23 - Throwing Caution to the Wind

A sudden bout of dizziness has me clutching the table to steady myself. "Fuck," I hiss. They know exactly where I am.

The werewolves are still staring at me, quiet and watchful. It hits me like a strike to the face. They're waiting on my orders. Without Rowan and the others here, they're expecting me to guide them. To lead them.

What good will fear be? Rowan's voice murmurs in my head; a gentle caress. That is not our way.

Orion would wrestle back control. He'd storm out and let his Haze guide him and he wouldn't care who got in his way as long as the threat was gone. So would Liliana and my mother. Esme would be right on their heels, eager and vengeful. Myles would grab a sword to make a spectacle and a fool of himself.

But I am not them.

I blow out a heavy breath, my gaze drifting over the werewolves. They're scared— just like I am. My family are closing in and one of their friends is dead.

Rowan and the others are off forging an alliance with Duskland, doing their part to make these woods safer. It's time I take a leaf out of his book and start doing things the compassionate way. He's a bad influence.

"Everything will be alright," I say, not entirely sure if I'm trying to convince them or myself. I toss the note onto the table and glare at it. "They're getting desperate and it's making them act without planning. We can use that. Make sure no one is patrolling alone— stay in groups of three or more and do not let your guard down, even if you're behind your own borders. Territory means nothing to them."

As the others nod and rush from the room, eager to support those wolves still out patrolling, Kay stays behind.

"Are you alright?" they ask, taking a tentative step forwards, brows pinching.

"Not really," I admit, rubbing at my temples.

Leaden understanding flickers behind their perceptive gaze. "I'm sorry about your family. No one should have to suffer like this."

"I'm sorry about Finn."

My family don't care who gets caught up in this feud between us. If they're going to cause chaos to get to me, it's only fair I make things right and stop them from hurting anyone else. This is between me and them, no one else.

It's my fault Rowan and his pack are suffering. I should have been more careful, covered my tracks, stayed underground until they gave up searching— no matter how long it took.

Rowan's pack trust me to keep them safe, and it stirs unpleasant memories. I can't ignore the chasm eating away at my chest. Esme needed my help on the night of the raid and I couldn't reach her in time. I convinced myself her death was the wolf's fault for biting her, but it was only retaliating. That pack wasn't hurting anyone when I shot that arrow and Esme threw that canister and we let hellfire rain down on them.

And now my family are forcing their way through werewolves — Duskland and Crescent Moon alike — to get to me. They won't stop until they have me.

I couldn't save Esme from her fate, and that failure will haunt me for the rest of my life. But perhaps I can save Rowan's pack from an untimely end at the hands of hunters who are only after one thing. Me.

"I need some air," I mutter, stalking past Kay and out into the hallway before they can respond or ask if I'm alright again. Absently, I check the blades at my waist. Nowhere near enough, but they are all I have. I'll make do.

My nerves buzz with little static shocks of dread and every breath I take feels shallow and empty. Like Rowan's parley, my own plan is reckless and foolish and nowhere near ready for execution, but I do not have any time left. No one else is dying because of me. I won't hide behind the walls of Rowan's family and wait for my own to fight their way to me.

As I emerge onto the porch, a cool breeze stirs around me and whisks leaves into little tornadoes. I take a deep, steadying breath and head for the woods.

It's strangely peaceful, with trees groaning and sighing and leaves whispering to one another and birds squawking on their branches beneath an overcast, bleak sky. I can almost pretend I'm merely out for some fresh air and not heading into an ambush. It's the right thing to do.

But I'm not going to bare my throat and wait for them to kill me. If I cannot kill them first, I'll learn all I can about their motives and their plans and I will find a way to get them away from Rowan's pack. Whatever it takes. He's out tackling his feud with Duskland, and I must deal with my family. Maybe I can offer a parley, come to an agreement. Maybe they'll be honourable enough to let me try.

Twigs snap and several wolves come trotting out of the underbrush, watching me warily. They yip tentatively and keep pace with me. Too close.

"Stay with your pack," I tell them, a harsh bite to my tone. They're only going to get themselves killed and besides, I cannot devote my focus to keeping anyone else safe when I'm willingly walking into the firing line. It'll take every shred of my attention to make it out of this alive.

They whine and falter, obeying my order, only to shake out their fur and catch up to me.

"No," I manage as realisation dawns. "I'm not— Just stay here. No one else is going to die for me."

This time, they fall still. Their golden eyes shimmer liquid heartache in a way vaguely reminiscent of a kicked puppy.

But they do as I ask and don't follow after me as I let the woods swallow me whole.

Time melts away as I stalk through the woods. I don't give myself chance to think. I only want to finish things— I don't want to live in fear waiting for them to catch up, or waiting for them to tear their way through the walls of Rowan's pack to get to me. I am a Ferreus hunter and I do not cower from a challenge— especially when it is offered so brazenly.

And so, when I emerge into a small clearing far away from the heart of Rowan's home, I falter, surveying the land. The steep hills of the valley lurch up to my left, and on my right, nestled between the canopies of trees, I can see the town below. I've found myself at a vantage point overlooking the place I thought I could call home.

This will do. Before fear can take hold and change my mind, I whistle a damning melody that echoes amidst the rustling trees and carries over the valley. Ready when you are.

It doesn't take long at all for a reply. But I don't get a whistle in return.

I get rustling and aimed crossbows and glinting silver knives as my family emerge from the shrubs; materialising from the shadows like a nightmare brought to life. Fuck, they're good at their job. Stalking prey is in their nature.

Seeing them and the blood splatters on their clothes hauls me right back to that horrible night. I think of the emotionless mask over their features as they damned my sister and told me to burn her with the rest of our enemies, and I realise they stare at me with those same empty eyes, as though I am nothing but an inconvenience.

I fight against the urge to fall back beneath their spearing attention and instead pluck two throwing blades from my belt, meeting their challenge.

Orion leads them on, as usual. He's all sharp edges and tensed muscles and piercing glares. He's got a knife brandished before him with lazy familiarity, as though it is a mere extension of himself and not a separate object. At his side, Liliana looks at me with eyes promising a long and painful end. She has a crossbow in her firm grip, trained on me. And then there's my mother, emerging from amongst the trees. There isn't a glint of recognition behind her eyes. There is nothing but dark, cold indifference as she aims a crossbow at my heart.

"Hello, River," she greets, the warmth to her tone foreign and false. "What a mess you've made of things."

Three against one. Even still, I don't like my chances. They aren't werewolves— they don't need numbers. All they need is their anger. Looking at them now, it's not difficult to imagine they've just killed and decapitated a werewolf.

"Is there anyone else, or is this it?" I ask, scanning the woods for more shadows that don't belong.

Liliana scoffs. "You think we'd bother the others for this? You see, they're out doing their jobs and killing werewolves— which is more than I can say for you. We're cleaning up the mess."

"How did you find me, anyway?" I ask, trying to stall them for as long as I can. That way, I can gauge their plan and counter with my own. I just have to think of one, first.

"In the end, all it took was a few questions to the right people. You should know that Ada sends her regards," my mother says. As I barely hold back a flinch at the mention of the kind old woman who helped me out, she carries on in a sickly sweet tone. "You see, our contacts in the police flagged up a report she'd made about a troubled young man matching your description. She wanted to check if you were alright, bless her, and she was very cooperative. There were reports of a car stolen in the area she last saw you— and the plates flagged up here, before you covered them up. Not fast enough, I'm afraid. I expected better from you."

She smiles, watching me keenly as I hold back any shred of discomfort from leaking onto my features with a visible effort.

And then Orion tucks his knife safely away at his side and crosses his arms. He smiles; a glinting dagger of an expression. "We can do this the easy way, or the fun way. Your choice."

"I'm not here to lie down and die," I cut back, scowling at them. "I'm here to talk, and that's it."

"As are we, dear boy. Put down your weapons or we'll shoot you just like we did to Esme."

I flinch and his smile stretches.

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? All the running and hiding— it's just your little protest because she was bitten. Come now, River, you know the rules as well as we do. There is no honour in being bitten."

"There's no honour in killing your own family."

"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Liliana sneers. She gestures to the ground with her crossbow. "Don't make us ask again."

I release a short breath, weigh up my options, and drop my blades onto the ground. Their stances do not ease— not until I've plucked every last throwing blade from my holster and tossed them into a pile, and not until I've taken the knife from my ankle and let it clatter uselessly before me.

Only then, my mother and Liliana lower their weapons. My aunt approaches with swift intention to kick my knives out of reach. The glare she cuts me is scathing.

"What is it you want to talk about, then?" Orion asks. "You've obviously called us here for a reason instead of hiding behind vermin."

"I want you to stop wasting time on these packs. They're feuding— they'll only run themselves into the ground. This is between us, wouldn't you agree?" I tell him, keeping my focus locked on Liliana.

She's tensed up, her eyes gleaming, and I do not trust her at all. Even when my weapons are out of reach, she does not fall back.

Orion hums, considering. "Go ahead, love."

In a blur, Liliana throws herself at me; a force of fury. I retaliate — more reflex than conscious thought — but it's like fighting a vengeful storm. There's no stopping her. The hilt of her crossbow connects solidly with my temple and clarity scatters. She wrestles the upper hand and shoves me to the mossy forest floor. Agony pulses through my head as she hauls me into a tight arm-lock with a precision and grace that would impress me under other circumstances. Right now, though, it's all I can do to try and shove her off. Unsuccessfully.

Abruptly, I've lost whatever semblance of control I had over the situation, and I realise that maybe this wasn't the smartest idea. So much for retribution.

As my mother trains her crossbow on me, Orion approaches and plucks his knife from its holster, tossing it in lazy spins. He crouches before me, tilts his head, and smiles. There's something empty about it. Something predatory.

"It's not the wolves we're after, but they'll make a nice trophy. In any case, it'll be a good training opportunity for you. You obviously need one."

I struggle against Liliana, but she's got me in an awkward position on my knees and every movement only drives her fury deeper. I'm at her mercy and she's running very low on reserves. Her fist drives into my kidney. A sharp agony has me falling still with a barely-stifled groan.

"We've been watching you for a while, keeping an eye on the situation. What hunter wouldn't be tempted by a town overrun with beasts? It's in your blood," my mother says, her gaze cold and dark, as though she's staring right through me. "At first, we only meant to kill you. A fair payment for what you did to Myles. And then we saw what you were up to. Stirring chaos in the midst of a werewolf rivalry. The police were all too happy to help us— with all the bodies showing up around town, they were grateful for our help."

"We thought— this kid's finally showing some promise," Orion forges on, using the tip of his silver knife beneath my chin to force my head up. "It's ingenious, tricking them into killing each other. A remarkable use of resources. I thought to myself— maybe I can forgive what you did to my boy. It was a big night, with a lot of emotions running high, so of course you'd snap."

"You shot my sister, you prick—"

"— But," he talks over me, pressing the knife harder against my neck and smiling when I wince and fall quiet, "that's not what you were up to, was it? One of the officers got in touch and said he'd seen you with the vermin. We checked it out and found you in the woods with your knife against their rival's throat, waiting on their orders. You weren't tricking anyone— you're actually helping them. It's disgusting. You've forgotten your place, and I think it's about time you find it again. I've got a proposition for you."

I go still and his smile stretches into a grin. He knows he's got me exactly where he wants me.

"It's simple, really. Kill the heart of this pack that's coddling you — the alpha werewolf — and you'll gain back your place in this family. We can let bad blood lie and move on together. A fresh slate. All you have to do is get close enough and kill him. It shouldn't be difficult for you. From what we've seen, he's taken a special liking to you. He'll let you get close."

"They're only using you, River," Liliana murmurs in my ear. "You cannot trust anyone but your family— you'll learn that soon enough. All they need from you is your silver and your obedience, and the second their rivals are dead, they will turn on you. Werewolves are warmongering vermin, always after a fight. You'll be a trophy on their wall if you don't kill them first. Let us help you take them all out."

I think of Rowan and his persistence, these past few days, to get a hunter on his side. Is it genuine, or has he realised my fractured mindset and melted right through my defences like hot wax? Even if he is sincere about helping me, will that alliance be enough against my family? The family proposing a way back into their ranks? Would I be a fool for trusting them again or a fool to turn my back and ignore the hand they're offering? I don't want to run and hide anymore. I want freedom above all else— and I don't know which path will lead to it.

"So what will it be?" my mother asks, kneeling beside Orion, a spark lighting behind her eyes— the first embers of a fire. "You're either with us or against us. Your choice."

My mind is made with surprising swiftness. My family have the resources and the frustration to take on both packs— and a few days ago, that was all I wanted. To live in peace. To get rid of the wolves and stop running.

And then a persistent, gentle alpha came along and took a sledgehammer to my ideals and my beliefs, leaving me broken and doubtful and terrified of the truth that werewolves aren't the monsters I was led to believe— well, not all of them. Every step he has taken since the alley where we met has been to ensure my safety. I looked into his eyes last night and saw nothing but sincerity. I look into Orion's gaze and I see the light of opportunity and not a flicker of genuine care. Maybe Rowan is playing the long game, maybe it is all a trap to lure me into helping, but it's nothing like the cage Orion is trying to force me into. I've shown Rowan time and time again that I do not trust him, that I will kill him if he tries anything, and yet he does not back down.

He let me into the heart of his home and let me control his pack. He's putting aside his rivalry with Duskland to give me numbers. To give me a chance.

I do not trust easily and yet, for better or for worse, I trust Rowan. I trusted him with my life in that clearing with Gale and he did not let me down. He has entrusted the safety of his pack — his family — with me, and I will not break that trust.

Especially not for the people who took Esme from me.

So I square my shoulders and meet Orion's hardened gaze with every shred of hostility I can muster. "How about a counter-proposal? Fuck off."

His lips twitch with a smile— cutting as the silver knife pressed to my throat. "I had a feeling you'd say that. You see, you're going to do exactly as we tell you either way, River. Of your own free will, or simply following your nature."

"If you want to kill me, stop wasting my time and do it," I cut back. "You haven't come all this way to threaten me to death, have you? I'd rather take the arrow."

"Don't you understand? We're not going to kill you. We're going to make sure you pay for what you did for Myles. And what better payment than fulfilling your destiny? Accepting your place in this world and your duty to kill werewolves. We don't need to kill the werewolves in this forsaken town— you're going to do that for us. You're overdue for your initiation, and we've got a ritual to bestow upon you."

Blood turns to ice in my veins. Thoughts stutter to a stop.

Oh fuck.

In a swift movement, Orion threads his fingers through my hair and wrenches my head back, pressing his knife against my throat. I struggle but his fury only drives deeper, and I fall still when warmth slides down my neck.

"What was it you carved into my boy? Si vis pacem, para bellum. Very poetic, I like it." As he speaks, silver melts over his eyes; an empty, cold mirror. The markings crawling up his neck flicker and shimmer as though a fire rages beneath his skin. His Haze is terrifying up close. "You see, I've got to do some carving of my own, now. I hope you like it."

"No," I manage, pushing myself back against Liliana's unyielding hold. "No, no—!" I find myself studying the treeline, desperately hoping that Rowan will storm in full of rage and determined like he did with Gale.

But the woods stay quiet. He's not coming.

"Don't fight your nature, River. Let it guide you," my mother says, some semblance of warmth finding its way into her voice even as the Haze overtakes her. "You will kill for your family. If you live, when the vermin are all dead, we will welcome you home."

Orion uses his knife to slash open my shirt, and he begins tracing the cool edge along my chest, following the interwoven roots of lichtenberg figures and runes emblazoned on my skin. Everywhere he traces, a trail of fire follows.

"Per fidem et familiam, per argentum et ferreus, in bestias sanguine scriptum erit legatum nostrum," Orion says, reverence coating his voice. "Hoc est officium tuum, River."

A strangled gasp rushes past my lips as a fire builds at my core; an impossible heat thrumming through my veins and ripping clarity apart. It has me arching against Liliana's hold as something deep within me cracks an eye open and prepares to yawn wide.

Images flicker through my head. Silver, empty eyes. Glowing lichtenberg figures. Knives and blood and fire and pain and death.

They're speaking. All of them. Repeating the words like some twisted mantra as Orion's knife traces the markings on my chest, over and over and over. The blaze in my blood builds and builds. It's as though molten silver flows through my veins— and I cannot escape it.

I can't breathe. Can't think. It's all I can do to cling onto the fraying thread of consciousness as a pain like nothing I've ever known rips me to shreds. A scorching light sears my vision. I can't hear anything except their voices, but I know I'm screaming. I can feel the vibrations tearing my throat.

Every inch of skin is ablaze. It burns all reason. Scalds my thoughts to ashes.

When at last they fall quiet, I surface from the fog and find myself crumpled on the ground, shuddering and weeping. There's a fire in my veins and I can barely summon the energy to push myself up on shaking arms.

Arms, I realise vaguely, that are glowing as though streaks of lightning zip through my blood.

As I stare in horror, the breath torn from my lungs, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"It is done," Orion says, his voice somewhere far away. "Return to your so-called allies and destroy them from within. They won't protect you, River. They'll try and kill you to save themselves, and you'll know you've only ever had us. We will wait for you."

Weakly, I lift my gaze and try to peer past the haze of agony. I watch as Liliana picks up her crossbow and aims it at me. She looks at my mother — only long enough to catch her nod — and then her attention, like the laser-point of a rifle, is back on me.

"This is for Myles," she says, her smile empty and her eyes on fire with fury.

The bolt burrows into my side with a wet thunk and an explosion of agony. I collapse to the ground with a barely-stifled yell, helped along by an unceremonious shove from Orion.

"Let's see how your friends get you out of this one, shall we?"

They turn and stalk into the woods, leaving me alone in the throes of pain and despair.