A Pack of Blood and Lies

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A Pack of Blood and Lies Page 6

by Olivia Wildenstein


  I wasn’t the type of person who eavesdropped, but this conversation was in no way a secret. I bet Lucas was thrilled I was hearing it. I bet he thought it made them look appealing. All these girls throwing themselves at shifters because they were muscled and powerful and could turn into fierce creatures.

  Few humans were privy to our existence. Most people still believed we were fictional beings, which packs perpetuated because not everyone was hot and bothered over a person who could morph into a beast. There were those who despised what we were.

  Like the hunter who’d killed my father with a silver bullet.

  People often hated what they didn’t understand.

  No one understood why a girl was born to the pack, and that inspired hatred.

  Chapter Nine

  The paintballing arena resembled a post-apocalyptic junkyard. A rusted old bus with blown-out windows sat at the center of muddy earth strewn with various corroded car parts and scraps of metal tall enough to shield a body—and sharp enough to slice through one, too. A plastic tunnel linked the north part to the south part of the arena. A row of brick walls arranged like a labyrinth ran the length of the western fence. A log cottage sat along the arena’s northern fence. The rooms were dusty, the furniture disemboweled and overturned, the cabinets crooked and broken, their doors flapping like broken bird wings.

  On the east side, there was a narrow tower with a winding staircase, and a platform with a plank leading down into a wooden boat that seemed to have washed up from a playground. The round windows were grimy and the corridors tight and dark.

  A couple minutes ago, we’d been given long-sleeved overalls, walkie talkies, helmets with visors, heavy guns loaded with paint pellets, and a mission. Besides defeating the enemy team, we had to locate five clues hidden amidst the junkyard.

  Everest’s grumpy mood lifted. Even August seemed somewhat less encumbered. These boys loved playing wargames.

  Everest was on my team, but not August. He was on the red team with Lucas. Liam and Matt were greens like me. The teams had been predetermined before we showed up. Not that I would’ve chosen to be on the red team. I was plenty happy to have Lucas on the enemy team.

  I had my back to the brick wall. On the walkie talkie tuned into a special bandwidth only accessible to our team, I heard Liam’s voice crackle, asking for Matt’s position. Matt mentioned the tower. I looked up and spotted him, and then I spotted the barrel of his gun aimed straight at me. Something hard blasted against my stomach.

  The bastard shot me!

  I was his freaking teammate. He grinned, and then his voice grizzled on the walkie talkie, “Oops. I shot one of ours. Sorry, Clark.”

  I glared at him, which just increased his wolfish grin.

  I walked off the field, gun and hands raised to indicate I was on a timeout. Two pellets flew at me. One from a red. The other from a green. Did these assholes not know the rules? I’d never played before, but I’d listened to the briefing.

  I sat in the green camp, waiting for my coach to give me the go-ahead to return to the field—not that I wanted to return. I listened to the voices crackling over the walkie talkies. Heard one of my teammates announce that they’d located item number two and were bringing it back to the camp. Then heard another one announce he was on a timeout. A couple seconds after he walked in, I went back out and raced toward the wooden boat, where I found Everest.

  “Fucking Matt shot me.”

  “I heard.” He pulled open a trapdoor just as footsteps sounded above our heads. Dust flaked off the low ceiling. “The rusted pipe’s somewhere in the boat apparently. Search the back.”

  I walked toward the hull, bumping into a hard body steeped in shadows. The green light on his helmet told me he was on my team, even though I couldn’t see his face.

  A pellet burst against my back. I jerked, then gritted my teeth as I turned. Through the fog forming on my visor, I met Lucas’s pleased leer. “You’re out, Clark.”

  Lucas didn’t shoot my teammate. He kept the gun leveled on me. “Better run along before I shoot you again.”

  “Play nice, Lucas,” I heard the person behind me say. Liam.

  He circled around me and then retreated, the weathered boards groaning beneath his footfalls. I hadn’t expected him to stay, but I had expected him to be shot. He wasn’t.

  I marched past Lucas, shoving him with my shoulder, and he chuckled.

  “Asshole,” I muttered.

  I walked back to the camp, not bothering to lift my gun. I was hit six more times, once on the jaw. The pellet broke the skin.

  After a minute of stewing inside the camp, nursing my newest wound, I decided that if they weren’t going to play fair, I would play dirty too.

  The second I was back in the game, I went to find Lucas, disregarding direct orders from our team captain—lo and behold, that was Liam—to assemble on the north side to strategize. I noticed Lucas’s black hair first, peeking out from underneath his helmet, and shot him square between the shoulder blades. He turned, arms raised. I shot him again. And again. I took great pleasure in seeing the colorful paint splatter his overalls.

  When I was blasted on the waist by one of his teammates, I didn’t even care. I stalked back to the camp and refilled my ammo.

  “Don’t know north from south, Clark?” Liam asked, barging into the camp seconds after me, a large splash of paint on his chest.

  “Are we playing as a team now? Because if memory serves me, Matt and two other people from the greens shot at me. You probably didn’t notice, though, too wrapped up in barking orders.”

  “Matt thought you were—”

  “Oh, don’t give me that! I have a freaking green light flashing on my forehead.” I wiped the fog from my visor. “Who got you?”

  “August.”

  I smiled.

  We didn’t speak after that. Liam was way too busy studying the video feed of the arena. Our coach radioed in that I was clear to reenter the field.

  “We’re still missing the compass and the pair of yellow pliers,” Liam said without turning away from the monitor. “I think the compass is in the tunnel. Want to come with me to find it?”

  “Are you planning on shooting me in the back?”

  “I don’t shoot people in the back.”

  Sure you don’t.

  He held my gaze. “I’m not sure what you heard about me, but from the way you’ve been treating me, I’m guessing it’s all bad.”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “I’ll cover you,” he said. “Come to the tunnel with me.”

  “Whatever. Fine. But know that if you shoot me, I’ll make your life hell.”

  He had the audacity to smile. “More than it already is?”

  I erupted from our bunker and headed toward the plastic tunnel. While Liam radioed in our position and asked if anyone had eyes on the exit, I peered inside. An, “all-clear,” crackled over the walkie talkie.

  “Search the middle of the tunnel,” Liam said.

  “Sending the girl in first. How gentlemanly.”

  Liam’s eyes flashed behind the fog in his goggles. He pushed past me and flopped onto his stomach and started creeping down the tunnel. “Cover me then.”

  So I shielded him. I thought I caught the glow of red. Sure enough, someone from the enemy team shifted inside the dilapidated cottage. I raised my gun and fired through the window. My pellet hit its mark. The guy turned in my direction. I couldn’t see who it was, but did it matter? He retreated into his camp’s bunker with his gun and hands raised. On the other side of the tunnel, I noticed another red light. I clambered over the dirt piled atop the plastic tunnel and shot at the person before they could duck and locate Liam.

  I hit the person’s helmet.

  He raised his hands and gun just as a pellet smacked the base of my spine. “Got you again, Clark.”

  I grabbed my walkie talkie. “I’m out. Lucas is at the south entrance of the tunnel, Liam.”

  Just as I spoke that, Lucas ra
ised his gun to me again, but before the jerk could get another shot in, a pellet hit him on the thigh.

  I wheeled, half expecting one of my teammates to have shot him, but found one of his own instead.

  “Stop picking on her, Mason,” August growled.

  Lucas glowered at him before prowling off.

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that,” I said.

  “This is a preview of the trials, Ness. They’ll stab you in the back the first chance they get. Drop out. You hear me? Drop. Out.”

  “I drop out, and I have to pack my bags this afternoon.”

  “I’ll talk to the elders.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He huffed. “I won’t stand around to watch you get hurt.”

  I laid a hand on his forearm. “It’s a game, August. They’re not going to kill me.”

  “They might not kill you, but they’ll—” His body jerked as a pellet smacked his back.

  Liam had crawled out the other side of the tunnel and opened fire.

  “What will we do to her, August?” His voice was as harsh as his close shot.

  “You won’t hesitate to hurt her,” August bit out.

  “Didn’t you hear? Nothing can hurt her.” Liam was tossing my words back at me with such a derisive tone, that for a second, I tightened my gloved grip on the gun, tempted to shoot at him.

  But I took the high road; I spun and walked away.

  If this was a preview, then at least I knew what to expect.

  Chapter Ten

  My body resembled a sheet of blotting paper. Like ink smudges, bruises marbled almost every limb on my body. The worst one was on my inner thigh.

  My team ended up winning. Not that I’d felt in a celebratory mood. After the game, I’d vanished into my bedroom to take a hot bath, then donned leggings and a super soft off-the-shoulder tee. I skipped wearing a bra because the wires dug into my bruised ribs. On the upside, my cheek and jaw were looking a lot better. My werewolf blood was kicking in and working its magic.

  I simply prayed my body wouldn’t decide to change tonight. I didn’t think I could take any more pain.

  A text from Lucy had me heading to the laundry room in the late afternoon. Now that the weekend was over, all the beds had to be changed.

  I loaded up the industrial-sized washers with sheets and pillowcases and duvet covers, trying not to gape at certain stains. I washed my hands twice then started on the ironing of the loads that had already been washed and dried. I fed sheet after sheet through the rotary iron, watching the furrows smooth out of the fabric, feeling them smooth out of me, too.

  I cracked my neck, working out the kinks brought on by lugging heavy gear and constantly watching my back. As I reached for a bulky duvet cover, I felt a disturbance in the air, caught a whiff of sawdust and Old Spice. I turned to find August standing in the doorway, knuckles raised.

  He froze. Without knocking, he slid his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Your aunt told me I might be able to find you here.”

  Of course she did. “Did you come to tell me how stupid I am again?”

  Surprise carved his face. “I never said you were stupid.”

  I grabbed the duvet cover, folded it in half, and thrusted it into the iron. I heard him approach…smelled him approach.

  “Ness”—his voice was on my neck—“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  I didn’t turn. “So why are you here?”

  “I’m here to tell you that I’ve decided to return to active duty.”

  I let go of the duvet and whirled. “You’re going back out there?”

  “Just for a few months.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes raked over my face. “I miss it.”

  “Is that why you broke up with Sienna?”

  “News travels fast.”

  “Is it?”

  “It’s part of the reason. The other part is that she’s a sweet girl who deserves a good guy.”

  “And you’re not a good guy?”

  “I’m not good”—he watched the rotary iron spin—“for her.” He wet his thick bottom lip.

  I’d never noticed August’s lips before. He had really nice lips.

  “Will you give me your phone number?”

  “You want my number?” I breathed.

  “Yeah. You know”—he smiled—“so I can call you.”

  “You’re not leaving because of me, are you?” I realized how conceited that sounded only after it popped out of my mouth. I raked my hair back. “You know, because you don’t want to see my ass handed to me.” A spot of heat spread over my jaw and throat and spilled into my chest.

  Shut up, Ness.

  Shut. Up.

  A groove appeared between August’s eyebrows. “No,” he said after a long pause. “I just need to get away from Boulder for a while. I’ve been here for three years. I don’t like staying in the same place for long stretches. I have my entire life to grow roots, but until I have to, I’d rather run wild.”

  “And going to fight in… Where are you going?”

  “It’s classified.”

  “And going to fight is your idea of running wild? Why can’t you run wild in the Rockies or in the Appalachians?”

  A smile grew on his face. “Worried about me?”

  “Um, yeah.” I felt the tips of my ears heat up. “You’re going God knows where to fight God knows who. Of course I’m worried.”

  Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Quit stalling, and give me your number.”

  He had his cell phone poised in his hands. It was unlocked, so I lifted it from his fingers, created a new contact, and typed in my number.

  “Don’t run too wild, all right?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “You too.”

  I felt all torn up over his departure. Ten years my senior, August Watt had been like a big brother to me way back when. He’d taught me to play backgammon while our parents had never-ending meals. He’d taught me to climb my first tree. He’d walked with me to the ice-cream parlor, and when the weather was crap, he’d collect me from school in his pickup.

  Before good sense could knock into me, I hooked my arms around his neck and pressed my cheek against his chest, against the heart that beat there, strong and steady.

  “Thank you for being nice to me. Since I came back, but also during all those years before I left.”

  For a second he didn’t move, but then his arms wound around me and pulled me in tight. “Don’t ever thank someone for being nice. Especially not me.”

  We stayed locked together until one of the dryers beeped so incessantly I broke the embrace to power the machine off.

  “Keep in touch, okay?” His voice was a little thick.

  I raised a paltry smile—the best I could muster. “I’d need your number for that.”

  He pressed on his phone’s screen, and my cell phone started ringing.

  “Pick up,” he said.

  I frowned. “Okay.” I swiped my phone off the top of a pile of clean sheets, then slid my finger across the screen. When I saw him raise the phone to his ear, I raised mine too.

  “Hey,” he said, and then he winked and turned around, disappearing the way he came. “What are you up to?”

  Silly. This was so silly. But it got me smiling. “Laundry.”

  “That’s always code for something else.”

  “Is it?” I laughed. “What’s it code for?”

  “Everyone knows what it’s code for.”

  I touched my navel, which suddenly felt tight and hot. “Enlighten me, why don’t you?”

  That night, just as I was falling asleep, a knock resounded softly through my bedroom. Since the pack had left, I imagined it would be Everest, but as I walked toward the door, I smelled menthol and bacon grease.

  Evelyn.

  Had she come to tell me she was leaving? My heart thumped as I drew open the door. Hugging her arms, she stood in the darkened corridor, her face free of her usual
heap of makeup. The red rims of her eyes told me she’d been crying.

  My fault.

  My selfish fault.

  She pressed her arms tighter in front of the plush black bathrobe Mom had given her for Christmas a few years back. To avoid parting with it, Evelyn had mended almost every seam. Would she impart on our relationship the same treatment she’d given her robe?

  As her eyes raked over the bruises marring my skin, she pursed her lips.

  I wanted to explain, but when I opened my mouth, a tiny sob lurched out instead. Evelyn’s arms came loose, and then they laced around me. She pulled me against her chest, combing my hair back as I soaked the fluffy fabric with my tears.

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “No, querida. I will never leave. Just as I could never hate you, even if you transformed into a dragon.”

  A wheezy chuckle glided out between my blubbering. “Those don’t exist.”

  “Gracias a Dios.” If she hadn’t been holding me, I was certain she would’ve crossed herself.

  The corridor lights flickered and buzzed.

  “I am ready to hear…more. Will you tell me?”

  I nodded and tugged her inside. Once the door was closed, once she’d settled on the bed next to me and dragged her lotion-softened fingers through my hair, I told her about how I’d tried to become part of the pack after my father was shot in his wolf form by a hunter. I told her about Heath and what he did to Mom when she’d begged him to train me.

  What I didn’t tell Evelyn was that I’d entered the contest to become Alpha. I neither wanted to worry her nor have her tell me how dumb it was.

  Chapter Eleven

  When my phone rang on Wednesday morning, I answered without even checking the number. For the past three days, all my calls had originated from August. We talked every day, and when we didn’t talk, we texted.

  I’d never communicated with anyone as easily. He made me laugh. He also made me feel things…things that were apparently against pack rules. Things that made me wish he’d come back to Boulder sooner than planned.

 

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