War: Feral Hearts Book One

by Knight, Gwen

  “Enough!” she shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, her blistering glare still aimed at him. When one of his wolves growled, Emma spun around, her searing fury enough even to silence War. The other wolf backed away, his tail tucked between his legs.

  General Taylor stole a step toward her, but before War could react, Emma whirled around, lifted her rifle, and jabbed the barrel into the general’s chest.

  Now that got everyone’s attention.

  “I would advise you to back off,” Emma growled in a voice worthy of an alpha. “I’m in a foul mood thanks to my mate over there—”

  “Your mate?” Taylor sputtered.

  “—and I would hate to take it out on you, you know?” She cocked the rifle for added measure.

  Taylor slowly raised his hands, his stunned expression darting between the two of them. Silent questions burned in his gaze. War was likely the first wolf he’d ever seen turn back into a human. To say it shocked the soldiers was an understatement.

  “Emma—”

  “Not now, War,” she snapped. He could tell from the pinch of her lips she had a whole lot more to say to him just brewing under the surface, but she knew better than to berate him in front of his pack. Regardless of everything else, he appreciated that. In private, she could rip him a new one all she wanted, but not out here. Not when every last set of ears tuned in to them.

  “It’s time you all listened up,” Emma called out, her voice ringing through the trees. “As you can see by my darling mate over there, there is a loophole to this curse. A few days ago, we stumbled across it when I came to warn War about the impending attack.”

  “You did what?” Taylor shouted.

  Emma’s gaze narrowed on him, and she stared until he fell silent. Were the situation not slightly terrifying, War might have laughed. He and General Taylor were the alphas here, but Emma possessed enough inner strength that it attuned every single soldier and wolf to her. Including the general.

  “As I was saying.” She glared at the general, the rifle still pointed at his chest. “There’s a loophole to this curse. Which means there’s a chance for peace. A chance to put aside the hate and fear and accomplish something no other fort has. General Taylor,” her voice softened, hope alight in her eyes—“you want your life back, right? Your land? Your city?”

  He grunted.

  “As you can see, War is very much human again. You two could arrange for peace. Put aside the fighting and establish new boundaries. The pack, while still trapped in wolf form, aren’t feral anymore. All because of me and War.”

  “Your…mate,” Taylor repeated, his brows drawn low.

  “We were mates before the curse, and we will always be mates. No matter how much he pisses me off,” she grunted, the last comment directed at him.

  War’s mouth twitched. Even in all her fury, she was breathtaking. In a million years, he never would have imagined his mate to be so strong, so stubborn, so resilient. But from her expression, he knew better than to hint at his feelings right now in case she did something else dangerously foolish.

  “I’m not exactly sure what you’re trying to suggest here,” Taylor said, scratching at his head. A series of deep gashes crossed his arms from War’s claws.

  “She’s saying that since I can turn into a human again, that my pack and I no longer need to act like animals.” Glancing at Emma once more, War stepped forward, unabashedly naked, and stuck out his hand. “And she’s right. Maybe I should have done this before the battle, but anger makes a man act rashly.”

  Taylor’s brow shot upward at the word “man.”

  “I propose a truce,” War forced through gritted teeth. If this worked and made his mate happy, then so be it. It wasn’t his desired outcome, but neither was the loss of his pack. And far too many bodies littered the ground. Far too many voices had gone silent in his head. Voices they would forever mourn.

  Taylor stepped closer but didn’t extend his hand. “And just what would this truce propose?”

  “I guess we can work on those details. We could grant permission for your people and trucks to pass through the forest, allow your supply trucks to continue unhampered in exchange for a cut of the goods.”

  “What about the land?”

  “That remains ours,” War snapped. “You have your fort, and I know we won’t be welcome there. You may come and go with our specific permission, but you may not take our land as your own.”

  From the darkening of Taylor’s eyes, War could see he didn’t like that. This man’s ambitions knew no bounds. He wanted their land, their freedom, all of it.

  But just as quickly, the storm cleared, and Taylor gave the slightest nod. He extended his palm in a show of truce. As their fingers touched, the darkness returned to Taylor’s eyes. He barely turned, but it was enough. Enough for him to sneak in behind War.

  Before War could so much as suck in a breath, he felt a blade slip deep into his back, felt the edge twist as it shredded his insides, felt a sudden fire rip across his torso. Emma’s scream resounded in his ears, a sound he knew he’d never forget. He turned, claws extended, and swiped at Taylor’s throat, missing it by a hairsbreadth. Distantly, he heard Emma cry out, but his vision had already begun to haze as he crashed to his knees in the undergrowth. He reached for the knife lodged in his back but couldn’t grasp it.

  The general had planned this well. But it wasn’t until War caught the scent of sizzling skin that he realized something devastating.

  Taylor had used a silver knife.

  Choking on a strained breath, War forced open his eyes in time to watch Taylor and his men drag Emma away. Chaos erupted among his wolves, their cries deafening in his head as they simultaneously fought the remaining soldiers and circled around War to protect him.

  How he wished he could help.

  But if he was taking the time to wish for things, he could think of a few others.

  Like having never met that damn witch in the first place.

  Or killing Taylor instead of trying to extend an olive branch.

  And, most importantly, a full and rich life with Emma.

  Instead, War toppled forward, his face smashing into the underbrush. With a shuddering breath, he sent out his last coherent thought to his pack.

  “Save Emma.”

  13

  Everything slowed as Emma watched War crash to his knees. She’d only seen Taylor shake War’s hand to acknowledge the truce, but then, he’d moved so fast, so imperceptibly that he harmed War before her mate could even react.

  She didn’t know what Taylor had done until War fell forward with a knife protruding from his back. She lunged for War so she could pull it out when strong arms grabbed her from behind and hauled her backward. She screamed for War, kicking and struggling against whoever held her.

  A gloved hand clamped over her mouth as she was bodily dragged away from her mate. She bit down as hard as she could. The hand jerked away from her mouth as the man holding her cursed loudly.

  His arm curled around her neck and squeezed, cutting off her oxygen. She clawed at the arm, but the material of the camouflage jacket was too thick for her to do any good with her blunt nails. Her vision blurred as he carried her away from War, her body rebelling against the lack of oxygen.

  She could see the wolves as they split forces, several circling War to protect their injured alpha, and the rest attacking the soldiers.

  “Retreat!” General Taylor shouted.

  The soldiers followed orders, abandoning the battle with the wolves and racing toward the fort.

  The arm around her neck loosened, and he tossed her over the shoulder of another soldier. Her stomach heaved as her abdomen slammed down on the bony shoulder and her head swam at the abrupt change of view. The soldier took off toward the vehicles and she bounced uncomfortably. She tried to unseat herself from his shoulder, but he held her tightly by the legs, and no amount of beating her fists on his back would make him loosen his grip. Lifting her head, she watched as the wolves gave ch
ase to the retreating soldiers who fired their weapons into the pack.

  She inhaled deeply and pushed up from the man’s shoulder to give herself some leverage. She shouted at the top of her lungs, “War!”

  One soldier racing with them swung his rifle at her, and she let out a grunt as the butt of the gun connected with her temple. Her vision swam and her head spun, and she struggled to hold on to her consciousness.

  As her vision narrowed to pinpricks and the aching in her head intensified, the last image she had was of War still and quiet in the undergrowth, a blade protruding from his back.

  * * *

  Luna woke with a start. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. Picking up her watch, she tilted it until she could read the time—one a.m. She stretched out the kink in her back that sleeping on the worn-out love seat she’d dragged into her mom’s bedroom had given her.

  What the hell woke me up?

  Luna looked at her mom, who was asleep in her bed, her feverish skin glistening in the moonlight. She’d come down with a fever the day before, and Luna had been at her bedside ever since. She briefly wondered if she’d awakened because of her mom, but it didn’t look like she had moved since Luna fell asleep a few hours earlier.

  Luna was one hundred percent exhausted. It wasn’t just worrying over her mom’s illness, but also the gnawing concern over Emma. What kind of person just went traipsing off into the woods to talk to wolf shifters who’d been killing humans on sight?

  The sort of person who Emma was—someone who stood up for those who were wronged and did her best in all things. She might be petite, but she had a warrior spirit. And considering that Emma’s boyfriend—scratch that, mate—was one of the feral wolves, Emma would traipse into hell to save him. The fort they called home was filled with militia just itching to kill wolves at the slightest provocation, and Emma didn’t want to be safe in the fort while War was in danger.

  Luna had never loved any man the way Emma loved War.

  Someday, she hoped she would. She couldn’t picture herself spending the rest of her life with any of the single guys in the fort, though.

  Shaking her thoughts back to figuring out what woke her, Luna stood and checked on her mother. She still felt warm, unfortunately. She heard a distant pow-pow-pow, and her heart clenched.

  She moved past the bed to the window, opening the curtains and peering out into the darkness. The residents had been told to expect gunfire tonight due to militia training drills, but Luna knew that was a lie. Emma had told her the general and his men planned to attack the wolves tonight. The gunfire sounded chaotic and rapid. Almost like they were in a war zone. What if Emma was out there right now, caught up in the insanity?

  Luna glanced at her mom, who stirred but didn’t wake.

  Tiptoeing from the room, Luna closed the bedroom door silently and then dressed quickly in her own room. Donning dark clothes and shoes, she weaved her hair into a quick braid and snuck out the back door. She leaned against the cool surface momentarily and listened to the sounds of the night. The gunfire was louder now, but far enough away she felt safe. She could also hear howling and barking, and she shivered. Emma had to be out there.

  The thought of Emma filled her with sadness. When they’d said goodbye, she’d hoped Emma would be okay, but had no way of knowing what became of her. It wasn’t the first time she’d missed cell phones.

  Or hell, the old house phone at her grandmother’s, with the twisty curly-cue cord that stretched from one side of the kitchen to the other.

  Anything was better than just not knowing.

  Pushing away her heartache, she moved along the backs of the houses on their street, keeping one ear on the fighting from beyond the fort, and the other to the street to listen for the patrols. It was dangerous to be out here, but if she was ever going to learn anything about Emma, this was likely her only chance. She could feel in her bones she needed to be out of her house, and while she wasn’t certain the reason, the feeling was very real. Something big was happening—or about to happen—and it was related to the wolves and possibly her best friend. She’d never find the truth about anything if she left it up to the militia to tell her, so she had to find out what she could on her own.

  She made her way to the market, which was closed because it was so late. She heard rushed footsteps and voices, so she crouched down next to the market wall and quieted her breathing.

  Soldiers hurried by. Lifting her head slowly, she counted six. “We’ve gotta get the gates open,” one man said. “They’re on the way back.”

  “What about the stockade?” a soldier said.

  “I’ll go,” another soldier said. Luna recognized the voice of the third man—Paul. She’d had a brief fling with him a few months ago. While it hadn’t morphed into anything more than the occasional booty-call, she found him to be useful for gathering intel the militia deemed too dangerous for civilian ears.

  Luna waited until she was alone before she headed toward the main gate, found a good hiding spot, and hunkered down to watch the proceedings.

  Minutes later, the gates opened, and men barreled inside. There was a flurry of activity as the gates were closed, with soldiers rushing around and orders being shouted. General Taylor motioned to a soldier who carried someone over his shoulder.

  Luna peered at the figure who appeared to be unconscious.

  Taylor stopped and pointed down the road. “Put her in one of the holding cells and wait for me. I’m going to brief the council on the success of the mission.”

  The soldier saluted and then hurried off, the figure bouncing on his shoulder. Luna barely stifled a gasp as she realized who it was.

  Emma!

  * * *

  Emma groaned as pain shot through her body like electricity. Her throat ached—hell, everything ached. It felt like she’d been cut apart and put back together by a sadistic doctor.

  She rolled to her back and rubbed her bleary eyes, her mind blanking as she stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. It wasn’t the ceiling of the home she’d shared with Luna and her mother. Or the ceiling of the master bedroom at the homestead. It took only a few moments for the fog in her mind to clear and realization to set in. She knew exactly where she was: the fort’s prison.

  There were four cells in the stockade, with little more than a twin cot and a bucket for a toilet in the corner of each one. By the time she, Luna, and her mother had made it to the fort after Zara had cast the curse, they’d built the stockade already and she’d seen inside it only once during a tour. The tiny eight-by-ten cell was no place she’d ever wanted to be, but here she was.

  She stared up at the ceiling and cataloged her body for injuries. Her stomach ached, and she had a wicked headache. But aside from being super thirsty, she didn’t think any of her injuries were too serious. Sitting up slowly, she groaned again as her headache intensified. She waited for the dizziness to pass and then swung her legs to the side. Her feet touched the floor, but she didn’t get off the cot. There wasn’t any place to go.

  “You’re awake,” a man said.

  A sharp glance revealed General Taylor, leaning ever so casually against the prison bars, an aggravating smirk curving his thin lips.

  The memory of him stabbing War had her desperate to lunge at the bars and throttle him. But she wasn’t an idiot. The action wouldn’t accomplish anything, not with her locked up. Instead, she unleashed a nasty glare.

  “You lied,” she said, pushing away the worry that surfaced as she thought about War.

  “He’s an animal. All of them are.”

  “You know that’s not true. They’re shifters—humans with the power to change into animals. The curse that took the sun away also trapped the wolves in a feral state. You witnessed War become human again when I showed up at the battle. You talked to him. You shook his hand. Being reunited with me gave War back his humanity, and because he’s their alpha, the wolves regained some of their human thoughts back too. They’re different and you know it.”


  He tilted his head. “Curse?”

  Emma froze, eyes wide as she stared at the general. Shit. Had she said too much? For a year, the humans had speculated that magic was the cause of everything, but they’d never been able to confirm their suspicions.

  “What curse?” Taylor demanded, gripping the cell bars.

  “A witch named Zara cast the curse,” Emma admitted. What did it matter if he knew? The damage was already done, and it wouldn’t change anything for the humans to finally understand. But she refused to name War in any of this, knowing it would only fan the fires of Taylor’s hatred. “Thanks to her, this is our world now. But we can break it. As I just said, when War and I reunited, he regained his humanity. And because he’s the alpha, his wolves regained their ability to reason. They’re stuck in wolf form, but they aren’t feral anymore.” A smug smile curled her lips. “And you stabbed their alpha. Bet they’re really pissed now. Let me go, and maybe I can convince them to forgive you.”

  Taylor rubbed his brow and released a long sigh. “You’re not going anywhere. You broke several laws. You left the fort and aided the enemy, for crying out loud.”

  Her mouth fell open, and she rose to her feet. Squaring her shoulders, she faced the general. “I tried to stop the bloodshed. In case you missed it, there were soldiers among the dead as well as wolves. There was no need for that. War offered a truce, and you betrayed him. You smiled and drove a knife into his back. That’s what a coward does, not a leader.”

  “The wolves were losing. He offered a truce to save his losses. That’s cowardly.”

  “You called the retreat,” she retorted.

  “Well, of course,” he said, smiling at her coldly. “I had to get a pathetic civilian back to the safety of the fort.”

  She wanted to scream. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of watching her lose it. She was fairly certain that no one knew she was in the stockade. Taylor could do anything to her he wanted, and no one would stop him.