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

of the soldiers that wait on their mounts snicker as he struggles. “Pathetic,” they whisper to each other, barking with laughter when Cyrus slips and rolls in the muddy path. He lays there unmoving, staring up into the cloudless sky. Clear and clean, he declares, wishing he could say the same thing about himself. When was the last time I felt those things?

Suddenly, muddy fingers writhe to life around him, clenching his hands and feet, pinning him in place. Falcon’s laughter slices through the air as more and more hands grip his body, dragging him deeper into the mud. “Did you really think you were free?” Hawk’s voice booms in his ear as his father’s arm wraps around his neck.

Cyrus bucks in the mud, fighting helplessly against his attackers. “No! Please!” He wails, struggling to rip his arms out of the hands that hold him, uncaring if their jagged nails bite into his skin. “Let me go!” He howls as one of those muddy hands wraps around his throat, cutting off all hope of fresh air rushing into his lungs.

“Go up to my horse,” Wolf orders, jerking the chain sharply in the direction Cyrus should go. Immediately Cyrus bolts upright, all traces of hands and familiar ghosts fading away. He runs a quaking hand over his face as he coughs, failing in his efforts to calm himself. Wolf slaps the end of the chain across Cyrus’s calves when he does not move. “Go stand beside my horse, Cyrus. Now! And do not touch him. He’s just been cleaned, and does not need to be tainted by your filth.”

It wasn’t real, Cyrus decides, a hysterical laugh erupting from his throat as he hurries to obey his brother’s demands. Cyrus lowers his gaze to stare at the horse’s gleaming hoofs, carefully inspecting the mud for any more monsters. When no other hands appear, he breathes a small sigh of relief while he wonders if this will be his reality forevermore. Will I always be chased by phantoms? Will I ever be free of that Vibría monster?

Cyrus’s respectful obedience does nothing to stop Wolf from doling out a few well-placed punches that leave him gasping. “The men are ready,” Jackal declares, walking his horse up to Wolf’s right side. “They’re broken up into three squadrons run by me, Hyena, and Coyote. They are clear on the plan, and they will make sure their warriors obey your orders on pain of death. Say the word and we travel.”

“Good,” Wolf declares with a dismissive wave. He mounts his horse immediately, looking down his nose at his brother as he explains. “You are to run alongside me. Keep up on your own or get the whip. Or maybe I’ll let my horse trample you and be done with it. That would be a terrible way to die, don’t you think?”

Cyrus needs no further encouragement. Wolf walks his horse at an ambling pace, but the speed still forces his exhausted, broken brother to jog. Unable to speak or protest, Cyrus endures the torture, not even noticing the moments when blisters pop on his heels and bleed. Suryc? Are you here? He questions, searching through his mind for any foreign awareness that might be his Ddraig. Did you abandon me too? The silence in Cyrus’s thoughts engulfs him. All the aches in his muscles and grinding pains in his bones seem amplified by the knowledge that he is truly alone. How can I survive this madness? Suryc?

When the House of Piranhas becomes visible, Cyrus is barely lifting his feet. Wolf drops from his horse, still dragging his brother’s chains along behind him. Cyrus stumbles forward, falling to the ground when his legs finally give way. “Jackal, tie him to the nearest tree. Bind his head to it as well. Force him to face forward. I want him to witness everything that transpires here today.”

“I’ll do it,” Fox offers, slipping off his horse’s back with his field medical kit secured at his hip. Grouse and Bittern are right behind him, cowering on the backs of two other horses that were not needed by the soldiers. Sensing Wolf’s fury, Fox growls out an explanation. “I needed help for the battlefield infirmary, didn’t I? These two have learned quickly, and they are stronger than Bob and Cheetah. Now, let me see to Cyrus, then—”

A steel blade catches Fox under his chin, slowing his progress forward. “So you can leave the bindings loose and let him escape? I think not!” Wolf’s eyes grow wild as he watches his healer’s breathing still, his throat bobbing with unvoiced fear. Wolf slides the edge of the blade carefully up and down Fox’s skin, relishing the powerful feeling coursing through his veins. “I could do it, you know. Then how would your wretched little substitutes from the House of Vultures ever survive without you? I know you’re plotting something. You seek to overthrow my rule! Admit it!”

As Jackal stalks over to bind Cyrus, Fox whispers his challenge in a nervous rasp. “You think I’m trying to take over your pack? Have you truly lost your senses?” Fox throws his hands up over his head, knocking Wolf’s sword away from his neck. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you anymore, Wolf. I keep hoping I’ll understand how you could deteriorate so quickly into this paranoid, fiendish brute that you’ve become.” He storms up to Wolf’s side, uncaring whether or not his leader will slice him to ribbons before he finishes saying his piece. “The Wolf that I knew all these years would never put his people in danger for greed.”

“I’m doing this for Iris!” Wolf snarls, raising his blade once more.

“You’re doing this for yourself!” Fox insists, uncaring what the consequences of his words might be. “You’ve let the idea of becoming king poison your mind. It’s no wonder that I’m siding with another hous—”

“Mind your words, or they may well be your last,” Wolf replies, shoving Fox away harshly. Too close, he whimpers as his