Bitter Truth

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Sheridan went on, “In our first stage, the Test of Strength, Regan and Charlotte must demonstrate who is stronger by pushing each of these objects as far as possible in one shove. Ladies...”

  I stared at Sheridan a second longer, waiting for the rest of her instructions. But she turned away, gesturing for us to move into position. Was that really it? I had been expecting a fight with a bear or something, but we just had to push some junk around?

  On one hand, it kinda seemed too easy. But on the other hand, Regan had been training her entire life for exactly this kind of thing. I stole a glance and found that she wasn’t watching me. She was already in position, entirely focused on the task at hand.

  Regan lowered her head and ran at the first boulder. She turned at the last second, and her shoulder connected with it. A crack split the air, like she was a stone herself.

  The boulder rolled a few feet before stopping.

  She looked at me expectantly. My turn.

  I took a deep breath, drinking in the smells of the watching werewolves and vampires, and huffed it out again. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and flung myself into the boulder with all of my strength. The shock of the impact jolted through my spine.

  It rolled—and stopped within inches of hers.

  Were the cheers a little less enthusiastic than before? I couldn’t tell over the ringing in my ears. I raised my triumphant eyes to Owen’s and found him smiling. He was the only smiling face among the vampires. They were all glassy-eyed and cold. His mother all but bared her teeth at me, and I shivered at the thought of having her as an in-law.

  But the competition didn’t end with the boulder. For the next hour, we pushed bigger rocks, hefty logs, and even those junker cars around until my muscles burned and I couldn’t tell who was winning. My only comfort was that it seemed to exhaust Regan, too. Sheridan must have had the two of us push dozens of objects, some already set up and some brought out at various intervals by pack members.

  It felt ridiculous. What kind of competition was this?

  But Regan kept going, so I did too.

  Eventually, Sheridan stopped us, and I tried not to flop to the ground. My tongue lolled out the side of my mouth. There was a collective pause and the crowd shifted as a man I remembered as Judas Prescott from the council meetings walked over and passed Sheridan an envelope. My muscles tightened as she tore it open and read the results.

  “The winner of the first phase is—Charlotte!”

  Shock and then excitement erupted through me, momentarily burning away the fatigue. I couldn’t believe it—I’d won. But my moment of glory was soon destroyed as Sheridan’s words sunk in. First phase?

  The audience applauded politely as several pack members moved into the arena to clear it out. I sat on my haunches by the open doorway, watching with worry as the empty ground was repopulated with logs.

  Regan shifted back to swig from her bottle of water. I didn’t dare do the same. It was harder to tell how scared and exhausted I was as a wolf.

  It also gave me plenty of opportunity to study her expression. She wasn’t scared or worried. Her focus was laser-sharp, and losing the first phase had only sharpened it further. She analyzed the logs, scanned the crowd, and glanced at me. I saw her redouble her determination. Regan was just getting started, while I think I might have blown all my energy pushing rusted-out cars.

  “A pack is not only led with brawn. It must shatter obstacles and crush its enemies. The second phase begins!” Sheridan announced. Her words echoed through the arena over the sudden and total silence in the stands. Pack members shot each other questioning looks. I could practically hear the question aloud: If we weren’t at war with the vampires anymore, then who were these enemies she spoke of?

  Far back at the edge of the stands, near a break in the wooden walls, my attention caught on movement. I blinked and zeroed in using my wolf’s sight to make it out from so far away. A flash of pale skin caught my eye as an arm and then a hardened cheek slipped through the break in the wooden beams. Vampire—my hackles rose instinctually even as my mind still worked to identify the creature. But there was no mistaking my wolf’s intuition.

  My gaze swung over to where Owen still sat with his family underneath the tent that had been set up to keep the sunlight off them. I counted faces quickly, but the same group was still present. No one was missing. I glanced back in time to see a pair of red eyes flash as they glared at me and then disappeared into the forest. I knew those eyes—they were the same ones I’d spotted in the forest the day Regan and I had hunted together. With everything else going on, I’d almost forgotten about him. But now I realized, whoever it was hadn’t forgotten about me. Someone was watching me. My wolf’s lips pulled back, baring my teeth at the spot I’d last seen the man. But my body’s internal warning system had quieted and I knew without looking that the man had gone.

  I blinked at the sound of the crowd’s shouts and cheers, and realized Sheridan had begun talking again. I caught the last three or four words as she finished describing the rules of the second phase, but none of it registered.

  I forced myself to forget about the strange vampire and focus on the contest.

  Regan stepped into position first, opening her mouth wide to flash gleaming white teeth. The crowd responded with oohs and ahhs. Then, with a pointed look at me, she closed her jaws around one of the thickest logs. It had been quartered lengthwise so the entire circumference could fit in her mouth.

  Regan clenched her jaw. A crack split the air. Wood chips sprayed.

  She’d bit a tree in half.

  I flinched as a chunk of wood hit me square between the eyes. I thought I heard muffled laughter but refused to acknowledge it. I kept my head high. Regan continued to split log after log. Chips of wood flew as she went. I squinted at her from across the arena, imaging her as a beaver instead of a wolf. Cheers from the wolf side of the stands echoed in my skull, magnifying my anxiety—and my temper. The crowd couldn’t be more obvious as to their favorite. Even the vamps were whispering and pointing. I held on to the anger, channeling it, using it to fuel my energy. It surged through me, but it wasn’t so much adrenaline as a rush of temper. It waned well before my turn came.

  Sheridan called time. There was a pause while the pack elders counted.

  “Twenty-three!” Judas Prescott yelled out.

  The crowd roared. I didn’t look at them.

  “Congratulations, Regan! I believe that’s a new record,” Sheridan called from the stage.

  Regan passed me with unreadable eyes. Was that sympathy? Or smugness?

  Sheridan called my name. I stepped forward until I stood in front of a log. Its bark was rough and brittle-looking. I knew that must make it easier to snap them. I told myself I would break through.

  The crowd went silent.

  “Time starts when you begin,” Sheridan called out.

  I opened my jaw and slid it around the log. The wood was rough and tangy in my mouth. I took a breath and clamped down as hard as I could. Pain shot from my teeth to the nerve endings and all the way along my jaw. Other than that, nothing happened.

  I felt my energy wane even as I applied another round of pressure.

  A few chips of wood broke free and fell into my mouth. I choked and dropped the log. A few people booed.

  I told myself it was because they didn’t want to see me fail—instead of the opposite.

  I looked up at the sound of footsteps. Sheridan’s expression was neutral. Too neutral. “Charlotte, do you need a moment? Some water?”

  I didn’t trust myself to shift right now. Not in front of all these people. Not with this much anxiety. My luck, I’d shift back without pants or something.

  “Would you like another try?” she asked.

  Part of me wanted to refuse, to prove I could do this and do it better than Regan. I wanted to be tougher, to prove myself. But to my horror, when I opened my mouth to try again, a whine came out. I planted my paws and covered the whine with a growl, but S
heridan wasn’t fazed.

  “All right. Go ahead and try again.” Sheridan gestured to the log but didn’t retreat to the stage. The message was clear: This wouldn’t take much longer.

  I bent down and slid the log into my mouth. I ignored the way my tongue went dry at the taste of the wood and increased the pressure of my jaw. Nothing. I adjusted my teeth so that my molars were leveraged against the flat side of the log. I bit down. Like before, pain shot from my teeth up into my gums.

  I bit harder.

  A few chips came loose and fell at my feet. I held the pose for a few more seconds, the last drops of energy draining fast. With a final crack, the log split in two and I collapsed to the ground. The crowd went wild.

  I watched Sheridan’s polished shoes turn and retreat to the stage. My muscles screamed at me, begging me to stay put, to give in and lie here until it all went away. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself up to standing. I didn’t look at Regan. Or Owen. Or anyone.

  “The winner of the second phase is—Regan!” Sheridan’s voice echoed from the microphone. The crowd cheered. She waited them out before speaking again. “We’ll reconvene in one hour for phase three. Refreshments are available in the outer walkway. Enjoy!”

  The sound of shuffling feet merged with the hum of blending voices as the audience made their way up the bleacher-steps or huddled into groups. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sea of pale faces as they filed toward the stairs and into the outer hallway that ran behind the stadium. I thought I caught sight of Owen just before he was swallowed up by his family and their army of bodyguards. He wasn’t smiling.

  A lump formed in my throat. I hated this moment. I hated the Test of Strength. I hated my father, that I wanted his approval, and my mother for not preparing me for this.

  “Charlie,” Regan called. “Come on.” She gestured with a nod toward the backstage area Sheridan had left through. “We’re supposed to wait back here.”

  “Coming.” I followed her back, hating how empty my voice sounded.

  But mostly, I hated how much I wanted a family—and how much I was willing to go through to get one.

  Chapter Three

  Regan

  The visit from the strange vampire this morning had ruined me. I couldn’t concentrate, I could barely think, and my nerves were so frayed, I’d blown the first round of the test. Now Charlie and I were tied—and it was all the vamp’s fault.

  If I ever saw him again, I was going to kill him before he could say another doubt-infested word about my pack or my mother. She would never have been friends with a vampire. Never. Which meant everything else had to be lies too…

  But no matter how many times I told myself that, the seed of doubt had been planted. I couldn’t look at a single member of my pack, especially the council, without the wheels turning. Could any of them be capable of murder? Of course they could. We all had. Except, usually, our kills were vampires. Not one of our own. I’d always told myself that was different, but maybe a killer was a killer.

  I said little to Charlie during the break between tests even though we’d both shifted back to our human form. Mostly, I didn’t want to give away how thrown off my game I really was. I needed this win. I needed to shut her out and make sure she couldn’t catch up to me later. Make it a clean victory, a landslide. Dad would expect nothing less. He’d come by my room last night and let it slip that the contest would work on a points system. If I could pull far enough ahead now, maybe they would just call it before we got to anything that involved inflicting physical harm on one another.

  Maybe I could salvage what was left of my relationship with my sister. All I could think about was whether that vampire’s warning extended to Charlie. Was someone after her, too?

  Sheridan climbed the steps to the podium, her heels clicking across the wooden stage. I forced myself to refocus and listen as she quieted the crowd. “Phase three of the Test of Strength will test our opponents’ skill as a leader both physically and mentally. Please bring out the rope,” Sheridan called.

  Judas Prescott appeared with his son, Ronnie, who winked at me as he passed. Coils of rope were draped over their shoulders and around their arms. Judas’ biceps flexed under the weight, making it hard to believe someone as lanky as Ronnie could even lift it. But Ronnie’s wiry frame was deceiving. He carried the heavy braids without a problem. They dropped the rope in the dirt halfway between Charlie and me and disappeared behind the stage.

  “The game is tug of war, ladies.” Sheridan smiled down at us, but her eyes were unfocused, flitting back to the crowd without really seeing our faces.

  I couldn’t help but feel a boost to my confidence. Tug of war? It seemed so elementary. Then again, after the day they’d just put us through, our muscles might not agree.

  “In addition,” Sheridan went on, “you may each choose two team members to assist you in the game. Regan, you won the last test so you choose first.”

  I scanned the faces staring back at me from the crowd. They looked eager, every one of them. Except the vampires. My eyes landed on Owen and his family. My lip curled back automatically at the sight of him.

  He wasn’t looking at me so I stared back at him, studying him for a moment while I pretended to deliberate on my choice. He looked as rigid as ever, his jaw hard, his shoulders stiff with what I imagined to be cruelty. His expression didn’t quite match that, though. He looked … strained. And what was he looking at? I twisted and followed the line of his gaze. The only thing there was Charlie, and beyond that, the stage. Sheridan? No, it didn’t go that far. Why in the hell would he stare at Charlie? Maybe he felt sorry for her. But that didn’t fit with him. Maybe he was hungry. My fists tightened.

  “Regan?” Sheridan prompted.

  I scanned the crowd again and hesitated. As soon as Sheridan had issued the instruction, I knew who I’d choose, but now I wondered. Would it look bad if I chose one of my friends? This was supposed to show my strength of leadership. But in the end, I wanted to win, and I wanted a team I trusted. My eyes landed on Carter, but it was the death stare from his sister beside him that made me call out her name before his.

  “Bevin.”

  The crowd cheered as Bevin descended the stairs. My dad nodded at me from the stands. I’d made the right choice. I exhaled.

  “Charlie, your turn,” Sheridan called.

  “Oh, um …” Charlie hesitated. I looked over at her and ignored the knot that had formed in my stomach that morning and never left. “I guess …”

  She scanned the crowd and I could see the tension in her. It dawned on me I had no idea who she would pick. My friends glared at her from their spot in the stands. The knot twisted in my gut, making it hard to swallow. If that vampire was right, my pack clearly had it in for Charlie, and someone might even follow through on that. Someone capable of murder.

  “Carter,” Charlie’s voice rang out, yanking me out of my worrying thoughts.

  My jaw fell open.

  A few clapped. Most didn’t. Carter made his way down to the arena without looking at me. I knew he did it on purpose, that he could feel my gaze burning holes in him as he passed. Bevin, who’d come to stand beside me and had already shifted into her wolf without missing a step, growled at him as he passed. He didn’t look at her.

  “Regan,” Sheridan prompted. “Your second choice?”

  I looked back at the stands, at the eager faces of my pack. My thoughts were colder this time, more calculating. I didn’t just want to win. I needed it. Carter could not be allowed to help Charlie beat me. I debated between Al and Brent. Both were walls of strength, even in their human form, but Brent was colder about it. The lack of feeling in him always made me nervous.

  “Choose Al,” Bevin said into my ear.

  “Al,” I called. He got slowly to his feet, pushing off his large legs as he stepped down the bleachers.

  “And Charlotte? Your second choice?” Sheridan said.

  “Uh …” Charlie looked at the stands, her eyes darting back and f
orth. A moment passed. Carter leaned down and said something low in her ear. “Brent,” Charlie called out.

  I shot Carter a look, but he just shrugged.

  Sheridan waited until everyone had reached the arena floor and shifted to wolf form. “You will line up with each team at either end of the rope. When the signal is given, you may begin pulling. The first team to step over the center line loses. Please move into position.”

  I knew Bevin was the most aggressive so I arranged us with Bevin in the front and Al in the rear. I slipped the rope in between my teeth where it lay over my tongue. Dirt and dust caked my mouth. I ignored it and dug my paws into the ground, anchoring myself.

  When the whistle blew, I bit down and yanked.

  The rope bucked and my body went with it. I jerked forward, wincing against the pain in my jaw as the other team forced us forward a step. I dug in until I found my footing and the rope pulled back enough for me to step back into place. I felt the force of another pull from behind me and the rope gave some more. A satisfied smile tipped the corners of my wolf mouth as I bit down and yanked for all I was worth.

  Chapter Four

  Charlie

  My teeth hurt. My ankles hurt. My shoulders felt stiff. My joints screamed at me as I struggled to keep my paws planted. Soon they’d refuse to obey at all. I felt the rope slip in my teeth and bit harder. Dirt caked my tongue. I let it slide down my throat and kept pulling.

  In front of me, Carter was crouched and leaning backward, trying to gain ground and move us farther away from the center line. The losing line. Instead, a surge of new tension came through the line and he was pulled forward. One step. Two.

  No tension came from Brent behind me. The rope felt slack where it left my jaw and led to his. I’d been afraid of this the moment I’d learned I’d need a team. His jaw had closed over the rope enough to make it look like he was trying. Other than that, he didn’t move. It didn’t surprise me. Carter did. I’d chosen him mostly to mess with Regan’s head, since it was the only real weapon I had left. The fact that he was actually helping, instead of only pretending, was a bonus.