Broken Moon: An Urban Fantasy Wolf Shifter Series (Kait Silver Book 1)

by Laken Cane

  As she’d been stuck inside me for so long, I was now stuck inside her. And that was terrifying. How had she survived being hobbled for so long? I wouldn’t survive it. My mind would break in the first couple of hours, I was nearly certain.

  The alpha burst from the shadows suddenly, full of silent threat, and she did not drop to the ground and show him her belly. She went after him for his perceived rejection—not just for now, but for twelve years ago—her fangs flashing, growling and snarling and full of death, and I could only cover my ears and close my eyes and hope that I would not die here tonight.

  I thought—hoped—that he might force me to shift to my human form, and try again with my wolf another time, but he did not. He let her fight. She was too weak to do much, but her rage carried her. She had been twisted up inside, and her brain was fucked. Just fucked.

  Calm down, I pleaded. Don’t make him hurt you. Don’t make him kill you.

  She wouldn’t listen. Darkness swirled like a violent dust storm inside her, flinging debris, growing into a tornado. It was as though as her physical strength grew, as her time released into the world grew, so did her absolute mad rage. There were twelve years of horror inside her, and it had to come out somehow.

  I wished she could have been stronger. I wished she could have been able to deal with her trauma in a different way. Her hatred exploded up from some dark, locked box inside her, hatred that would only destroy her. I wished she didn’t hurt so damn much, so much that with her lack of control, she wanted to hurt those who had hurt her.

  The alphas.

  Both of them.

  And I couldn’t stop her. I wasn’t really even there anymore.

  Chapter Thirty

  The wolf’s strength exploded like her rage, and she could do anything. She was powerful enough to rival the alpha’s strength, and he was one of the toughest, most physically superior wolves in the world. He had to be to maintain his status and protect his pack.

  But suddenly, the weak as a kitten, starved, confused, newly born female wolf was no longer in awe of him or his world. She was no longer weak, and she was no longer submissive.

  She was a force to be reckoned with, and she took him by surprise.

  The warriors who’d remained behind in the woods raced across the ground to help fight against whatever force they felt overpowering their alpha, and when they arrived, they milled about, confused to see only the new wolf.

  The alpha did not want to hurt her, but in the end, he had no choice. She was rabid in her rage and dangerous with her power, power she didn’t even understand.

  He shifted to his human form, and she had ripped his chest open with her sharp, eager claws before he could force her to shift back to her human form.

  “Kaitlyn,” he shouted.

  I woke up, cold and naked on the ground, flinching at his bruising grip. His hands bit into my upper arms, arms that were slick with blood, and the first thing I realized was how badly I hurt—but it was the pain of a physical fight, not the pain of my hobbled wolf. And this was so much better.

  But the alpha was…he was torn apart. Gaping, messy wounds, sliced into him from my wolf’s claws, wounds that would heal slowly until he could become his wolf and heal them. He wouldn’t shift until he knew my wolf was controlled.

  “Oh my God,” I murmured. “What did she do?”

  He shook me. “She? She did nothing, Kait. You must accept your wolf. You must deal with your past and allow yourself to heal.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said, truly horrified. “I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Jared. You saved her. She—”

  “She is where you put everything,” he bit out, impatient and angry, maybe more because he hadn’t really understood what would happen than at me. “You stuffed all your pain and rage and grief into that part of yourself, and that is what I have freed.”

  “She’s twisted up because of her hobbling,” I denied, trying to shove him away.

  “You twisted your wolf,” he told me, grim and determined. “You have to understand that, Kait. I allowed you to shift. Now you have to rid your wolf of all the poison. You will never be free unless you do.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Damn you, Kait.” He grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. “You did this. Your rage was blacker than anything I’ve ever seen, and it will destroy you if you don’t accept it, and then let it go.”

  God. He was right.

  I threw my head back and screamed, a scream that ended in a moan of grief and agony, all the agony that had been inside me for twelve years. He was right, and I knew it. I’d stuffed all my pain into my wolf, and that had made it bearable, despite the huge agony of my constant physical pain. That pain hadn’t only been because of my hobbled wolf. That pain had been because I’d stuffed everything inside and it had grown and grown with no outlet, until tonight. Tonight, when I’d tried to kill the alpha.

  And I understood something else, all at once, and it was staggering. Since birth, I’d been groomed to shove down my feelings. To suck it up. To not be a “princess.” What else was I going to do with all the emotions I was never allowed to feel?

  “My father,” I cried suddenly, my voice raw and my heart breaking all over again. “Oh, God, my dad.” And then I was breaking down, sobbing as I remembered, and it was as though I were that young teen again, stoically and helplessly watching my formidable, invincible father die as my mother screamed and begged and the pack jeered and called for death.

  I just hadn’t understood how very much it had fucked me up.

  As Jared held me, all I could do was cry and repeat the same thing. “My dad.”

  “Your dad,” he murmured finally, “was a monster, Kaity.”

  That anyone would believe my saintly, strong father was a monster was such a foreign concept that I couldn’t even comprehend it. Not yet.

  But it helped me regain some control, and I forgot about my own woes when I really saw the alpha’s dire physical condition. And I noticed the subtle withdrawal in his eyes. He’d understood why my mad wolf had attacked him—even when I hadn’t—but he was fading a little too fast, and that should not have happened at all.

  I shouldn’t have been able to hurt him, raging wolf or not. Not like that. And he was suspicious—I didn’t realize exactly what he was thinking—what they were all thinking— until one of the warriors muttered, “Demon wolf.”

  And then I saw the truth in Jared’s eyes. He believed it, as well. They thought I was some sort of demon, not only because I’d killed the exsoloup when it was said that only a demon could, but because my newly shifted baby wolf had hurt him. Badly.

  Everyone knew I’d scarred my previous alpha, had marked him though I hadn’t even found my first shift when I’d done it. They knew I fought the monsters, that I saw spirits, that I had a little something extra inside me.

  I thought of my affinity for the demon blade, the fact that I’d actually knocked a boss demon from his body when my blood had mixed with his knife…

  “Fuck,” I whispered. Maybe I was a demon wolf.

  Jared stood, and his eyes, as he stared down at me, were very deliberately empty. “My warriors will see you to Shadowfield, Kait. Go be with your mother and…” He raked his stare over my rapidly healing body, a body that was healing about a hundred times faster than his, even though I was not shifted. “Rest,” he finished. He backed up a few steps before bursting into his shift, and then he wheeled around and raced away, blood flying.

  He would heal.

  But things were different between us—and not good different. Could I shift and not try to kill anyone now? I didn’t know. I thought I could, because I saw things more clearly now. I hoped I could.

  I could control my wolf because I was my wolf. Simple as that.

  I didn’t want the warriors to gather around me and lead me to Shadowfield, and they didn’t want to. “Turn away,” I told them sharply, when I felt their intrusive and hostile stares on my naked body.

  They woul
d not turn away, though, and I was forced to hunt for my pile of clothes as they watched me, my chest tight with frustration and embarrassment. But finally, I stood straight and proud and refused to give them permission to humiliate me. I dressed slowly, dragging my clothes on over the blood—some of it mine, most of it Jared’s—and in the end, all of them were looking the other way—except for one.

  The warrior who continued to watch me was a man about my height, with light blue eyes and neatly trimmed facial hair. He looked vaguely familiar to me—but I thought maybe I remembered the look in his eyes more than his face.

  Once I was dressed, I walked up to him. “What’s your name, wolf?”

  He curled his lip. “Why? So you can go whine to the alpha?”

  “Oh no. I can take care of myself, which I think I just proved.” I moved a little closer. “I kicked the shit out of your alpha, asshole. Do you really think you would stand a chance against me?”

  He wavered. He put his stare on something else, and he didn’t open his mouth again. When I turned to stride from the clearing and they all—six of them, though somehow it had seemed like more—started to follow me.

  “Tend your alpha,” I snapped. “I have a car.” When I jogged from the area, eager to be alone, they stayed put.

  I needed to be alone to think. I’d gotten my shift. I’d fought the alpha. I felt different inside. Stronger, definitely. And I just needed to be alone to think about it. The pain I’d lived with for so very long had simply disappeared, and as strange as it seemed, the absence of it bothered me. It was going to take me a little bit to get used to my new normal.

  I wasn’t worried about my alpha. He would be fine. But I was worried about whether or not he would pull a Thorne and cast me from the pack before I’d really even gotten in. I didn’t want to live at Shadowfield, but I wanted badly to belong to a pack. Even a hostile one. They’d come around when they figured out I wasn’t a demon, wasn’t going to hurt them, and wasn’t going to betray their alpha.

  I was not my father—speaking of things I needed to think about.

  When I reached my car and climbed inside, I picked up my phone to check for messages, and discovered that I had fourteen voicemails and twenty-seven unread texts.

  Before I could read them, my ringtone sounded. “Shit,” I muttered, feeling guilty but unsure why. “Detective. What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t even bother asking me where I was or why I’d been incommunicado. “I found her, Kait,” he said, and then he grunted like the air was knocked out of him, and for a few seconds, there was only silence.

  “Detective,” I said, a little too loudly. “Rick, what’s going on? Who did you find?”

  Before I could ask again, he came back to the phone, sounding just a little winded. “The redhead Lucy dreamed about. Marcy Davenport. Your demon led me to her. Not directly, but she’s here. He told me she was.” He hesitated, and I knew whatever was coming was absolutely going to be bad.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “He possessed Lucy, Kait.”

  “What the hell,” I murmured, staring unseeingly through my windshield. “What the hell?”

  “There’s no time,” he said. “The girl’s here, somewhere. The demon’s here, and he wants you. You have to come and figure this shit out before he kills us all.”

  Son of a bitch.

  “Give me the address.”

  He did. “Hurry, Kait.”

  “I’m on my way,” I told him, and when I kicked the gas and spun out of my mother’s driveway, I caught a quick glimpse of eyes glowing in my rearview. Someone had been watching me.

  I shivered as cold chills chased each other down my spine.

  Alpha.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The demon had been good for two things. One, I’d gotten the blade from him, and that blade was going to kill a lot of assholes. Two, he’d led us to the screaming girl in Lucy’s dreams, a girl we might otherwise never have found.

  Marcy was being held in Falton, a small, somewhat isolated town about thirty minutes outside the city. The town was a shithole known casually as the Pocket by its residents and “outsiders” both. It was a place that anyone who didn’t live there—including the police—avoided going.

  I was forced to take time to drive to Shadowfield, because my mother had my knife. No way was I going to fight that demon without it. I called her on my way there, and she promised to be waiting with the blade.

  When I arrived, the on-duty guard peered from the guardhouse at me, then opened the gates without giving me any shit. Word had spread that my mom and I were Pack now, and like it or not, they weren’t going to go against their alpha’s orders.

  My mom was waiting for me just inside the administration building, and when she saw me pull up, she rushed through the doors, Lennon at her side. I was happy to see that the seer was healed.

  I jumped from the car to meet them. Thankfully, neither of them asked questions. My mother wordlessly handed me my sheathed blade, and as I buckled it on, rushing back to my car, she called, “Kick ass, home skillet!”

  “Mom,” I said, my eye-roll in my voice, then, “Love you.”

  Lennon followed me. “Give me one of your traps,” she said, when we reached my car.

  I didn’t waste time asking questions. I opened the hatch, grabbed my kit, and tossed her one of my spirit snares. She cupped the snare in her palms and whispered a few unintelligible words until the trap began to glow with a gentle blue light.

  I was almost afraid to touch it when she handed it to me, but when I hesitated, she shook it at me. “Take it,” she hissed. “You won’t trap him without it. Even with it, you’re going to struggle.”

  “Thanks, Lennon.” I trusted her. She’d cast a spell to ignite the trap, and I had no doubt it would aid me in catching that elusive and determined demon. The light went out when I gingerly accepted the trap, but it wouldn’t matter. I knew the light was still there, even if it wasn’t visible to me.

  I didn’t ask her what she’d seen. Sometimes it was better not to know.

  She told me anyway. “I’ve seen two realities. In one, you defeat the demon. You trap him in the snare I just enchanted. You keep your stolen blade, a blade you should never have taken. A blade that…” A whisper of a sigh floated from her parted lips. “Well, it’s yours now, for better or worse.”

  I swallowed hard. “What else did you see, Lennon?”

  She reached out to help me fasten the snare to my belt when my fingers became too clumsy to work correctly. “He took you, Kait. He took the blade, which you are now part of. If he gets the blade, he gets you.”

  “What do I do?” I murmured, more to myself than to her.

  She answered anyway. “You don’t let him get the blade.”

  Yeah.

  “Hang on, Lucy,” I muttered as I sped toward the Pocket. And a few minutes later, “Don’t you hurt her, you evil fuck.” I slapped the steering wheel. “Don’t you hurt her.”

  But I knew the chances of Lucy escaping with her life were low. I shoved that fear away, though I’d meant to stop doing that. Tomorrow I’d stop.

  I didn’t drive into the Pocket. My car would have been stolen immediately or broken into at the very least. I parked off the road leading in, locked up, and hoped it’d still be there when I returned. I strapped on my weapon belts, and this time, I took my gun—not that it would do a whole hell of a lot against the demon. I slung my leather kit bag over my shoulder, then sprinted down the quiet road.

  Before I got far, I spotted the detective’s car alongside the road. Apparently, we’d had the same idea. I ran on, and just before I reached the town, I was forced to slow down and try my best not to be seen by the roving gangs of the Pocket.

  Males and females had their separate groups, and from what I’d heard, the females were the ones you wouldn’t want to run into—especially if you were a man. Being a cop wouldn’t mean Rick was safe from them. On the contrary.

  I sent him a text as I walke
d, my head swiveling from shadow to shadow. I could handle myself against hostiles, but bullets were another story. The detective and I were going to have some trouble tonight.

  I’m here.

  We’re on South Street.

  OMW.

  Careful coming in.

  Der.

  I dropped my phone into my pocket and raced across a street to stand silent and motionless behind a tree as vehicle headlights lit up the night and the dim voices I’d heard a few seconds earlier became abruptly louder.

  The patrolling vehicle was an old black jeep, with at least five men sitting or standing with shotguns and rifles and likely a few handguns, as well. I didn’t move until they’d turned off down the street, and then I slipped between two dark houses, their occupants sound asleep and quite secure in the knowledge that their people would protect them. Of course, they didn’t know about demons, but still.

  The brutal town was sort of like Jared’s Shadowfield or Adam Thorne’s Stonebridge, and those who lived in the Pocket were as vicious as any werewolf. And they were human, so they could afford to be less careful than wolf towns. Wolves went to great pains to avoid getting themselves on the radar of human police enforcement. Those in the Pocket simply didn’t give a shit.

  I had to close my mind off to the dark despair of Falton as I made my infuriatingly slow way to the South Street house. I’d been inside the borders of the Pocket only once, but like most people even remotely associated with law enforcement, I’d studied the maps. I knew where South Street was, and I knew the quickest route to get there.

  But along the way there were so many sounds of torment that I had to force myself not to stop at every single one of them. A baby crying, a woman screaming as a man yelled, a kid calling for his mommy.

  Once as I hurried past the mouth of an alley, I saw three dark figures fighting. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female or if two were ganging up on one. I just knew I had to get to South Street, and the horrors of the Pocket would continue long after I’d left it. The place was hell. No wonder the demon was here. He was probably not the only one.