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

suspect Iris will too before it’s over. She will recognize your smothering personality long before you ever get the chance to quench her soul. She’ll wise up and leave you, and then what will you do?”

“Iris will fall down on her knees before me, grateful for everything I’ve done in vengeance,” Wolf bellows as he raises the knife, slamming it hard into the table and rattling the plates. “When she finally comes back to me, she will rejoice in knowing that your last days were full of torture, madness, and tears.”

“Your conviction in your words just proves how little you truly know her,” Cyrus whispers coldly, his eyes beginning to droop. The shock and fatigue of his injuries drains his energy rapidly. “She will come to loathe you,” Cyrus whimpers as exhaustion begins to shut down his mind, forcing him to rest.

“And she’ll always hate you,” Wolf fires back, but a tremor of doubt looms over his words like a dark shadow. Rising abruptly from his chair, he dashes away from the ruined house, considering the veracity of his brother’s claims.

Cyrus, Suryc begs through their mental connection, please don’t give up on this life. It would break my heart to have found my Cadogan only to lose you so soon.

“You and Iris are the only good things in my life,” Cyrus mutters as his chin drops against his chest. “I make no promises, Suryc, but I will try.”

Chapter 9

Cyrus jerks awake in the wee hours of darkness, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Who’s there?” His teeth chatter as his eyes dart around the room, and while he cannot see anyone yet, he is certain that he is not alone. “I can feel you here. Who are you?”

Falcon’s grey, blood-flecked mask looms in the shadows. Her long whip snakes along the ground, twitching impatiently like a cat’s tail does when the creature wants food. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment,” she admits, her furious voice grating to his ears.

Cyrus pales at the sight, straining against his binds and searching for a means of defense. “You’re dead. I was strung up by your rotten corpse only yesterday.” It’s a dream…it’s that thing. No matter how many times Cyrus repeats this mantra, another voice overpowers him. It doesn’t matter what it is—it can still hurt me!

“Sign over my place in the traitor binds said I would return, didn’t it? Well, here I am!” Falcon cackles, her whip cracking in the air as she steps closer. “Who said I was alive now?” A beam of moonlight gleams through the window on Cyrus’s left. Falcon slinks over to it, standing tall and proud in its ethereal light. “I’ve come to collect a debt from you, old friend.”

“I owe you nothing,” Cyrus shivers, his voice wavering. Suryc! She’s going to kill me! Help!

“Liar!” Falcon roars, her whip biting through Cyrus’s already fragile skin. “You played me for a fool! You used my gifts, abused my love, and in the end, you rejected me. I was good to you, wasn’t I? Say it!”

“You were the best,” Cyrus screams in terror as he beholds her broken body. Falcon lifts her crooked fingers to remove her mask, revealing her tortured face. Her eyes are gone, plucked out by the carrion birds. Her lips are tight and etched with tiny lines that surround her gaping mouth. Blue gums hold her few remaining shaky teeth in place. Falcon’s major organs are visible, dangling from the wound at her belly, swaying as she skulks closer to her former leader’s side.

“Please, no!” Cyrus whimpers, cringing as he watches Falcon’s arm raise high over her head, preparing to swing her whip. Bits of loose skin slip away from gleaming white bone. Her dead joints grind and pop with every movement she makes.

“Not so brave now, are you?” Falcon asks as her whip bites into Cyrus’s face, crisscrossing the scar already running down his cheek. “But then, you were never tough, were you? I handled all your dirty deeds while you sat moon-eyed over a woman who barely tolerated your existence.”

“Falcon, I’m sorry,” Cyrus pleads, his wrists bleeding steadily while he tries in vain to rip his arms free of the straps that tether him to the chair.

Falcon sneers, flicking her whip across Cyrus’s chest. “You use my masked title. Did you even know my true name? Did you ever take a single second out of your day to find out anything real about me?”

Cyrus bows his head dejectedly, his voice grim as he whispers, “I needed you to—”

“I loved you. All that time that you were pining for Mynah, and I was waiting for you! When you told me that you didn’t love me, I was devastated.” Falcon leans close to Cyrus’s face, reaching up to brush his sweat-soaked skin.

“No, Falcon! Get away from me!” Cyrus rocks against his chair, praying he can somehow elude the wraith’s clutches. A living nightmare—one that can kill or maim me at will. I cannot escape this monster, Suryc!

It’s not real, Cyrus! Suryc howls in empathy even as a tremor of revulsion prickles his scales. You’ve got to fight—

That telltale, isolating barrier rises up between Cyrus and his Ddraig, cutting Suryc’s words short.

“You broke my heart. Now it’s my turn to take yours right out of your chest!” Falcon laughs as she rains blows from her whip, each one striking a little harder. She reaches forward, her fingers grasping at his chest, digging into his open wounds. She picks at the skin, stretching each cut wider, as if she is searching for the best place to reach inside and make good on her threat.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Cyrus screams as white-hot agony rips through his wounds as though she is flaying him alive. “I never wanted to hurt you!”

Falcon stops suddenly, her shape morphing as her lips become full and supple. Her hair lengthens and returns to Iris’s luminous white strands. In the moonlight, it practically glows. Cyrus breathes a sigh of