Pack of Wolves by Maggie Claire (read along books .TXT) 📕

and their horses bolt toward the House of Piranhas, dodging arrows from archers at the top of the roof. Despite the grizzly scene, Cyrus cannot tear his eyes away. A few of Wolf’s soldiers fall, and immediately Fox, Bittern, and Grouse spring into action. They pick their way through the mud, drawn to the injured by their harrowing cries. While the House of Piranhas has some advantage, the people are no match for trained warriors like Wolf’s soldiers. Within a matter of minutes, the house is invaded. The soldiers drag out as many of the house members as they can, keeping them alive when possible. An injury to the arm or leg quickly subdues most of them. And a knife to the hearts or across the throats of the rebellious ones scares the living into submission.

“Why keep them alive? What is he planning?” Cyrus mumbles as his head twitches involuntarily against the binds. With each swipe of a sword, Cyrus imagines the victim as himself. He dies a thousand deaths on that battlefield, each one breaking the remnants of his mind and shattering his heart’s last shred of free will. His body begins to quake as he watches the soldiers swarm around the house members who’ve been captured, easily cutting off any chance for escape. I know what you feel, he calls out to them in pity. I am just as much a prisoner as you are.

Wolf and Shark face off at the center of the battle, and their fight is brief. In smooth, fluid motions, Wolf slips his sword between two of Shark’s ribs. When he falls to the ground, his eyes have already glazed gray with the veil of death. Wolf whistles shrilly over the melee around him, and those of his men still fighting cease their attacks immediately. “Your leader is dead. You will submit to my judgment. If you fight, you die now. If you go quietly, I might spare you.” Wolf searches the grounds until he finds a makeshift prison that suits him. “Take the prisoners and haul them to the stables. Stand guard around the fence. If anyone steps out of the boundary, kill him or her immediately.”

It only takes one rebel to make an example. A young man in a bright blue mask with yellow striping around its perimeter slams his fist into the chin of the nearest soldier. He weaves through the crowd, his slight form aiding his lithe movements. “Where are you?” He cries, his voice piercing as he searches the crowd.

“Tang! NO! Don’t do it!” A woman shrieks from the steps of the House of Piranhas. She holds a tiny child in her arms, but her eyes are focused completely on the man racing toward her. “Please, oh please! Go back! Tang!”

“No mercy!” Wolf announces, raising the bow and arrow himself. The soft thwack of the bowstring radiates through the crowd as though its force is as catastrophic as an avalanche. The woman wails, the strength of her hold on the child causing it to cry. The man falls flat on his face as the arrow punctures his heart, his last breath leaving his body before his head even hits the ground.

Silence falls over the House of Piranhas. It is a full, furious sound. Rage, hatred, and righteous anger seethe in the hearts of the captured. They are a collective match, and with the right amount of friction, rebellious fires will burn in their hearts. Wolf’s soldiers sense this, and they tighten their perimeter around the mob as if they are closing the gap in a noose before pulling the final lever to make the enemy swing. They hold their knives pointed toward the people like a row of hungry teeth just waiting for someone to bite.

“You didn’t have to kill him!” The woman screams as she races off the porch, her breathing growing shallow as she falls to her knees by Tang’s side. “You didn’t—”

Another arrow raises from Wolf’s bow. “If I shoot, there’s no guarantee that you’ll be the one I hit. Do you want to risk your child’s life too?”

She raises her chin in defiance, tears streaming down her mask, but she says nothing more. Silently, she rises and joins the crowds headed toward the stables, her baby screaming in her trembling arms.

“What’s he up to?” Grouse whispers in Cyrus’s ear as she slinks closer to him.

“What are you still doing here?” Cyrus hisses, his wrists jerking when he feels Grouse’s fingers fumbling with the shackles. “Why did you go out to help the soldiers? You all should be running! Get out while Wolf is distracted!”

“We can’t leave you,” Bittern replies, stalking up from her vantage point in the shadows. “Goldeneye is stealing some horses while we get you free. Then we are running together. That’s as far as we have planned, but it will get us away from Wolf.”

“You planning to slip away?” Jackal inquires softly as he skulks out of the shadows, three heavy manacle cuff chains dangling from his hands. “I knew that coward you call Goldeneye was up to something.”

“We’re just checking on the prisoner,” Bittern explains gruffly, carefully examining Cyrus’s shoulder wound.

“Do you see him as a prisoner, or as a friend?” Jackal wonders, creeping closer to the trio, his eyes darting back and forth as he prepares to attack.

“Prisoner, of course. We side with Wolf’s pack,” Grouse replies, standing upright as she prepares to face off against Jackal. Before Jackal can attempt to entrap her in the manacles, Goldeneye appears beside Grouse, catching her around the middle and securing her against his chest.

“I heard you talking about me, Jackal,” Goldeneye quips, clenching his jaw as he growls, “Calling me a coward? Like you have any room to talk.” Goldeneye chuckles, wedging his body between Jackal and Grouse as he taunts, “If you knew even half as much as you think you do, then I’d be worried. As it is, we have nothing to fear from you.”

“What I know is that