Raised by Wolves

Chapter 60

CHAPTER 60

“ YOUR KIDS?” WENDY says.

“Chester, this is Wendy,” says Holo. He stands there with his hands on his hips, his pants reeking of fish guts. “Also known as Lupa.”

“Lupa,” the chief says. “Like the wolf who raised Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome?”

Wendy nods. “Kai gave me the nickname when she was six. We read a lot of Roman myths back then.” She gives a flick of her fingers. And the wolves—Harriet, Ben, Bim, and Beast—materialize from behind rocks and trees. Their hackles are raised. A low growl comes from Beast’s throat. Harriet’s, too. The Things run and take shelter between their mother’s legs.

“You can probably see why Kai called her that,” Holo says helpfully.

The men shift nervously. But they don’t raise their guns.

Harriet’s growl gets louder. She bares gleaming teeth. Takes a warning step toward the group of men. Several of them flinch. Retreat a little ways.

“She doesn’t like you because we don’t like you,” Holo explains. “Well,” he adds, “we don’t like most of you. We like Chester and Waylon.”

“If you like me,” Waylon says, “does that mean this terrifying beast won’t maul me?”

“Probably,” Holo says. “But you never really know.”

“Wolves,” Wendy says softly, “it’s okay.”

Harriet lowers her ears and sits down on her haunches. Bim and Ben fade into the trees. Only Beast remains standing, her lips pulled back in a warning grimace.

“You can control them,” Waylon says, his voice full of wonder.

“It is not control,” Wendy says. “I suggest actions to them, actions which they are free to take—or not. We have an understanding.”

“Amazing,” says Waylon softly. He looks over at me. “You were telling the truth the whole time.”

“Part of it,” I manage. I’m clutching my wounded hand. And I’m trembling as the horror of the situation sinks in.

They’ve found our home. Our whole lives we kept ourselves hidden, and now they’ve found us, and it’s my fault.

All of this is because of me.

Grief twists in my stomach like a sickness.

“What’s your full name, Wendy?” the chief asks.

Wendy gazes at him with her dark, wise eyes. “Wendy,” she says. “Only Wendy.”

Just like I am only Kai, and Holo is only Holo. What did we need two names for? For years upon years, we were the only people we knew.

“Are you their mother?”

Wendy hesitates. She looks at us. There’s so much love in her eyes that it hurts. I’m dying to know what she’s going to say, and she’s about to answer when the chief asks a different question. “Wait, let me rephrase that—did you give birth to these children?”

And Wendy shakes her head.

No.

“How long have they been in your care?”

“Thirteen years.”

The chief’s head drops. “Jesus,” he mutters to his feet.

I’m sorry you had to find out this way , I think.

He looks up at Wendy again. His eyes are cold. “Do you have a right to keep them in your care?” he asks. “Are you their legally appointed guardian?”

Conflicting emotions swirl across her thin, weathered face: fear and defiance, terror and love.

“Ma’am?”

Never lie , she always said to us.

We didn’t listen to her, did we? We lied to protect her.

But she won’t lie to protect herself.

“No,” Wendy says quietly.

“I need you to come with me,” the chief says.

“What for?”

The chief unclips the handcuffs from his belt. “Turn around, please,” he says.

“I don’t understand. What is this about? I’ve done no harm!”

“Chester, don’t,” Holo cries, but the chief ignores him.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you’re doing with these kids. You’re under arrest for suspected kidnapping,” the chief says.

“She didn’t kidnap us,” Holo yells.

“Then where did she get you? And where are your real parents?” the chief demands.

The question’s like a bullet to the heart. We don’t know.

We have never known.