A Pack of Blood and Lies

by Olivia Wildenstein

  Aidan smiled, and his knuckle whitened on the trigger.

  The stink of gunfire tore through the air at the same time my body rocketed sideways. My head glanced against the flagstones so hard pale stars exploded in the corner of my vision. I blinked sluggishly. The world came back into focus, but all I could see was darkness.

  Dense, soft blackness.

  I reached out, and my fingertips met fur.

  Even though moving made my skull scream in pain, I shifted to see past the fur.

  A black wolf lay on top of me.

  He’d knocked me out of the bullet’s path, but now he was crushing my lungs. I shifted again, this time extricating my body from underneath the beast.

  A volley of snarls and screams echoed next to me. Gritting my teeth, I twisted toward the cacophony. A gray wolf was on top of Aidan, fangs bared at the psycho’s ashen, pulpy face. Aidan’s lips moved. The bastard was still alive. How I wished he were dead.

  He spit at the wolf. It struck the man’s face with its giant paw. Aidan’s cheek slammed hard against the sticky, wet stones. His purple-veined lids slid shut, lashes fluttering against sallow skin.

  I pressed my shaky palm against the ground and heaved myself into a sitting position.

  The gray wolf magicked away his fur and claws and fangs. Lucas. He whipped his head toward me. The area around his mouth was tinged crimson, and his black hair was as wild as his blue gaze.

  “Liam!” he yelled as he jumped off Aidan and soared toward me.

  Liam?

  Liam had saved me?

  “Liam!”

  He lay still, as still as Aidan and the hound.

  A new wave of terror beat at the back of my throat.

  Lucas rolled Liam’s large lupine form over and pressed a hand against his flank. When Lucas drew his fingers away, his palm was dyed a deep red. “Call Matt!”

  Sick chills pulsated through me.

  “Ness! Fucking call him!” Lucas hollered.

  Hands shaking, I dug through my bag for my phone. I managed to grasp it, but it slipped out of my slick fingers and tumbled on the stones.

  Lucas, who’d pressed his hand back against the wound in Liam’s side, growled at me. “Are you waiting for him to die?”

  “N-No.” I seized my phone again. Entered the wrong code. Twice. The third time I managed to unlock it. I began scrolling through my contacts when I remembered I didn’t have Matt’s phone number. “I d-don’t have it.”

  Lucas barked the number at me.

  Fingertips tap-tapping against the screen, it took me several attempts to get the number entered right.

  Matt’s voice came on before I could even speak. “Who’s this?”

  I was trying to gather my voice, but it kept jamming behind my jumpy breaths. “M-M-Matt…”

  “Ness?”

  I nodded stupidly.

  Matt couldn’t hear me nod.

  Lucas growled and tore the phone from my inept fingers. While he spoke, I touched Liam’s neck. I felt a soft flutter nip my fingertips.

  I smoothed the fur on his cheek. “He-He’s alive.”

  “Barely,” Lucas muttered. “The fucker probably used a silver bullet.” He twisted to look at Aidan, who hadn’t moved.

  His chest still rose and fell, but he was out cold.

  “If Liam dies, I’m going to shred Aidan Michaels’s body with my claws, then tear his carotid out with my fangs, and then I’ll watch him bleed the fuck out.”

  It was petty, but the pack’s double-standards stung.

  “Fuck. I can’t staunch the fucking blood.”

  “Here.” I pulled my tank top off, then balled it up and handed it to Lucas.

  He wadded it against the hole.

  “Is there an exit wound?”

  Lucas blinked at me, and then, clutching my t-shirt, he lifted his friend’s leg and felt blindly for a puckered hole. “I can’t goddamn see anything!”

  I scooted over and prodded the velvety flesh, seeking depressions. Found none. The bullet was still inside Liam.

  And if it was made of silver…

  I shuddered then returned to Liam’s head and pressed my palm delicately against his nose. It was wet and cold, pulsing weak breaths against my clammy skin.

  It should’ve been my leg that leaked blood.

  It should’ve been me.

  Why did you do that?

  As I stroked his fur, a car engine roared and rubber squealed.

  A silver sedan glinted in the darkness.

  Matt was here.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Matt must’ve ground his foot into the brake, because the tires shrieked as the Dodge vaulted to a stop. He opened his door, and then, face as pale as the clouds twisting over the moon, he pumped open his trunk, took out a heavy blanket, and jogged toward us. Without uttering a single word, he spread the heavy fabric on the blood-soaked flagstones, then shoved me aside, crooked one arm underneath Liam’s neck, and snared his forepaws.

  “Ness, hold it down!” Lucas jerked his head toward my tank top still wedged against the gushing wound.

  I scrambled to my feet and gripped the sodden fabric.

  Lucas hooked his arms around Liam’s rump, and on Matt’s signal, they hoisted their friend onto the blanket. Then they crimped its edges with white-knuckled fingers and heaved. I straightened in time with them, keeping a steady pressure on Liam’s flank.

  I only let go when Matt shouted at me to open the passenger door. He placed his end of the body inside, then loped around the car and crawled onto the backseat. Breathing jaggedly, he tugged the blanket until Liam was entirely sprawled on the backseat, then flung the door shut.

  I got in next to Liam. Laid his head on my cold, goose-fleshed thighs. And then I resumed pressing my tank against his injury. Car doors slammed, and then tires screeched and headlights burned a white path down the road.

  As we zipped through the darkness, I heard snippets of Lucas’s and Matt’s conversation—he was trying to shoot her…out cold, but not dead…silver bullet, I think…Greg is on his way.

  “That’s not the way to the hospital,” I said when Matt hung a left instead of a right.

  He twisted around long enough to glare at me.

  “We’re not going to the hospital. We’re not going to a vet either.” There was no humor in his voice. Just anger.

  He was angry with me. I wondered if it had solely to do with tonight, or if other factors—like the engagement party I’d attended on the arm of the enemy pack Alpha—contributed to his antagonism.

  I stared down at Liam, my fingers moving gently through the long, silky black strands on his neck. His fur began shortening, retreating inside his pores. Next, his snout receded, and his ears migrated back to the sides of his face.

  “Guys, he’s shifting.” The dark shape draped over my legs became a human face with sallow skin and a pale, gaping mouth.

  “Fuck,” Lucas said.

  I guessed it wasn’t a good thing. But why, I had no—

  My hand stilled on Liam’s brow.

  My father had shifted back when the silver had leaked into his heart, draining his werewolf magic and then his life.

  My vision tilted and blurred, and the fingers gripping my balled, sodden top curled so hard around the fabric that rivulets of blood ran over Liam’s burnished thigh.

  Liam was dying.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It had started to rain during the drive over to Liam’s house. Soft drops pelted the windshield and then the navy cover wrapped around Liam.

  My bare stomach was covered in goose bumps that had little to do with the weather and everything to do with the direness of Liam’s predicament, and the memories of another time when another silver bullet had pierced the flesh of another wolf. I crossed my arms in front of me, to cover myself and to ward off the chill in my bones.

  Seconds after we arrived, a middle-aged man wearing rubber Crocs and navy scrubs knocked on the door. “Where’s Liam?”

&nb
sp; I assumed this was Greg, the doctor Matt had mentioned in the car. The man was neither part of our pack, nor did he smell like a wolf. From the way he dressed, I took it he was a real doctor. He blustered in, squeezing a black nylon duffel in one hand. I trailed him inside Liam’s dusky bedroom, keeping my eyes averted from the cadaverous-looking body nestled underneath a brown fleece cover.

  Even though my gaze was fixed to the painting of an oversized peacock feather that hung over the stone fireplace, cocooned in a Plexiglas box, my attention was on the hushed conversation whirring around Liam.

  “You’re going to have to help me, Matt,” Greg was saying. “Hold him down.”

  My teeth ground hard as I heard metal clink—probably surgical tools.

  “Ready?” Greg asked.

  Matt must’ve nodded because the next thing I knew, a hoarse cry shredded the room. Liam was definitely not dead. As suddenly as it arose, the cry abated, and the room oozed with silence.

  Abysmal silence.

  “I see it,” Greg said. “Hold him down again.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight.

  This time, the cry was muted, as though Liam’s ability to form sounds had gotten bogged down in a web of sticky breaths.

  Metal pinged against metal. Footsteps. The gush of water. Was it over? Was Greg washing his hands? Had he retrieved the bullet?

  I peeked toward Liam, who was out cold. His face was pale and shiny with sweat, like melted candle wax. A matching sheen of perspiration gleamed on Matt’s large, furrowed forehead. He was talking softly, steadily, using gentle words and shared memories to bring his friend back to life.

  Lucas stood vigil on Liam’s other side, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans surely borrowed from Liam. When his murky gaze met mine, I jolted my eyes toward my bare, bloodied midriff.

  I was an intruder… I had no right to be here.

  So I left.

  The living room was bright. Too bright. I rubbed my eyes, wishing I could rub the horror of the night out. Waiting for news, I perched on the edge of the couch. I tried to pray like Evelyn did when I accompanied her to mass, but then remembered how many prayers I’d sent upward for my mother and how deafening the answering silence had been.

  The tangle of male voices in the bedroom had me perking up. The conversation was still hushed, but I caught a lilt to the tone. Greg must’ve gotten the bullet out… Or maybe it wasn’t made of silver.

  That would be good.

  A moment later, Matt emerged from the bedroom, shoulders hunched but forehead smoother.

  “Is he— Did—” Nerves tore the volume from my voice.

  “Greg got the bullet out. It was whole.”

  I raked my clammy palms over my thighs and exhaled a deep sigh.

  Matt tossed a piece of fabric at me—a plaid shirt. Since he was still wearing his, I assumed it was one of Liam’s. I slipped it on, and the scent of Liam enveloped me.

  “Thank you.” I didn’t dare meet Matt’s gaze. Just the heavy, reproachful feel of it was painful. “Was it made of silver?”

  “Yes.”

  I shuddered, then rubbed the right side of my skull that tingled from a lump the size of an egg.

  The couch cushion dimpled as Matt took a seat next to me. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just shook up.”

  Matt’s lips were pinched. “We told you to stay away from Aidan Michaels, but you didn’t listen.” He shook his head. “I don’t get you, Ness. I thought I did. I thought I had you all figured out. I thought you were some shy, sweet girl trying to act all tough to fit into the pack, but I don’t think you’re shy. And I don’t think you’re trying to fit into the pack.”

  I swallowed, twining my fingers together in my lap. Like Matt, I was no longer sure I knew who I was and what I was doing.

  “Why did you go see the Pines, Ness? And please don’t tell me it was for money, because we’ll all pitch in and give you the amount you need. You’d have to ask, but we’d do it.” He touched my knee lightly, and I flinched. “Asking for help isn’t a weakness. It’s not a flaw either.”

  My eyes went hot. With shame. But also with gratitude.

  How I wished I could unburden myself, but if I told Matt my reasons for visiting the Pines, I’d be inking my death sentence.

  “It was a job,” I lied, and then I repeated the words I’d heard Mom yell at Evelyn, “I don’t want charity. ” That was true at least. Like my mother, I had my pride. She’d worn it throughout her life like armor, and it had earned her the respect of many.

  Matt loosed a rough sigh. “And what were you doing at Aidan Michaels’s house?”

  This time, I told him the truth. How I’d hoped to understand why he’d killed my father. How I’d planned on entrapping him with a recorded confession.

  Matt snorted.

  “What?”

  “Aidan Michaels is the biggest benefactor of the Boulder PD. He’s got every officer crawling around this town in his pocket. If I can give you some advice—which I hope you’ll actually listen to this time—don’t…ever…go to the police. Some people in the department are aware of our existence, and they share Aidan’s view—that we’re abominations. If they weren’t scared shitless of what we would do to their families if they waged an attack, they’d have tried to eliminate us a long time ago.”

  Lucas came out of the bedroom, and we both looked up at him expectantly. “The good doctor needs alcohol.” He swiped a bottle of tequila from the rollaway bar tucked in the corner of the living room. I must’ve frowned, because Lucas added, “To disinfect the wound. We’re not celebrating…yet.” He flicked his gaze to Matt, then vanished back inside the dark bedroom.

  “How did they know I was there?” My voice was as quiet as the cold air murmuring through the vent in the ceiling.

  “Aidan is enemy number one of the pack. We’ve breached his security system, so we have eyes on him at all times. My brother, Cole, is a tech prodigy. He’s constantly monitoring the dude. When he noticed you there, he called me. Liam and Lucas were with me. Liam…he flipped.” Matt scratched a spot behind his ear. “He said you got real upset earlier over Heath’s decision not to seek retribution. Anyway, he was sure Aidan was going to kill you, or do…worse things to you.”

  Guilt ravaged me. But then the conversation I’d had with Aidan played in my mind.

  “Aidan shot my father because he thought it was Heath. Could Aidan…could he have killed Liam’s father?” I sounded so pathetically hopeful.

  Matt stared long and hard at me.

  “Like I said, Cole monitors him,” Matt said slowly. “Aidan was inside his house all night.”

  “Maybe he got someone else to do it for him?”

  “Maybe.”

  That little word buoyed me more than Julian’s support.

  Lucas padded back out into the living room. He wasn’t smiling, but his mouth was softer. “The wound’s closing up. He’s healing.”

  Air whooshed out of Matt’s lungs. “Thank God.”

  “I’d thank Greg, not God.” Lucas’s voice pinged around the glass walls enclosing the living room. “I need to go debrief the pack.”

  His relief was making him jumpy and borderline giddy. I half expected him to hug Matt and pound him on the back, but Lucas did neither. He just asked his friend for a ride.

  As though remembering I was there, Matt offered to drop me back at the inn. I rose just as Greg came out of the bedroom, wiping his hands on a steel-gray towel that reminded me of the one Liam had tied around his waist the night he—

  “He’s asking for you, Ness,” Greg said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I sucked in air so harshly I coughed. “He wants to see me?”

  Greg nodded, while Lucas and Matt exchanged a silent, weighted glance.

  “You staying, right, Greg?” Lucas asked.

  “Sure.”

  Lucas pinned me with his blue stare. “Just until one of us comes back.”

  Did Lucas fear I would finish the job t
he bullet had botched, or was he scared Liam might need a doctor on standby? I hoped it was the latter but believed it was the former. Sadly, Lucas and Matt had every right to be distrustful of me.

  “I’ll stay out here.” Greg sat on the sofa, then picked up a large book from the wrought-iron coffee table. The History of Wolves.

  I wondered if it mentioned werewolves.

  “We should be back in a half hour max,” Matt said.

  “That’s fine,” Greg said. “I’m not on call tonight.”

  So he was a real doctor.

  He put his feet up on the table and feigned great interest in the reading material on his lap.

  “You gonna be okay in there, Clark?” Lucas asked.

  I doubted he cared if I would be okay. What he cared about was if Liam would be okay with me in the same room. Still, I said, “Yes,” before I advanced toward the bedroom. Even though the door was ajar, I knuckled it. “Can I come in?”

  A hoarse, “Yes,” answered me.

  Without looking back at the others, I entered the bedroom, leaving the door open to show I had no ill intent. Liam was propped up on three pillows. Although still pale, some color had returned to his cheeks and some life to his eyes. In the darkness, they gleamed disquietingly bright, their beam ensnaring me. The hard set of his jaw told me he was angry.

  Really angry.

  The front door banged shut, and I jumped.

  “Close the door.” His voice was deep and raspy, as though the bullet had scraped his throat.

  My heart banged like Aidan’s shotgun.

  “Please.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his corded neck.

  I bit my lower lip, eyeing the doorknob. Finally, I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal and pushed it. The click of the latch bolt against the strike plate echoed harshly in the quiet room.

  I’d decided never to lay eyes on him after what he’d done to me, and here I was locking myself inside a bedroom with him. The night was stretching the limits of my sanity. I crossed my arms and raised my gaze to his.

  “I know you can’t stand to look at me after what I did to you.” He watched what his words did to me.