back to that night she had spent with him, lying in the grass, his warm hand holding onto hers. She closed her eyes, just holding onto the moment for a second before letting it go.

  She whispered a wish to herself that Ryland would still be alive once they got to him. Something was off about the culvert drain. Where water should have been pouring out, there was only a small trickle, as if it were a faucet running without water pressure.

  Looking up, she discovered that the hole in the drain had been boarded up. A heavy metal sign was nailed to the boards: ‘Danger! No Trespassing! ”

  “I don’t understand,” Krista said. “This wasn’t here before.”

  “Perhaps they’ve just added it,” Tristan suggested.

  "No, something is strange about it." Krista moved closer, studying the letters. "This isn't an average city-issued sign," she told him. It was black paint, crusted over and running clumsily down the sheet of scrap metal, homemade and recently crafted.

  "I think someone else made this," she added.

  “How do you think we should proceed?” He asked. “We don’t have the tools with us to get this open.”

  Krista pondered, her mind reeling with thoughts of Ryland trapped inside the tunnel. She mentally retraced her steps, quickly remembering the cellar-type doors next to a headstone. "The cemetery," she said. "There's another way into the tunnel. If we can head over there quickly-"

  Tristan was already turning his back, his hand in his pocket as he wandered back up the hillside. “Where are you going?” Krista asked, impatient.

  “I’m not picking up any signs of Ryland here,” Tristan said.

  “Of course you’re not. It’s raining,” Krista insisted. She c
ould tell there was something Tristan wasn’t telling her, hence the poor excuse. “You don’t want to find him, do you?” Krista asked as she followed him. Tristan stopped in his tracks.

  “I don’t need to,” he said coldly. “I’ve been his beta for the past few years, ever since Christoph left. Ryland believes he’s the strongest alpha in the city. Even if we do find him, it will take an extreme effort just to coax him back to reality.”

  “But what if he’s in danger, or if the curse is finishing him up? Does that mean nothing to you at all?”

  Tristan wiped the droplets of rain from his glasses. "Ryland clearly doesn't need me anymore, or any of us for that matter, or he wouldn't have left the way he did. For all we know, he's already taken care of it." His face was sad as he held out his hand for Krista to take. Krista ignored it, walking up the hill on her own. Tristan reached into his coat pocket. "It was an interesting ride, to say the least. I'm sorry if this was a fruitless journey for you. For a moment, I really did believe you were the oracle."

  He opened his hand, holding out the silk bag of oracle bones. "I think Ryland would have wanted to give these to you," he said. Krista took them, the weight of the bones shifting over her fingers as they landed in her palm. "What about the warehouse?" She asked. "What are you going to do with it?"

  “I’ll give it a few more days,” he said. “I’ll have to clear out Ryland’s room, but the rest of the equipment, along with the warehouse will be put up for sale.”

  So, that was it, the end of the Rogues. Krista really couldn’t believe it. “Can I stay there until he comes back?” She asked.

  “I don’t have high hopes,” Tristan said. “Get back to your shop and your clients. The Rogue’s are gone, but I’ll contact a few shifters to keep an eye on your place just in case.”