Mated in Mist (Talon Pack #3)(16)

“I’ll show you to your room,” he said woodenly.

She followed him to the back of the house and stayed silent as he showed her around the guest room and bathroom. There was a stack of clothes on the bed that smelled of Brynn, and he couldn’t help but think that his sister saw far too much. All the Brentwoods did.

He let out a shaky breath as his claws slid through the skin on his fingertips.

Time was up.

“I need to go on a run,” he growled out.

She turned on her heel and stared at him. Whatever she saw didn’t scare her openly, but he knew if he didn’t get out of there fast, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions.

“Go,” she said simply.

“I’ll turn on the security panel for you. When I get back, I’ll get your handscan turned in so you can come and go as you please.” Sweat beaded on his brow and he dug his claws into his skin, the slight sting of pain relieving his wolf ever so slightly.

He nodded at her, refusing to touch her, though his wolf demanded it, and walked as quickly as he could out of his house and toward the woods. He couldn’t let the others know how close to the edge he was. He couldn’t let them down. If they saw him now, they’d lose their faith in his abilities to protect them. And at a time where they needed all the faith they could get, his breakdown would be disastrous.

When he reached his secret part of the woods where the trees gathered to form a sort of glen, he fell to his knees. He clawed off his clothes, too far gone to save them. He’d have to go home as wolf, but he couldn’t care right then.

He pulled on the thread that connected wolf to man and let the change come. Each wolf changed differently, the pain coming in waves for some, warm agony for others.

For him, it was torture—depravity and chaos each time.

It didn’t ease as he aged, didn’t lessen with practice.

Instead, he screamed inwardly as bones broke, tendons tore, and his skin flayed itself over and over. His body became sweat-slick, and he emptied his stomach until it became dry heaves. Usually, he shifted enough and controlled his wolf with enough strength that he didn’t show the others his pain.

But when he fought his wolf like this he couldn’t hold back.

When he was finally wolf, his body ached and his joints felt as if they’d been glued together wrong. He threw back his head and howled, knowing the others would hear his song, but hopefully not register the meaning behind it.

He’d run through the woods, let the wind and magic of his den flow through his fur and allow his wolf to mourn the loss of what they could never have.

Ryder had been born with the secret darkness of a long-lost tradition and had kept it close to his heart all this time. He’d known he’d have to break his soul and wolf when he finally met the one woman who could be his, but he hadn’t known it would hurt like this.

He’d lost his future before he’d even had a chance to venture on the path. And yet, it was for the best. It had to be. Because if it weren’t, all of this was for nothing. And with the world’s foundation crumbling beneath their feet, he couldn’t afford to wallow in the pity of his decisions. He’d have to move on and show the world—and Leah—he was strong.

It was just another lie in a sea of many. But he would do it. For her. For him. For everyone.





STRATEGY


General Keith Montag did not believe in failure. At least not his. For if he failed, then it was because the ones around him hadn’t excelled to their true potential. For the most part, he didn’t allow others to fail around him. Therefore, he didn’t fail.

So when his men had come up empty when it came to their prey, he’d punished them.

They didn’t deserve to breathe another breath, but he couldn’t have humans dying until the time was right. Of course, a few had died when the male witch fought back, but Montag had used that to his advantage. Leaking the video to the media had been the plan all along, but the fact that his men had died in the process had only made the reveal that much sweeter.

Now the population was not only scared of the raving beasts, but also of the abominations that looked human.

He’d use that fear.

He always did.

Of course, the plan hadn’t gone the way he’d truly wanted it to. He’d wanted to take the twin witches in to study them. The matching set of water witches would have helped his research tenfold. The one that had led him on the path to the witches had promised him that their potential was unmatched. Montag had wanted to use that for his men, either by finding a way to harness that power or by having them join him on his side of unity.

Then the witches had fought back in a way he hadn’t predicted.

They’d also run to the damn wolves and gotten too close for comfort.

His men had shot the witches, and the wolves had taken the bodies. He still didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but what he did know was that he didn’t have them in hand. He’d find out what happened and do what he could to get them back. The one that had betrayed the twins in the first place had promised great things, and Montag wanted everything that came with that.

His men had failed.

And that couldn’t be allowed.

His men had been unsuccessful at taking care of the wolf problem a year ago on that grassy hill during the Unveiling, as well.

He was becoming impatient. And when he was impatient, people died.