Wolf Pack Chronicles Box Set

by Amelia Wilson

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said as he followed Tristan towards the meeting room.

  Shifter faction meetings were often held at the round table in the Rogue's warehouse, in a special room reserved for such things. Since Ryland's pack was the largest, it occupied the top of Central City and served as the ‘head' of the five packs. The other four occupied each corner of the city, all of them bound by a peace treaty, set up by Ryland and his former beta a few years ago.

  Ryland sat with Tristan at his side, and with three of his best pack members behind him: Geoff, a foot soldier; Kalyn, a strategist and Tory, a scout.

  "I will call the roll," Tristan said above the noise of the meeting room. One pack of shifters was rowdy enough. Having all five together in the same room was asking for trouble. "Please make note if you are here. Furies."

  "Present," said Sam, a broad-shouldered woman, and alpha of the all-female pack, The Furies. Her amazon-esque posse stood proudly behind her, ready to settle any disputes.

  “Nightcallers,” continued Tristan.

  "Here," raised the hand of Rizz, a spiky-haired punk whose pack occupied the top right corner of the city. His pack members were all clad in leather and metal studs, eyeing the Furies with suspicion.

  “We don’t have time for formalities…” Ryland grumbled as he stood up.

  “This is the standard procedure,” Tristan corrected him. “You know, like in every meeting?”

  "We clearly know why we're all here," Ryland said. "Ben of the South Stars is here, and so are the Stalkers. Now, with that out of the way, we can get to more serious matters."

  Tristan’s eyes fluttered as he took a seat and opened up his notebook. "I feel so left out, Ry," A grating voice called out from across the table. Ryland clenched his fist at the very sound. "Didn't feel like introducing l'il old me?" Declan Burr, a redhead with an unkempt goatee, kicked his boots on the table and leaned back in his seat. Declan was Ryland's rival and alpha of the Stalkers. He was also incredibly annoying.

  “You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s just lost a pack member,” Ryland said through his teeth. Declan, for once, decided to keep his mouth shut.

  “Onto the first matter of business,” Tristan said. “The Furies have reported some strange activity recently?”

  “We’ve been seeing this symbol spray painted everywhere,” Sam said, sliding a piece of paper across the table. Each pack leaned in to get a better look. It was a star, split in half with an arrow. Ryland recognized it as the same one that had been crudely etched in the warehouse. “Any scents attached to them?” He asked.

  “Ben and I have discussed this,” Rizz said as he adjusted his nose ring. “Someone’s definitely leaving scent markings around, but it’s not from any of you guys.”

  “What’s stranger is that there isn’t a pattern to them,” said Ben, a brooding man with long hair. “Our scouts have been recording the marking sites. They’re too sporadic to determine anything.”

  Ryland pondered. A new pack in Central City? There hadn’t been one since the peace treaty was arranged.

  “Has anyone managed to find any information on Henna?” He asked the room. Everyone fell silent, curious eyes darting from one side of the table to the other.

  “Nigel is missing as well,” Ben said quietly.

  “So is my beta…” Sam said with a hint of sadness.

  Ryland tried to feel out the room. He didn't want to assume any of these alphas was behind this. Even though peace existed between them, Ryland still had doubts about where everyone's loyalty stood. Anyone could be recruiting shifters outside of the city to do their bidding, and this thought made Ryland suspicious of almost everyone in the room.

  "You mentioned Declan lost a pack member," Rizz said. Declan shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact with anyone. If anyone was behind this it would be him. He was a conniving man after all, and before he had become the alpha he had been a lone wolf with his own rules, and a cunning negotiator between all of the packs.

  “The Rogues found the body. According to Ryland, he had been stabbed with a crystal dagger,” Tristan said regarding his notes. “The killer took his own life with it, and apparently there was a strange shad—”

  "A circle was drawn around the area," Ryland interrupted. If he couldn't tell his pack about the possibility of a curse, he certainly couldn't tell the rest of the shifter factions.

  “You seem a little antsy, Ryland,” Declan jeered. “Something you don’t want to tell us?”

  Ryland felt his anger simmering. “Shifters are missing, Declan. Someone is sacrificing them and we need to know who it is and why they’re doing this. We’re going to need each alpha to spread out their packs and gather as much information as we can.”

  “Shouldn’t we all be working out a plan?” Declan countered. “I know you like to think you’re the one and only leader of Central City, but with you making all the decisions for us, it really makes me wonder…are you trying to cover your tracks?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Tristan sighed adjusting his glasses. The other alphas leaned away from the table, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

  “You’re quick to make accusations,” Ryland said. “Perhaps you’re making them before anyone else, so that they won’t suspect you.”

  “Why would I kidnap my own shifter?”

  “Well, why would I do the same?”

  “Because I think you’ve turned into a power hungry bastard ever since your brother left the pack.”

  Ryland's temper was on a rolling boil now, about to spill out everywhere. Before he knew it, he was flying across the table, shifting into a dark-red wolf that lunged, jaws first, at Declan. The other alphas and their packs stepped away from the table, watching as Declan revealed his inner wolf. Ryland sunk his teeth right into his neck. Nobody would ever talk about his brother again. Not after they saw what he'd do to Declan.

  It was chaos as Tristan tried to break up the pairs of gnashing teeth and threatening growls. Declan’s hackles raised, his lip quivering as his jaws lashed out again and again at his rival. Ryland knocked him across the room, sending him crashing hard against the concrete wall with a weak yelp. Declan reverted back, his forehead bleeding along with his lip.

  Ryland stood above him, placing his foot right on Declan’s chest. “Your silver tongue won’t help you here,” he growled, sweat dripping from his brow. “I’ll kick your ass a thousand more times if it’ll help you learn your place.”

  Declan wiped his split lip, and grimaced at Ryland. "I think it's safe to end this meeting," Sam said, standing up with the other alphas. "Since our unofficial leader has decided to make a scene instead of leading the negotiations."

  Ryland could hardly look at them as they filed out of the room. He didn’t know what came over him, and even though it was satisfying to beat Declan, he worried that it cast him in a different light. “Who needs them anyway?” He thought. “I know what I have to do, not them. I’m going to have to figure this one out on my own.”

  “Or together…” Another voice seemed to say. It was faint, and not threatening like the other voice he had heard before. In fact, it almost sounded like the fortune teller he had met. Ryland shook it off. He really hadn't been resting as well as he should have been.

  That night, Ryland stepped into the training room. The rest of his pack had probably already heard about the meeting and his outburst by now. As soon as his sneaker touched the mat, he noticed that everyone was more rigid and they all eyed him carefully. Not with their usual respect…this time they seemed different. Ryland took to a punching bag and told it about his day. One by one, the pack members began to leave, and he soon realized what that look in their eyes was.

  Fear.

  Ryland slammed his fists into the bag.

  “Sir,” Tristan called to him from the edge of the mat. His nicely-shined shoes didn’t belong on it. Ryland stopped the bag, resting his forehead on it. “There’s nothing to talk about. Declan ran his mouth a
nd I did something about it.”

  “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. But, you do have to keep in mind your responsibilities as alpha. You set an example, not for yourself but for the rest of the pack. I know you hate lecturing, but something has to be done or your behavior will drive the other packs towards breaking the treaty.”

  Ryland nodded. There was only one other person who had spoken to him this way, and it hadn’t ended well for him. As Tristan left, Ryland clutched at his wounded arm, his veins contracting inside of him. This poisonous curse was making him this way and, if he wanted to remain the strongest alpha, he’d have to put a stop to it, fast.

  But first, he needed to go for a walk.

  5. PARTNERS

  Krista awoke to the sound of rustling in the office downstairs. Sometimes the dryer would make more noise than usual. She just had to turn it off and restart it. Carefully, she slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and walked towards the stairs in her bare feet.

  She was barely awake, and the alcohol had hit her pretty hard from earlier. As she made her way to the main floor, she stopped dead in her tracks. It wasn’t the dryer at all. Someone…or something was creeping about, rifling through her papers, and opening her cabinets. Krista suddenly felt more alert, pressing herself against the wall to listen.

  There were voices, speaking in hushed tones. Was it that Ryland guy? Coming in to cause some trouble after she had kicked him out? As she reached the final step, she realized that the three men standing in the fortune-telling room were most likely complete strangers, and all of them were wearing dark clothes and plastic wolf masks.

  They stared up at her, dropping her things to the floor. She stared back at them, and for a long moment, there was a deafening silence between them. "Ah, I told you she was home," one of them said, his deep voice muffled under the mask.

  “W-who are you?” Krista asked, her voice cracking. “What the hell are you doing in my shop?”

  “We’re here for you of course,” another masked man said in reverence. “We’ve come to bring you home, Oracle.”

  “Oracle? What the f—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, one of them pulled out a long, silver blade. It glimmered in the dark and it was pointed right at Krista. "Thanks, but I’m staying home," Krista said, backing up the stairs. The men moved closer. "You can't run. We've been given specific orders to bring you back alive."

  Krista didn't need to hear any more. She turned and bound up the steps. She could hear them hurrying after her, trying to squeeze themselves up the cramped stairwell. She rushed into her studio and slammed the door shut, promptly dragging a nearby table in front of it. Just as it was in place, a fist slammed through the wood. She screamed at the sound.

  She ran for the kitchen area, grabbed the biggest knife she could find and stabbed it into the gloved hand. The man reared back with a pained cry while the others rammed their bodies into the wood, trying to break it down. Krista's stomach dropped, and she felt frozen in place. The only way out was the window next to her bed, and even that was a risk. But any risk was better than being dragged off by the creepy masked men.

  She made a run for the coffee table, swooping up her mother's pack of tarot cards and ran towards the window. She struggled with the screen and checked behind her just as the door splintered open, flying off its hinges and landing with a heavy thud on the floor.

  As a last resort, she cut through the screen with her knife. There was hardly a place to put her feet, but she managed to scramble out just before she heard the men say where she was going. They’d be coming down the stairs and outside to grab her. Krista hung from the windowsill, her feet swinging in the cold night air.

  Closing her eyes, she let go, letting herself fall into a cluster of bushes under the window. The branches scraped under her t-shirt, scratching against her elbows, but she barely had time to react. Her feet moved on their own as she ran for a fence, jumping over it into someone's backyard.

  She checked behind her, but there was no sign of the men following her. She kept running for another fence, and as she did she heard a low growl. A large black wolf was behind her! She’d never even seen one out here before. It looked hungry—its teeth were bared at her as if waiting to attack.

  Another fence. Krista jumped over it, feeling the breath of the wolf as it snapped at her bare ankles. Its claws skittered at the fence as it tried to jump after her, but she had already made it to a neighborhood sidewalk.

  And right into a man's chest. She collided with him, as if she had hit a brick wall, and her knife skittered to the concrete. Two arms latched around her shoulders, and she flailed and kicked wildly at them, trying to escape. "Let me go you piece of shit!" She screamed.

  “And here I am, coming to apologize,” a voice said. The arms released her, and Krista stepped back to see Ryland looking down at her. “It’s you,” she said, out of breath.

  She heard another growl from nearby. Both of them swiveled and saw the dark wolf-shaped shadows at the end of the street. "They're after me," Krista turned to Ryland, desperate. He looked at the wolves with anger, but not fear. She pushed further into his chest, coaxing him to move. "Hello! I'm trying not to die here!" She cried. She felt his strong hand grip her arm and she was nearly pulled off her feet as Ryland took off with her into the night.

  They came to a nightclub, beats pounding through the walls and onto the sidewalk. Ryland took her down a dark alley off to the side, and made his way towards the ‘staff only' entrance. "We can't just walk in here," Krista said. Ryland looked at her coldly. "You can take the front entrance then," he said. "Good luck getting past the bouncer while you're wearing sweatpants."

  "Can't we go anywhere else but here?" She suggested. As an answer, Ryland pushed open the door, and let a thundering beat out into the alley.

  "They can't track us in here," he said over the music, pulling her inside.

  Krista tried to shrug his hand away, but he led her down a red-lit hallway and into a supply closet. "Let go of me," she said. Ryland promptly removed his hand. "Whatever," he said. "Not like I saved your life or anything…"

  “Thanks…I guess,” Krista said quietly. “You just happened to show up at the right time.”

  “I was actually on my way to your shop,” Ryland clarified, grabbing a handful of paper towels and searching the shelves. “You looked horrified the other day. I wanted to know what it was you saw.”

  “You knew I saw something?”

  "I thought it was pretty obvious. Unless your convulsing was from a seizure or something," he shrugged, finally finding a bottle of something. He knelt down next to Krista, his face just inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and she felt her skin flush as if he had left an imprint. "What are you doing?" she asked when he grabbed the edge of her t-shirt. His fingers brushed lightly against her side.

  “You’re hurt,” he said, pouring rubbing alcohol onto a paper towel.

  “I can do it,” Krista insisted.

  “Fair enough,” Ryland pulled back, the warmth of his touch leaving her. Krista dabbed the paper towel, and winced as the alcohol came into contact with her scraped-up skin. “I didn’t know there were wolves in Central City,” she said.

  “That’s because there aren’t any wolves here,” Ryland said. Krista’s confusion led him to explain. “They’re shifters. People with the spirit of a wolf inside of them. They can transform themselves—they have superior abilities—that kind of stuff.”

  Krista couldn’t help herself, and her laughter found its way out. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I am one,” Ryland said matter-of-factly. Krista nearly keeled over, almost in hysterics.

  “You laugh about shifters and yet you’re a psychic?” Ryland said sternly.

  This made Krista stop. I guess it wasn’t that hard to believe, especially after all the strange things that she’d been seeing lately. “There were men in my shop earlier,” she said. �
��That’s why I was running in the first place. And then the wolves came.”

  “Men? What did they look like?”

  “I don’t know. They were wearing masks. Wolf masks. They were going to kidnap me. They called me something weird…what was it? Oracle?”

  She looked into Ryland’s eyes, only to see that he was dead serious. “So I was right,” he said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Krista asked. Again with the mystery and ominous comments.

  “You need to come back to my place,” Ryland said. “It’s not safe for you to go back.”

  “Can’t I just stay somewhere else?”

  Something in Ryland's eyes looked desperate. He clearly didn't want her to stay somewhere else. "I hate telling you this, but you are very important right now," Ryland said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your gift is incredibly strong. I sought you out because of it. Now I’ve realized that other shifters are trying to get you too.”

  “But why? What’s so special about me?”

  “You can see into the future. That’s one of the most important gifts of all. You might actually be…the oracle.”

  Krista didn’t know what to make of it. She could barely control her visions as they were. How was she supposed to believe she was so important? But the way Ryland kept looking at her told her that something serious was going on. The strange visions, the shadow haunting her dreams, the wolves chasing after her. It was all starting to make some sort of sense. On top of that, she was thinking of her fortune. She was The Fool, about to go on a journey, but one that surely led to destruction and danger.

  “Alright,” she said. “I’ll go. But the second things get too sketchy, I’m out.”

  Ryland seemed somewhat pleased with her answer. As she followed him out of the nightclub she could only hope that she wasn’t being played for an actual fool.