Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(38)

“Before they were exterminated in war, the elves were the terrors of the world,” Amos said. “They were merciless—but their intelligence and abilities are simply unmatched in today’s age.” He sighed and shook his head as if he was sad for the loss of the race that literally all supernaturals had banded up against to defeat.

Elves had been the apex predator of supernaturals. But they weren’t content with that—they intended to wage war on humanity, and were convinced they’d win and could enslave them.

All other supernaturals banded together for the first—and only—time in history to defeat them. Since then we’d perpetuated the beautiful myth to the humans that the elves had “died out” centuries ago when we went public, rather than reveal to them that the supernaturals were a great deal more deadly than they could imagine.

“We all know the truth of the elves,” Wyatt said. “If that’s your big reveal, I question your ability to lead this investigation.”

Amos ignored him and clasped his hands behind his back, looking more gleeful by the moment—which was starting to stir my gut in apprehension.

“Masters of magic, the elves had a great number of special magics that we still can’t recreate—spells and artifacts that were lost to time. Among them is a long forgotten potion…wolfsbane.”

Aeric and Wyatt froze, but Remy and Forrest—younger and less experienced, squinted in their ignorance.

Remy frowned. “Isn’t that just a plant?”

Amos opened his mouth, but I rushed to answer before him—because he’d explain it in the cruelest way possible.

“It’s a potion only the elves could ever brew. It takes away a shifter’s humanity—not just werewolves, any shifter—leaving them with animal instincts and trapped in their animal shapes,” I said.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Amos brandished a finger at me. “What your little pet hunter didn’t say, is that they used it on shifters to destroy Packs and ruin their leadership…and to keep shifters as tame animals around their homes.”

I gritted my teeth and glanced at the werewolves, trying to judge their reactions.

“They what?” Forrest left the pickleball court and strode over to our circle.

Amos chuckled. “That’s right, they used to make you into over-glorified pets!”

Amelia gasped and covered her mouth while Young Jack lunged forward to grab Teresa—who was shaking her head in denial.

Forrest shivered with anger. He took a step toward Amos, but Wyatt grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back.

It was a truth, one that showed just how twisted the elves had been near the end. But for the werewolves—who value the open air and running through the woods with absolute freedom—it was devastating.

Remy turned to Wyatt—who was still gripping Forrest’s shoulder—and Aeric. “That can’t be real,” she argued. “Magic like that couldn’t exist!”

Wyatt and Aeric stared straight at Amos, their expressions unflinching.

Desperate, Remy, Young Jack, and Amelia turned to me.

“He’s lying, isn’t he, Pip?” Amelia asked.

I stared Amos down. “Wolfsbane is real. We hunters are trained to recognize it—in case it ever popped up again. But it won’t. Wolfsbane died with the elves,” I said. “They never shared the recipe with the fae, and even if they had, it can only be made with elf magic.”

“Perhaps.” Amos scuffed his boots in the grass. “But occasionally someone unearths a vial or two, and wolves start turning up feral. That’s what happened to the poor Low Marsh wolf.”

“That’s impossible,” Aeric said. “No one in Northern Wisconsin has those kinds of resources to find that kind of a potion, much less afford to buy it on the black market.”

“Oh, but they did. We have tests that confirm the Low Marsh wolf was dosed with wolfsbane.” Amos said. “We confirmed that elf magic had been used on the wolf as soon as we arrived—that was the supposedly unknown magic found in its blood. But the Regional Committee of Magic itself confirmed the presence of wolfsbane when we sent in a blood sample with our tests.”

Amos prowled up to Remy, getting in the young werewolf’s face. “And we’re going to uncover exactly how your precious Alpha got it.”

Remy snarled, her lovely face twisting in her anger. “There’s no way our Alpha had anything to do with something like that!”

Radcliff and Scarlett both shifted their stances, and their hands crept toward the waistbands of their pants—where they likely had hidden weapons. But Aeric casually grabbed Remy by the back of her neck and dragged her backward with no sign of difficulty.

Radcliff and Scarlett didn’t settle back into place. Instead they looked to their uncle, who spread his arms wide. “Who else would have done it?” Amos asked. “You pointed out no one has the resources to afford such a thing…except, perhaps, for the Northern Lakes Pack which annually grows in members and monetary value.”

There was something in the way he snarled the Pack name that worried me. He doesn’t like the Pack. But why? They’re thriving, cause no trouble, and have improved werewolf relationships with humans.

I paid zero attention to his accusations.

Greyson wasn’t my favorite werewolf, but he was undeniably a near perfect leader. He’d never do such a thing to another wolf.