Raised by Wolves

Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

I SWEAR MY heart stops.

The chief makes a strangled sound in his throat. “I don’t think we want to see that,” he says. “We can take your word for it.”

“But I did a real nice job skinnin’ him,” Hardy says. “Might make myself a fur coat.” He grins horribly. His teeth are yellow and crooked. I want to kick every last one of them down into his throat.

“I want to see,” I growl. I have to see.

I need to know who it is.

Hardy looks so smug and ugly, I feel my fists clenching again. He stalks back toward the barn. “Come on, then,” he says over his shoulder.

My stomach’s knotted up and my feet feel like they’re made of lead. I know all the wolves around here, so my only hope is that this one’s a disperser—a wolf who left its pack to form a new one and ended up getting killed for it.

But you didn’t see Ernie the other night, Kai, did you?

I push the thought away.

The chief comes up alongside me. “I think you should go back to the car. Wait for me there.”

“No way.”

Now that my heart’s beating again, every thud of it hurts like a punch. But I tell myself that Ernie’s a wise wolf. He’s the alpha. Aloof, intelligent, strong. He wouldn’t let himself get killed by an idiot.

The chief reaches for my hand, grabs it, gives it a quick squeeze. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “No matter what.”

Of course I want him to be right. But why wasn’t Ernie with the pack? He wouldn’t have missed the chance to show off his beautiful babies, would he? When Bim and Ben were born, he strutted back and forth across the meadow, his tail waving like a flag.

Hardy yanks open the barn door. The smell of hay and manure rolls out. And there’s another smell I recognize.

Death.

“Right this way,” Hardy says. And he gives a mocking bow.

It’s dark in the barn. A few dusty shafts of light fall down through the cracks in the plank walls. The smell’s overpowering now. A lump rises in my throat.

“There he is,” Hardy says proudly. “Or what’s left of him, anyway.”

Nailed to the barn wall is the pelt of a giant, silvery-gray wolf. The tail’s stubby and tinged with black at the tip. Just like Ernie’s. I grab onto the chief to keep from falling.

No, no, no.

“Kai?” the chief whispers.

Hardy stands there, bowlegged and proud. “A wolf’s no match for a Winchester,” he says. “Though it did take him a long time to die.”

With a growl that turns into a scream, I charge toward Hardy. When our bodies collide he goes stumbling backward. I hook a leg behind his and give him another hard shove. Falling, he reaches out—grabs my shirt—tries to pull me down with him. I land a hard chop to his forearm. He lets go. Falls. Lands hard on the barn floor.

You think it’s hard to wrestle a man? It isn’t—not if you practice with wolves.

I go crashing down on top of his chest. Dust and hay fly up. Hardy curses and struggles. He slaps me hard but he can’t get himself free. I’m punching and scratching at his face like a wild animal. “You killed my friend!” Tears are streaming down my face. “He was a dad !”

Hardy bucks beneath me. My nails scratch bloody lines on his cheek. I grab his hair and hold him still with my left hand while I punch him with the right. It feels so good, I could do this forever.

Humans are the only animals that understand revenge.

Suddenly I’m yanked backward by big, strong hands. I kick and scream. I want to kill Hardy and I’m about to do it, too.

But the chief pulls me away. He yanks me up and shoves me against the wall and holds me there. He says, low and fierce, “If you don’t stop, Kai, I will take you to jail and I will not let you out.”

I go limp. All the anger drains out of me, and grief fills up the space it left behind. My shoulders shake with sobs. Snot pours out of my nose. I can barely breathe from crying.

Hardy lies in the straw, cursing. “I’ll sue!” he spits. “You and the county and all of you bastards!”

Still holding me by the shoulders, the chief says calmly, “Mr. Hardy, with all due respect, you got a little kitten scratch just now. You want to press charges for that? I don’t think you do. Because investigations look very carefully at the accused— and the accuser.”

“It ain’t over,” Hardy hisses. He rolls over and retches into the straw.

“It is for now,” the chief says. And then he guides me toward the door.

I can barely see through my tears.

“Why’d you pull me off him?” I cry.

The chief smiles grimly. “In case you didn’t notice,” he says, “I took my time in doing it. You’re welcome, Kai.”