Claw of Exile: He Kills to Survive (Exiled Book 1)

by J. K. Jones

  Ryu sets up his tent, ignoring the other wolves around him. He finds a nice secluded spot and falls asleep within minutes.

  Chapter 21

  Micah finds him later that morning.

  His face is clear and clean, body fresh as the morning sunlight streams behind his head. Micah clasps his hands together, body relaxed and tranquil as he gazes at him.

  “Come.”

  Ryu follows, not sure where exactly he is being led to. It’s still pretty early, most of the men have not gotten up yet so Ryu knows they don’t plan to leave.

  Micah takes him to a small clearing, there is a lake there, water a gorgeous turquoise shimmering in the light. Crystals are dancing on the surface, Micah serenely takes off his gear, disrobing one by one all of his accessories before he is completely shirtless.

  His abs look like they were carved by the Gods, his rustic skin smooth and endless in the morning light.

  Ryu knows what this is.

  Micah wants them to bathe together as they used to when they were young. It was a ritual they cultivated as mates, cleaning and bathing was something Micah cherished deeply. An act of extreme intimacy and closeness, reverence even, to clean your mate was considered the highest honor. Now, things are different. Ryu doesn’t want to share that anymore. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with Micah.

  He steps back, body coiled, ready to spring away at the nearest touch.

  The river looks tantalizing, as well as Micah who takes off his pants and wades calmly into the still waters. He stands waist-deep in the water, the sun rising a lavish orange hue above his head.

  Not for the first time Ryu is utterly stricken.

  Hate and desire all mesh into one. A longing fills his heart and hollows out his chest. They are not in the past anymore. They aren’t children anymore.

  Ryu has forsaken that life.

  Shred that old tired skin for a brand new one. He wants to turn his heart to stone. Ryu doesn’t want these kinds of memories anymore, or to relish in the way Micah’s hair clings to his forehead, or how his black eyes penetrate the depths of his soul.

  “Come.”

  A command, one only used when he knows Ryu will run. He clenches his jaw, roughly tossing his jacket on the ground, then his vest, noticing how Micah’s eyes cling to him.

  Ryu is thin—thinner than before. His flesh sticks to his rib cage, his muscle lean and lithe. He takes off his leather pants, entering the water with just his boxers on.

  He stays far away, body taut as the cold water touches his skin.

  “Come,” Micah stresses, his hand stretches out.

  Ryu desperately wants to rebel. He fights it until he can’t a second longer and takes his outstretched hand. He hates Micah more for doing this to him. Micah takes him into his arms, placing his large hands on his hips, thumbing his sharp hip bones, and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Micah shudders, pulling him dangerously close.

  “What do you want?” Ryu utters vengefully, his teeth clenched and expression lethal.

  Micah doesn’t respond right away; he keeps his head bowed looking at the water below.

  “To apologize.”

  Ryu rips away, he scrambles back so hard and so fast water splashes everywhere. “No.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.”

  Micah is laid bare, his clothes stripped and his expression naked with anguish. Ryu doesn’t want to relieve this, to see the pain all over again. His lips curl spitefully, he wants to dig a hole through Micah, cut him open and unspool his insides.

  “You see this,” Ryu demands, voice shaking. He turns around, exposing the flesh on his back. “That’s what they did to me.”

  It’s ugly.

  A large amount of scar tissue is from when they took the sharpest blade and peeled the skin off his shoulder, one by one. He was awake of course. They suppressed his healing so he could feel every inch of torture.

  Flaying was a common punishment for traitors.

  “I remember,” Micah responds. “I sorry—I should have stopped them.”

  “Or this one?” Ryu points to his lower stomach, where they had wrapped chains around him and threw him into an icy lake. He almost didn’t survive, but someone had saved him last minute.

  “For everything—Ryu.” Suddenly his mask cracks, it shatters, and he kneels in the water. “I am unworthy.”

  How long did he wish for Micah to say those words? How many years did he wander in the wilderness being told he was nothing? He took abuse from every angle, and he did it all hoping to spare Micah.

  “Get away from me,” Ryu spits. “I hate you.”

  “No—please—” Micah grabs his arm roughly.

  “Let go of me,” Ryu grimaces, trying to wrench his arm away.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t care—” Ryu flails wildly, eyes widening in a subtle panic. Images of the past flash before his eyes, the council, Kenyon, the war that broke them apart—everything. Ryu spent so many years blocking it out, pushing the past into a deep dark hole until he could no longer see it, until he could no longer think of it.

  Now Micah wants to drag it to the surface.

  To speak about things that tore his heart apart and caused him the deepest pain. To be exiled from his pack and cursed by the Gods was enough. But having Micah turn away from him—that was what destroyed him.

  Micah chose the Silvercrest Howlers over his mate.

  He chose those vile and wicked beasts over Ryu.

  For that, he will never forgive. Nor will he ever forget.

  “Byakuren,” a voice admonishes.

  At the shore Trmon is there, eyes wide in shock. Micah releases Ryu, he stands quickly and moves back to allow him some space. Ryu wrenches away speedily, stomping out of the water, not caring that Trmon can see his almost naked body.

  Trmon looks away, turning his back to Ryu to keep his modesty. Ha! Ryu wants to laugh. He snatches his clothing, quickly throwing them on before striding in the other direction.

  Fuck this. It’s not worth it.

  He will find the cure himself. He stomps through the forest floor, bitterness growing like a tempest. The fucking bastard. The nerve of him to just grab him and apologize! As if something so simple could cure the decades of hurt between them.

  Ryu wants to scream.

  He walks for a long time, longer than he cares to remember. Ryu stops abruptly, looks around, and realizes that he is completely lost.

  Shit.

  Chapter 22

  Everything looks the same. Ryu grumbles under his breath, trying to go back the way he came, each turn he makes leads him deeper and deeper into the unknown. He sighs deeply, knowing that the only way would be to reach out to Micah through their Māku.

  It’s not exactly telepathy, more like having an emotional understanding of where one’s mate is, some people can even see through their eyes. However, Ryu closed that portal a long time ago. It would take everything in him to reopen it.

  With a stubborn determination, he heads onwards, hoping against hope he can find them again and not delay their journey too much.

  They still need to reach the mountains to speak to the Master of the Moon. Ryu still isn’t sure how viable that information is, but he trusts Randolph and knows the man would not lead them astray.

  Ryu finds a small clearing; it’s a place he hardly recognizes, and the second he steps in he knows he’s made a big mistake.

  A trap.

  Wolves emerge from the treeline, large and hulking, their scents are foreign, and being this close to the Outlands Ryu knows they can only come from one place.

  The Blackfang Hounds Clan.

  He pivots, only to turn face to face with a large brown wolf. The animal snarls, snapping its teeth at him menacing. Ryu holds still, body strained awkwardly.

  The rustic wolf sniffs loudly, it towers over him.

  “Good work boys,” a man says, he approaches Ryu, striding over confidently. “Now, w
hat is an Omega doing out here all alone?”

  Ryu unsheathes his sword.

  “Now, now, no need for that.” He grins, teeth like tar. “You’ve entered the Blackfang Hounds den. There is no turning back.”

  Ryu keeps his mouth shut. These men aren’t here to talk.

  “You’re a pretty one. Not my type, but I’m sure the men will find a use for you.”

  This is bad.

  “There are too many of them, young wolf,” He-man continues. “Put your sword down and we can talk about this. I won’t harm you unless you give me a reason to.”

  Never trust a Blackfang Hound. Their words are often sweet but have a poisonous sting. Ryu learned long ago that nobody in that Clan could ever be trusted.

  He steps forward, only for the pain to explode at the side of his head.

  Ryu blinks several times before everything fades to black.

  -

  They tie him to a tree.

  Ryu wakes, momentarily disoriented, head pounding, and vision blurring. Fuck—why did he keep getting hit in the head? He flexes his fingers, feeling the dig of the rope around his wrist. The knot is tight, restrictive, and will not budge.

  Damn—no way out.

  He closes his eyes, thinks, feels—pushes gently at the bond he has with Micah. There—he found him. Ryu lets him know his location, they talk long enough for Micah to understand and assure him he’s on the way.

  Ryu closes it just as quickly.

  If it wasn’t for Amaya he wouldn’t have dared, but they are running out of time. They needed to move past this area before the Blackfang Hounds became aware.

  The man from earlier crouches beside him.

  Ryu looks around, sees that most of the men are eating near the fire. It seems like they caught several small cottontails and are roasting them.

  “Where are you from Omega?” He asks, chewing loudly.

  If there is one thing Ryu hates more, is people who talk with their mouth full.

  “The Outlands.”

  “An exile?” he asks, then smiles. “I can smell it on you. You’re cursed.”

  What else is new? Ryu says nothing, eyes moving away.

  “Pretty thing like you still shouldn’t be wandering around alone out here—”

  A twig snaps.

  “Leave him be.”

  Ryu turns sharply, eyes widening in disbelief and horror. Standing several feet away is fucking Deryn, he wears his combat clothes, his face calm and collected. “He’s mine.”

  This isn’t happening.

  No wonder the Blackfang Hounds were able to find them so quickly. Micah has a traitor in his ranks—and it is his best friend. Ryu feels sick all over. Of course, Deryn would not let the maiming of his younger brother Markus to go. If the young pup is scarred for life, there is no doubt he would want to kill the wolf responsible.

  Yet, that still didn’t make any sense!

  Doesn’t Deryn hate the Blackfang Hounds for killing his sister? Doesn’t he openly detest them with great abhorrence?

  Deryn tosses the man a bag of silver. “Good work.”

  “Pleasure doing business.” He mocks a bow, before opening the bag and counting the silver. Ryu stares at him in shock, stomach turning with anger.

  “Surprised?” Deryn mocks. “I know. I have friends in low places. Take his hand and lay it on the tree stub.”

  They grab Ryu roughly, forcing him on his knees, and untie one of his hands.

  Ryu struggles wildly wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one! Deryn has always hated him and now he would get his revenge for Ryu hurting his brother.

  Fucking hell! Where is Micah? Ryu tries to twist, but their grasp is ironclad, they force him roughly, taking his slim hand and holding it down on the stump.

  “You deserve this, you murderous fuck,” Deryn roars. “I’ve waited so long for this moment. Micah has always been blind to you and now he will finally see the truth. My brother Markus is crippled for life! And now you will suffer the same fate!” He grabs Ryu’s Katana.

  “Cut it off!” the guy from earlier chants loudly, he leans closer, his grimy face looking even more grotesque by the fire. “Cut it off!”

  Ryu’s heart jumps.

  As a cripple, he will no longer be able to fend for himself. The world is cruel and wicked, Ryu felt his eyes sting from the injustice. He never meant to hurt Markus, he only intended to save him from being killed by Kenyon. He knows his pleas would fall on deaf ears. He braces himself, praying to the Gods that he will bleed out naturally and not have to live without his hand.

  Deryn sneers, holding the blade above his wrist. “This is for the Silvercrest and all the people you screwed over!”

  Ryu squeezes his eyes shut.

  Deryn cries out, bringing the blade down with swift demonic malevolence.

  Only it doesn’t land.

  There is a sickening crunch as Deryn slices their heads clean off. He moves with supernatural fluidity, weaving and ducking, cleaving them in two.

  Blood sprays in his face.

  Ryu watches him wield his Katana with grace and practiced precision. Then they are all dead. Deryn takes off his ropes and hands Ryu back his sword.

  “Micah?” Ryu says needlessly. He already figured it out.

  Blackfang Hounds loved money. Most of them would do anything for a bag of silver. It would take nothing for Micah to dispatch a messenger, to say that there is a warrant out for a wayward Omega, that whoever brought him alive would be rewarded.

  Deryn nods, wiping the blood from his brow. “When you didn’t return, he got worried. However, we know the area well. These Blackfang Hounds would sell their souls for silver. He sent me to retrieve you. Let’s go. There are a few miles ahead of us.”

  Ryu sheaths his sword and follows after him.

  Chapter 23

  They walk for several miles. Ryu watches him coolly, his mind going over the events of the day. He should have known better. Deryn would never betray Micah. They were almost like brothers; their fathers grew up together and their mothers used to be the best of friends.

  Nobody cares more for Micah than Deryn.

  It isn’t like his friendship with Trmon, which is light and easy, a relationship boarding on mutual like of the finer things. Trmon is versed in the arts, diplomacy, literature, and wit. His head mostly in books and his eyes methodically keen for arguments.

  Deryn is different.

  He’s a brute. He trains relentlessly with Sensei Musashi, studying the ways of the Samurai. Building his life according to the ethic code of bushido. He fights gallantly, puts honor and duty above all else.

  They were never friends.

  However, Deryn at one time did respect him, not as Micah’s mate, but as an experienced fighter. That was so long ago now. Deryn keeps his eyes ahead, face impassive as they walk through the forest.

  “Thank you,” Ryu relents quietly.

  “I didn’t do it for you,” Deryn snaps.

  Ryu knows that he didn’t have to do anything. He could have refused or let someone else take his place. It seems that he did it because Micah asked. “Still…thanks.”

  The Delta is quiet for a long time before he speaks.

  “Micah told me what happened with Markus. I didn’t want to believe it,” Deryn says. “He told me you saved Markus’ life. At the time I hated you for it. You were worse than those damn Blackfang Hounds…. however, I trust Micah with my life…. if he says you did it…. then I believe him.”

  Ryu doesn’t know what was said.

  He can only assume that Micah told Deryn that he maimed Markus to save his life. It had all been a big mess, something that Ryu regretted for a long time afterward.

  “Markus is all I have left…. especially after Mina was taken from us so quickly….” Deryn continues.

  Ryu nods in understanding.

  Mina was Listeria’s closest friend before she died. He recalls the days they used to play around together, Listeria was never good at making
friends, being a shy Beta, but Mina always had a kind word to say.

  “I heard Listeria is expecting her first pup,” Deryn says conversationally. “Hard to believe Rocky knocked her up so quickly.”

  Ryu keeps silent.

  He misses her—dearly. She was similar to Amaya, soft and beautiful, never looking at him as anything other than a friend. However, when things went sour, he wasn’t able to keep in contact with her, Rocky made sure they never associated with each other ever again.

  The rest of the walk back is quiet, both of them deep in thought.

  After a few miles, they come across a clearing, most of the pack is sitting around waiting, they perk up when Deryn approaches.

  Micah is the first to come forward, although he does not rush, Ryu can see the panic written all over his face. He grabs Ryu crudely, touching his arms and face, eyes darting all over him.

  “What happened?”

  “Just a few Blackfang Hounds. I was able to bribe them easily. Nothing too serious. A small head injury.”

  “Ryu—”

  “I’m fine,” Ryu cuts him off, uncomfortable with all his fussing. He steps away from Micah, adjusting the Katana on his back. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Only Micah doesn’t let go.

  His grip tightens, and he moves his hand around his waist. Ryu instantly freezes, hoping against hope that Micah learned his lesson from before and will let go.

  “I’m sorry,” Micah says again. “About earlier. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s fine,” Ryu responds hastily. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”

  Micah regards him steadily, his expression unreadable before he steps away. The rest of the wolves pretend not to watch them closely, but Ryu knows better.

  They pick up the pace, passing easily through the Blackfang Hound territory and into the Outlands. They are getting close to their destination and for some reason it makes him fraught with nerves.