Just as I'm certain he'll crush my ribs if he squeezes any harder, he drops me. I hit the ground, elbows crashing against rough cement. The wind is knocked from my lungs, but I clamber backward and yank the red fabric off my face.
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Not that it helps. Blackness. I'm in the complete dark.
Heavy breathing surrounds me. The scent of rotting garbage, spoiled milk. Fur brushes by my hand, my face, my legs, leaving my skin greasy and oily. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I realize that right in front of me is a sea of ocher eyes.
There are hundreds of wolves. Some are transformed, some are not, but all stare at me hungrily, wantonly. The Alpha Fenris stands right at the edge of my toes, so close I'm afraid I'll retch from the smell, leering down at me with the most lustful grin I have ever seen.
"Hello, sweetheart. I was afraid we wouldn't see you again," he hisses. The other Fenris laugh, one maniacal sound of howls and chuckles. I look around quickly, desperate for a way out that doesn't involve running directly through a pack of wolves. We're in what I think is a subway tunnel--there are rails a few yards from me--but the graffiti on the walls and the scattered blankets make me think it's abandoned.
A Fenris rushes at me from the back of the crowd. I tense, ready to lash out at him, expecting the whole pack to swarm me. How long can I possibly last if they all attack? A minute? Thirty seconds? The wolf leaps into the air, and I see nothing but his massive claws extending toward my face.
He's thrown away, hit hard in the side by the Alpha. The wolf flips in the air and skids across the floor, transforming back to a man and groaning. His side is bleeding, the wound sticky and dark.
"Not yet. Not anyone," the Alpha hisses. He reaches
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down and grabs my arm, yanking me to standing so hard that I think my shoulder pops out of joint. He strides toward a yellow metal door that has something streaked across it. Blood? Human blood? He grabs the doorknob and wrenches the door open.
"No one touches her. No one unlocks the door. Understood? She's no good to us dead, not yet." His words are dark, threatening. The pack murmurs and howls in agreement.
The Alpha whips his arm forward, throwing me into the dark room. I slam against something hard and metallic, then crumple to the floor as my head explodes in pain from the impact. The Alpha steps toward me and flicks his hand--it transforms into a claw. Incredible control. He reaches toward my face, but I can't scream. I can't move, my head hurts, I'm scared. I'm no hunter. He grabs ahold of my hair and hacks at it, his claw slicing through the strands.
Then he storms away, slams the door, and locks it.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SCARLETT
FASTER, FASTER, HAVE TO RUN FASTER. I STUMBLE wildly around corners, legs burning. I barely even know where I'm going. I should have taken the subway, but I didn't think of it in my blind panic. I could already be too late. It's been days, and the Fenris said they didn't have much time left to change him. What if he's losing his soul right now, at this very moment? The Potential was under my nose the entire time, right in front of me! The Potential. Silas. The Potential is my friend.
Or was my friend. He might not be anymore, after the affair with Rosie. I'm not certain what we are now, but something is driving me forward. My chest aches and pleads for me to stop, as if I'm breathing fire instead of oxygen. Finally, familiar roads start coming into view. Sweat runs into my
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eye and blinds me every few steps, and my shirt sticks to my chest. So close--the apartment is just around the corner. God, he doesn't even know. He doesn't even know he could be a monster.
I push through a crowd of ragged men standing on the street corner and run up the stairs, screaming Silas's name with the little power I have left in my lungs. A few doors open, people glare at me, but I ignore them. I don't have the apartment key. Please be there. I round up the last few steps and ram the door with my shoulder. Thankfully, it offers little resistance, crashing off the hinges and slamming into the wall behind it.
"Silas!" I shout into the apartment. No answer. I storm in, panic rising as I pant in a desperate attempt to catch my breath. He's gone, he's been taken. And Rosie? Where is Rosie--
"Lett?" I whirl around and see Silas coming up the landing. He looks at the door, then at me, questioningly. "Are you okay? God, we've been looking for you everywhere--"
"Show me your wrists," I demand. I reach for my hatchet and fear grips my heart.
"Um, why--"
"Just show me!" I scream.
Silas hesitates, then raises both hands. Nothing on his wrists. I nod and pull his face close, staring into his eyes. Gray-blue. Not ocher. I exhale. Relief. He hasn't changed. Yet.
"Lett, you're scaring me," Silas says cautiously. "What's going on?"
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I sigh and step backward over the fallen door. I collapse into one of the kitchen chairs and put my head in my arms on the table. Silas kneels beside me and puts a hand on my back.
"Lett?" he says quietly.
"It's you," I say, lifting my head. I force myself to inhale. "It's you, Silas."
"What's me?" he asks.
"The Potential. It's you--you're the one."
Silas doesn't move, not even a breath, not a blink. I swallow hard and nod at him.
"Impossible," he whispers. "I have five brothers, three sisters. I'm the ninth child."
"No. I talked to your father today." I shake my head, remembering Pa Reynolds's sad state. "He thought I was your mother, and he said things. He said... your uncle Jacob. He's not your uncle. He's your father's first son. He and Celia had him out of wedlock, so they gave the baby to your grandparents to raise. You're the tenth child and the seventh brother."
"Then I... no, Lett. You're wrong." His voice is quivering, his face the pale green of magnolia flowers.
"Silas, listen to me," I say softly. "It's you. You were twenty-one last month. You're the seventh son of a seventh son. You're the Potential." I take his hand because I'm not sure what else to do. What can I say to comfort him?
When he speaks, his voice is distant, like he's not really talking to me. "They didn't tell me. Why didn't they tell me?"
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"I think they were afraid they'd upset you. So they tried to take you away on the seven-year marks--"
"The beach. And then... oh god," he says, raising his eyes to mine. I see him looking at the scars, his gaze running over each one as though on a track. "Lett, that means it was me--I was the reason they came to Ellison. I'm the reason you..."
"Yes," I whisper. "You were supposed to leave town the day the wolf came. If your father kept you moving, the Fenris couldn't sense you and track you down. They didn't even know what you looked like because they had never seen you. Until now--at the bowling alley. The Fenris saw you, knew who you were, and they got away alive."
Silas reaches for my other hand, and suddenly he's pleading, a scared little boy. "Lett, what do I do?" he asks. "If I... if I bring them to me, I bring them to everyone I love, to Rosie, to you..." He pauses and seems to realize with relief that the rest of his family isn't in danger--not when they're not speaking to him.
I slide out of the chair to join him on the floor. How easy it had seemed to want to use the Potential as bait before I knew it was Silas. It had seemed simple to draw them to us, kill them... I have to admit, there's a part of me that still thinks that way. Part of me wonders just how thin a line Silas could tread luring the Fenris before he would be too much at risk. He's never been the bait before, not like Rosie and I have...
I sigh. Flipping your hair is not the same as risking your soul. "We can figure this out, Silas. Where is my sister?"
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"I... oh god, if I turn, I'll want her. I'll want to..." He drops his head into my lap and breathes as if he's afraid he might hyperventilate. I touch his hair the way I would if he were Rosie, the way she says comforts her.
"Silas, where is she?" I ask again,
pulling his head up.
Silas exhales and seems to regain some of his sanity. "Probably out looking for you. Maybe at Kroger?"
I want to scream at him for a glittering moment--how could he not know where she is? Doesn't he know she needs to be protected? But I shake off the need to yell.
"Let's go, then," he says. "We need to get her, lock ourselves up here, think of a plan--"
"You can't go anywhere, Silas," I interrupt him firmly. "One bite--that's all it takes."
"No," Silas says, shaking his head and springing to his feet. "No, I have to go. I can't just leave her--"
"If we can just wait this out, you won't be of any use to them--the moon phase is over tomorrow. Maybe we can even draw them out of the city--you know, lure them away from here and then just drive until your time as a Potential is up--"
"I love her!" he shouts, slamming his hands against the kitchen table. "You know I love her, Lett. You know I can't just stay here."
I don't know that. I don't know what it's like to be in love. But I can't possibly deny the fire in Silas's eyes, the firm set of his jaw, the knowledge that I'll never be able to keep him from going to her.
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"All right," I say, nodding slowly. "Then grab a weapon." Silas nods and grabs his hunting knives and ax off the kitchen counter, strapping the latter to his back. We prop the door back up and take off. I constantly scan the city around us as we run toward Kroger. Just one bite. That's all it takes. A Fenris could dart out, nip Silas, steal his soul away. I shiver.
"She's not here," Silas says as we arrive at the grocery store. We dart down the aisles but see nothing save a few bored-looking shoppers.
"Where else could she be?" I ask, frustrated, as we hurry through the automatic doors, back to the street.
"I'm not sure," Silas mutters. He tugs at his hair worriedly. A passerby in a suit brushes against Silas. We both lurch back, and I nearly draw my hatchet on the businessman. No, it was nothing, just a guy. Silas and I make nervous eye contact.
"Think, Silas. Would she have gone back to that place where she took the classes?" I ask. I realize with a pang that Silas knows more about Rosie's habits than I do. Silas shakes his head. "The library? Maybe we should just go back to the apartment and wait..."
"No. I can't just go sit, I can't... We have to find her." Silas begins to pace, his face glistening in the midday sun from beads of sweat.
"Let's walk, then," I say. "The park. Maybe she tried to go hunting."
"Right. Maybe so," Silas says with fake confidence.
We walk down the main trail that winds through Piedmont Park in silence. Nothing, no sign of her, and with every
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passing moment my sanity's waning. She's fine. I'm over-reacting. She's fine. We round the path to the flower-lined fountain in the park's center.
"Is that..." Silas's voice trails off. He points, eyes wide and jaw clenched. Grocery bags, strewn on the path. The yolks of eggs run down the path's hill; a gallon of milk sits spoiling in the sunlight. We run toward it.
"Scarlett..." Silas starts, his voice uneven. He lowers himself to the ground and runs a hand over the spilled bags, as though he's afraid to disturb them too much.
"No," I say sharply. "No... I was supposed to protect her..." My eye darts around the area, desperate for some sign that my sister is fine. She'll come running up the trail any moment now.
"Lett," Silas says softly. His voice is full of defeat. He walks toward the fountain and lifts something off the ledge that surrounds it. Silas clutches the object in his hand and walks back to me slowly. When he opens his palm, my heart falls, careens to some spot deep in my stomach.
It's a lock of my sister's hair, tied up with a scrap of a red cloak. There's an elegantly written note tucked into the fabric. Silas edges it out. It reads: 11 p.m. tomorrow, Sutton Station. You for her.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rosie
Bait.
I'm the bait. I've always been the bait, of course, but now it's entirely different. They need me, but for what I'm not certain. To lure Scarlett, maybe, as revenge for her hunting them? Either way, they plan to kill me. The Alpha's words resonate in my mind: "not yet." They can't kill me. Yet.
I rub my head and look around my prison. It's a mechanical room of some sort, I think, but it's nearly impossible to tell anything in the darkness except that an enormous machine lurks in front of me. Tiny lines of light peek through from around the edges of the door, but they're not really enough to see by.
I can still hear the Fenris outside, breathing, growling, fighting with one another, shouting. I don't move for the
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first hour, afraid that if I do, they'll come for me despite the Alpha's orders. But eventually my muscles begin to scream, and I crawl around the machine, groping at it with my hands, trying to figure out what it is.
I'm almost certain that I'm smashing rat droppings between my fingers as I inch around the floor, but I try to put that out of my mind. The machine is huge, welded to the ground and made of cold, heavy metal--steel, I think, from the way a few bits of it reflect the door's light. There's a little door on the side, like a fuse box. I'm afraid to open it for fear of drawing attention, because I'm not sure what it would take to decide that dead bait is just as good as live bait. I think the machine is a generator of some sort, but I'm not sure. The smell of gasoline and grease hangs in the air, heavy.
One wall is covered with mostly empty shelves--the only things left on them are a few cans of chewing tobacco, a couple bottles of cleaner, some old rags, a few random nails, bits of rubber hose, three paintbrushes, and a lighter. I flick it on to see a mop propped against the shelves as well, along with a janitor's cleaning bucket. I release the lighter switch--there's not much lighter fluid left in the thing, and I should probably save it.
The walls of the room have no windows, no grates, and no air ducts. No way out except the door that leads to the most powerful Fenris pack I've ever seen.
I sigh and sit back against a concrete wall. My forehead is covered in sticky, drying blood. I pull the cloak off my shoulders and wrap it around me like a blanket. I'm probably bait
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for my sister, but what they don't realize is, I'm not certain she'll even come for me.
I clamber back to my knees and circle the room again, memorizing each turn, each sharp edge, each shelf. I have to save myself. Or plan to die.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SCARLETT
SILAS PUNCHES THE WALL. HIS HAND COMES AWAY bloody, but he doesn't seem to feel it.
"They should have told me," he growls for the millionth time. "They should have told me before disappearing--"
"I don't think your siblings knew," I interject.
"Then my father! My father should have told me when he realized he was forgetting!" Silas yells. He grabs the alarm clock and throws it through the window; the glass shatters, raining onto the sidewalk below. I drop my head into my hands, helpless to calm him but hopefully not helpless to save my sister. This entire place feels like Rosie, as though she's in the room with us but can't speak and we can't reach her. Tomorrow. I think of all the things that could happen to her
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in one day. I twist a loose thread from the couch around my fingers until they tingle.
"Your father didn't want to hurt you. Sometimes you just want to protect the people you love," I say quietly, meeting his eyes, which are full of agony. I stand, starting to pace.
"Think," I say, mind racing. "Together you and I can take at least eight of them at once." It's a high number, but I'm counting on our shared adrenaline giving us much-needed strength.
"The Arrow pack has grown, though. There could be hundreds. I can't take hundreds," Silas says bitterly. "And I can't be bitten, not even a light wound, or I'm useless to you, to Rosie. I don't understand, Scarlett--how did they even know that Rosie and I..." His words drift off.
I sigh
. "Remember what the Alpha said at the bowling alley? Something about them having what they need? That must have been the knowledge of who you are, how they could use Rosie."
"And they didn't try to change me then because... there were fewer of them? You could have protected me. We would have won. But now that the Alpha's fought us, he knows our strengths. He'll be more than prepared for us in terms of numbers. Especially since the moon phase is almost over--he won't want to risk anything." He raises his eyebrows hopefully. "What if we bring guns?"
"Not enough damage to kill them, most likely. And
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besides, we couldn't get enough guns quickly enough." I shake my head.
"Okay, we have till tomorrow night. What else could we... Why a day, anyway? Why is tomorrow night special?" Silas mutters.
I shake my head and flip one of Rosie's knives in my hand, then send it spiraling to the door. It sinks in with a sharp crack but isn't on the mark I was aiming for--Rosie's aim is better than mine. If she'd only had these with her... "It's the end of the moon phase. At eleven forty-one, it's over. I'd bet anything they're calling in every pack member they sent out to the country, pulling out all the stops to make sure you don't get away. We could try going in early."
"But they could kill her if we try that," Silas says, defeated. He yanks at his hair until his temples turn bright red. "Scarlett... we have to do it."
"What?"
"Trade me for her."
I fold my arms. "You're saying you'll trade your soul for my sister?"
Silas breathes heavily, beads of sweat on his forehead. "Yes. Do it. Let's go, now." He moves for the door.
"Wait, wait," I say, stepping in front of him. I put my hands on his chest and force him into one of the dining table chairs. Him for her. Silas and Rosie are integral to everything that's important to me. I am an extra. I should be the one
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