Pack of Wolves - Maggie Claire (most popular novels of all time .TXT) 📗

can hear the unspoken blame in her voice—and the unmentioned threat. I’m the cause of all this trouble; if something happens to Suryc, will Siri forgive me? Or will she blame me? Would she hate me? Disown me? Hunt me? I gulp as I hunker down against her back. Carefully I brush the edges of the breeze, subtly spinning its flow until we are no longer fighting against the wind. Faster, faster! I urge it to blow, hoping that we will make it to the House of Vultures in time to save Cyrus and Suryc.

***

“I have to admit, you’ve lasted longer than I expected,” Wolf confesses as he pulls a tiny fishbone from his mouth. His lips smack in satisfaction while Cyrus observes the meal without eating. A meager plate of stale bread and stew sits before him, but Cyrus cannot force his hands to reach for the spoon. “My new friend is even surprised by your strength. I was assured that you would not last an hour under his thrall, and you’ve managed an entire day.”

Holy gods, only a day? Cyrus shudders at the revelation, his spine crackling straighter with his anxiety. What horrible future does tomorrow hold? How long can I watch Iris suffer? How many times must I endure her death? Cutting his eyes to observe Wolf, Cyrus struggles not to heave as he remembers the events of their last encounter. I saw your true feelings toward Iris, brother. You say you love her, and yet you would harm her too. The violent streak inside you is turning even against her.

“No questions?” Wolf murmurs dejectedly as he piles more food onto his plate. “I felt sure you would at least wonder what kind of creature my new friend is. His shapeshifting powers are beyond compare, aren’t they? And the way he sees down to your very soul—such a rare and amazing talent, isn’t he?” Wolf compliments the monster with an edge of envy in his voice. “What I wouldn’t give for such an ability!”

Iris—the real Iris—is alive and well with Siri and the rest of the Ddraigs. She did not die on my lap, she was not reborn into some gruesome wraith, and she is not in love with Wolf. Everything I’ve endured so far has been a lie. Cyrus’s mind replays these thoughts, desperately attempting to soothe his nerves. I feel raw, like I am quaking, body and soul—like my consciousness teeters on the brink of a steep cliff, and if I fall down into those depths, I will never return to this life.

“You’re not eating, little brother. Going on a hunger strike?” Wolf chuckles as he rips off a drumstick from the baked chicken plated beside the fish filet. “That solves nothing—you realize that, right?”

Cyrus doesn’t answer, nor does he lift his hand to feed himself. It’s too much effort even to breathe. A storm of howling rage and terror wells inside Cyrus’s heart—it takes every ounce of strength he has left just to keep from screaming. Wolf clatters a knife on a battered plate, grunting in frustration when Cyrus doesn’t react.

“I actually liked you better when you were fighting with me. Now you’re just pathetic!” Wolf grumbles as he stands and slides his chair closer to his brother. He tears large chunks of bread from Cyrus’s plate, drowning them in broth before holding them up to Cyrus’s lips. “Either you take it willingly, or I force it down your throat. You decide.”

It takes a level of strength Cyrus did not think he possessed to open his mouth and remain silent. He doesn’t react to the flavorless, gummy food as Wolf shoves it down his throat. His teeth don’t even crush the bread before he swallows it. Wordlessly, Wolf pulls bits of chicken off his own plate, adding them to Cyrus’s stew.

“Come on now,” Wolf mumbles as Cyrus sips from the outstretched spoon. “You need your strength!”

“Why are you doing this?” Cyrus’s voice rasps, a single tear slipping down his cheek as Wolf stirs more meat into his meal. “I don’t understand. Why are you being kind?”

“Oh, it’s not kindness,” Wolf replies as he holds out more bread. “It’s entirely selfish, really. If you starve yourself, I don’t get to break you. As long as your body is intact, I can have my fun.”

“You are a fool,” Cyrus croaks, broth dribbling down his chin as he spits out the contents of his mouth.

Wolf stills, eyeing the knife beside his plate with dangerous intent. “Think carefully on what you say, brother.”

“Or what? You’ll beat me? Or send that creature back here to torture me again?” Cyrus chuckles then, his tentative resolve shattering. Smiling wickedly at Wolf, he continues. “Those are empty threats, Wolf, castrated by the events of the day. I have persevered against your monster, and I know what you want. But I do not fear it—oh no! I will embrace the moment when my mind breaks! I run toward the day when I am free of this wretched life!” Cyrus’s voice grows shrill, his eyes wild as he thrashes in his chair, cackling hysterically as the binds cut into his wrists. The sight of his own blood only increases his laughter. “You seek to watch me lose my mind, but I only see freedom in the breaking! Even in that moment when I lose my sanity, you will not find what you desire in my eyes. I will finally be at peace, all thanks to you! So, how does it feel, knowing that you are working to send me to a fate that I already long for?”

Wolf observes his brother with a small frown. “Perhaps my new friend has been successful today after all.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” Cyrus inquires, a heaviness suddenly weighting his limbs. Some of the larger wounds on his chest crack open and ooze, burning when air hits the exposed flesh. “Your obsessive nature is eating you alive. First Fox turns his back on you, and I