Raised by Wolves

Chapter 47

CHAPTER 47

“LACEY MIGHT GET to come home today,” Holo tells me as we walk along the road into town. “This girl in Spanish class told me. Her mom works at the hospital.”

“That’s great,” I say absently. I’m still thinking about Waylon. Being around him makes me feel jittery. Vulnerable.

And if I know anything at all, it’s that being vulnerable is dangerous.

“Maybe we should make her a cake,” Holo muses. “Do you think she’d like chocolate or vanilla?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the one she made,” I say.

“Probably chocolate,” he says, ignoring me.

I’m about to point out that we have no business baking when something big and heavy slams into me from behind. I go sprawling facedown on the road. My teeth smack together on the end of my tongue. My mouth fills with blood as my chin grinds into the asphalt. I can practically hear my skin rip open.

A foot presses down hard on my back.

Holo lands on the ground next to me. His chin splits open, too.

I don’t have to see our attackers to know who they are. And I’m going to seriously hurt them—that is, if I can get up.

“Do you like that, freak?” I can hear the smirk in Mac Hardy’s voice. “Being down in the dirt like an animal?”

I don’t think I can answer. All the air’s being pushed out of me. I meet Holo’s frightened gaze. It looks like he can’t breathe, either. I reach out and touch his arm. Gently. Comfortingly. Just for a second.

Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.

Hardy digs his heel in harder. My back cracks.

“I said , ‘Do you like that?’”

I violently twist my body around and sit up in one fluid motion. Mac Hardy’s foot slides off and he stumbles sideways.

“Not really,” I gasp. By now I’m on my feet and crouching low, ready. I’ll let him make the first move.

But it’s Logan who goes for me first. Out of the corner of my eye I see him lunging, fist swinging hard and wide. I dodge him as Holo gets up from the road. Blood streams from his chin.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I say reproachfully.

“It’s rude,” Holo agrees, blotting blood with his T-shirt.

Mac and Logan stand shoulder to shoulder now, fists like hammers. Clenched. “Let’s go!” Logan says. “Come on, let’s go!”

Holo frowns. “Go where?”

Mac sneers.

“I think it means ‘let’s fight,’” I say.

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Holo says.

I bounce on my toes. Holo and I stand loose and ready. We’re quicker and lighter and we’re not scared.

Sure, they’re twice as big as we are. But when it comes down to it, they’re just domesticated beasts. Like bulls. And as big as bulls are, they’re still prey animals.

Whereas Holo and I are predators.

“Ribs or teeth?” I ask my brother.

“Definitely teeth,” he says.

Mac and Logan glance at each other, like what are these freaks talking about?

Holo and I smile at them. Then we charge.

Holo lands a punch on the side of Logan’s jaw before the kid sees what’s coming. A high kick sends my foot crashing into Mac’s mouth. Blood gushes from his split lips. He roars in rage and comes at me. I spin away. I aim another kick right between his legs. That bends him in two.

Logan has Holo in a headlock, but my brother’s elbowing him in the guts, bam bam bam . Then Holo gets his mouth on Logan’s arm—and he bites. Logan screams and lets him go, and my brother stands up and sends a fist into Logan’s chin. He hooks an arm around Logan’s neck and pulls him downward, forcing him to his knees.

Mac’s gone purple in the face. He’s still got one hand on his crotch.

The Hardys are on the defensive and they know it.

I guess that’s why Mac pulls out the gun.

He grins at me as he cocks it. But he’s not pointing at me. He’s pointing it at my brother.

“There’s a couple grand bounty on a wolf these days,” he says. “What’s the bounty on a teenage freak?”

Holo freezes. Lets go of Logan, who crawls away on his hands and knees.

“Ribs or teeth?” Mac says tauntingly.

Holo says, “Mac, don’t.”

“ Beg ,” Mac says. He swings the gun toward me, then back to my brother.

Instead of cowering, Holo stands up straighter. He says, “You overfed slob, you couldn’t hit me in the teeth if you tried.”

A flicker of rage crosses Mac’s pink face. “I’ll take that bet,” he says. He sights down the gun’s barrel.

Holo’s eyes flick over at me. Help.

Silent and quick, I reach down. I grab a broken branch from the side of the road and I bring it down with all my strength on Mac’s gun hand. He howls and drops the weapon. It goes off with a sharp bang. Logan drops to the ground, hands covering his head.

The gun’s lying in the dirt. I lunge for it. So does Mac. But I get there first. I grab it and point it right at his ugly face. “You want us to beg? Let me tell you something, grease stain. Dogs beg. Wolves kill.”