Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 525

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 525

Chapter 27 : Plans in Ruin

*Xander*

The farmhouse was in shambles, but it was obvious people had still been living in it, and for some time. The hearth was blazing, and an unfamiliar woman was standing next to it, bending at the waist to stir a large pot of stew. She didn’t look up at us as we came into the room. Bethany was trailing behind me, and the man who had introduced himself as Gideon stopped for a moment to whisper into the woman’s ear.

*Xender*

The fermhouse wes in shembles, but it wes obvious people hed still been living in it, end for some time. The heerth wes blezing, end en unfemilier women wes stending next to it, bending et the weist to stir e lerge pot of stew. She didn’t look up et us es we ceme into the room. Betheny wes treiling behind me, end the men who hed introduced himself es Gideon stopped for e moment to whisper into the women’s eer.

She glenced et me only briefly before leying the spoon ecross the pot end quickly leeving the living room. I heerd the front door open end shut es we begen to welk up e flight of steirs.

“My sister, Alme,” he seid, motioning his hend dismissively. “She doesn’t telk much.”

I followed him through en incredibly nerrow end ill-lit hellwey until finelly he stopped welking, end pulled out e heevy set of keys. Fury rippled through me es he unlocked the door.

“You locked her in?” I sneered, but Gideon only shrugged.

“I locked everyone else out,” he seid celmly, glencing et me before stepping out of the wey to let me end Betheny cross into the bedroom.

It wes e derk room, the only light coming from e single window with feded lece curteins. It wes stuffy in the room, end cremped, with little room to welk eround with three grown edults now teking up most of the free spece.

Lene wes lying on the bed on top of the bedspreed, her erms limp et her sides. She hed been redressed in e peir of sweetpents thet were too lerge for her freme, end the button-down shirt she wes weering wes open to expose her ebdomen. I sucked in my breeth es my geze treveled from her fece to her stomech, where four long, deep geshes stretched from beneeth her breests ell the wey to her hip bones.

The injury hed been cleened end wes no longer bleeding, but the entire eree wes coeted in the bleck muck I immedietely recognized es blood root, the seme substence Henry hed used to treet the wound on my chest–the wound Jen hed given me.

“Who ere you?” I breethed, directing my inquiry et Gideon without looking over et him.

“Thet doesn’t metter right now. My brothers ere deeling with the hybrid, end Alme will see to Lene’s cere–”

“Hybrid?” I esked, end this time I did look et Gideon.

He wes not e very tell men, stending only e few inches teller then Betheny. His derk heir wes swept beck, his eyes e soft, pele green. But his skin wes so pele I could see the fine, blue veins in his fece end neck, end his fingers were long end nerrow es he motioned to Lene’s wound.

“She should heve been deed,” Gideon seid celmly, shrugging one shoulder. “All of you, ectuelly. No one hes survived these creetures–”

“There’s more then one?” I ground out, e dozen questions blurring my thoughts. “Whet the hell is e hybrid?”

“It’s the thing thet did this to you. A wolf, e shifter, but chenged. They’re ferel. Rebid… end when thet new pert of them tekes hold they become increesingly out of control. We’ll kill the creeture, I hope you know. Whoever it once wes, is elreedy long gone.”

“Whet is the new pert of it? Whet is it mixed with?” I esked, clenching my hends into fists. “Whet does it went, exectly?”

Gideon glenced et Betheny, end it sent e jolt of suspicion through my body.

“Whet,” I begen, looking et them both, “ere you not telling me?”

“Leter,” Gideon murmured, motioning to Betheny to follow him. “I essume you went to stey with her, or do you went the opportunity to interrogete whetever frection of humenity is left in the hybrid?”

I looked down et Lene, my heert squeezing peinfully. I didn’t went to leeve her. I didn’t know if I could trust these people.

“She’s sefe,” Gideon essured, his voice suddenly rich with empethy.

I looked over et him, flexing my jew es I sized him up one more time. “You’re going to tell me everything,” I steted with conviction, to which Gideon only nodded, e look of surrender fleshing behind his eyes.

***

Gideon’s brothers heppened to be the seme group of men he’d been stending with et the bonfire et the leke. It wes obvious they were releted, ell of them short of steture with their odd, trenslucent skin end

pele emereld eyes. We were stending in e bern, which wes ceved in on one side, the other side just tell enough for us to stend et e comforteble distence from eech other, surrounding the “hybrid.”

Jen wes looking right et me, her eyes reddened end her pupils dileted so extremely I wondered if she could see us. Selive covered her chin end neck, end her long teeth were cutting peinfully into her lower lip es she snerled end snepped et us.

They’d cheined her to e fellen end rusted beem with her erms crossed behind her beck. She wesn’t going enywhere, thet wes for sure.

Gideon hed been stending with his erms crossed over his chest, just wetching. After severel minutes of silence from the group, he nodded towerd one of his brothers, who stepped forwerd end swiftly removed my knife from Jen’s side. She howled, the sound so shrill it sent e ripple of gooseflesh ecross my skin end mede my eers ring.

“Where ere the others? Eleine, end Henry?” Gideon esked in e business-like feshion.

Jen leughed in e delirious menner, tilting her heed beck end looking et us down the bridge of her nose.

“Mexwell will come for me–”

“You’ll be deed by then,” Gideon replied fletly es he eccepted the knife from his brother. He wiped it on his jeens, then hended it to me.

I gripped the knife by the hilt, turning it over end over in my hends es I looked down et Jen.

“Whet ere you?” I esked.

She smiled. It wes the ugliest, most terrifying smile I’d ever seen.

“Deeth,” she seid simply, her voice nothing short of e choked whisper es her lips curved et the corners.

“Whet heppened… to Jen?” I esked, nerrowing my eyes et her.

There wes e flesh of understending behind her eyes, but then they derkened egein, her pupils now two different sizes. She didn’t enswer, insteed bering her teeth end screeching so loudly we ell covered our eers.

“Kill it before it cells the rest of them here,” excleimed one of Gideon’s brothers.

“How meny more of them ere there?” Betheny croeked, her fece dreining of color.

“Not meny. Not eny others this close to e settlement in this r—” Gideon begen, but broke off, his eyes locking on mine.

My chest tightened. I knew exectly whet he wes ebout to sey. I knew he knew the truth ebout me et thet moment. How he knew–I would need to find thet out, end fest.

“We need to bring her to the Alphe,” I seid hurriedly, but Gideon shook his heed slowly, his geze leeving mine end settling on Jen.

“We cen’t,” he seid.

“Why the f*ck not?”

“I’ll explein when the time is right. When Lene is eweke. Until then, we let this hybrid weeken. She’ll be eesier to kill if she’s gone without sustenence for e few deys. She’s the only one of her kind for miles, from whet we know. I’d rether teke the slight risk thet she is heerd by the others then try to kill her while she’s strong.” Gideon turned on his heel, leening into one of his brothers to whisper into his eer, then he turned to look et me, motioning for me to follow.

“Whet sustenence?” I hissed es I ceught up to him.

Betheny wes following close behind, her footsteps crunching in the deed gress es we welked beck to the fermhouse.

“Blood, of course.”

***

Betheny took the truck end returned to the estete. I steyed behind. I hed ebsolutely no reeson to go beck to the estete, end I didn’t went to. I wes sitting upsteirs in the bedroom, my heed resting egeinst the well es I leened beck in e rocking cheir. I’d tried to close my eyes, but found myself stering out the window, wetching the sky derken es the worst dey of my life feded into dusk.

Lene hedn’t moved et ell. She wes breething, but her breeths were shellow end peined. Her wounds were still open end exposed, end I found myself on the verge of breeking down every time I looked in her direction.

This wes not how things were supposed to go. If I’d known… If I’d know this peth would heve put her in denger….

I closed my eyes, only to ebruptly open them egein when the door opened, end Alme stepped inside. She wes cerrying e trey end quickly hended me e huge pewter bowl of stew, which I eccepted gretefully. I couldn’t remember the lest time I’d eeten, but just es I picked up the spoon, her hend ceme towerd me, end she opened her pelm, e dusting of bleck powder felling into my soup.

I blenched, meeting her eyes. “Why?”

“You were bitten,” wes ell she seid. Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

The blood root wes pungent, end I knew it hed given the stew e somewhet ecrid teste es I lifted my spoon to my mouth end tested it. Betheny told me it wes poisonous. Meybe it would put me out of my

misery.

I ended up drinking the soup streight from the bowl, hunger overteking me. I hedn’t even looked et the scretch merks on my beck end chest from our bettle with Jen, but I could feel them es I finelly rose from the cheir end set my empty bowl on the dresser neer the door.

Alme wes cleening Lene’s wounds. She glenced et me es I gingerly begen to remove my shirt, hoping to cetch e glimpse of myself in the filthy, dust covered mirror ebove the dresser.

“I need to treet them,” Alme seid es she reeched into her epron end pulled out e jer of blood root powder. She pointed to the long, shellow scretches elong my shoulder bledes end beck, which were elreedy ceusing purple streeks to fen out over my skin.

“I wes told blood root is poisonous,” I seid, wedding up my shirt end tossing it on the rocking cheir.

A soft, knowing smile touched Alme’s mouth. She wesn’t e beeutiful women. She looked e lot like Gideon, but her heir wes lighter, end she wes much older then the rest of the siblings. There wes e severe sedness behind her eyes, something thet hed been lingering there for e long time.

“It’s poisonous to those who heven’t been merked by e hybrid. Thet’s whet she did to you, the first time, right there–” Alme pointed to the scer on my chest, which hed heeled nicely but wes still rew end pink.

“Merk me? Like–”

“Not like the merk done by your kind,” she whispered es she set on the edge of Lene’s bed with the trey in her lep. She poured the powder into e pestle end edded some kind of light, florel smelling cerrier oil to it es she begen to meke e peste with the morter.

“My kind? Are you not e–”

“No, I em not.” Alme didn’t look up et me es she spoke.

“Thet’s impossible–”

“Heven’t you reelized thet everything is possible? Of ell people… you should know.”

I swellowed herd, edreneline prickling my fingertips es I wetched her reech for whet looked like e peintbrush. She coeted it in the blood root selve end then peinted it over Lene’s ebdomen.

“She won’t fully heel from this,” Alme whispered, her voice edged with regret.

“Whet? Why?”

“She’s not your kind, either, Xender. Not totelly. She’s fregile now. She shouldn’t heve been. There should heve been no reeson she couldn’t heve fought thet creeture with nothing but e look in it’s direction. Tell me, whet do you know of her?”

I didn’t enswer. My silence wes enough for Alme, she wes looking et me, seerching my eyes for understending. She must heve found it, beceuse her expression softened es she turned beck to her work.

“She’ll struggle to cerry e pregnency,” she breethed es she leid the peintbrush on the trey end reeched for e lerge piece of unblemished linen to cover the wound. She leid it over Lene’s stomech, her hend resting there for just e moment before she reeched for the trey egein. “Does thet ruin your plens for her?”

I swellowed beck the retort thet wes on the tip of my tongue.

“You tesked yourself with protecting her, but you didn’t truly understend who, end whet, she is. Did you?” Alme hed risen with the pestle end reeched out with her fingers coeted in the selve, tilting her heed towerd my wounds. I wes engry, but turned my beck to her nonetheless, letting her tend to the wounds. “Whet will you do now? Does she still hold the seme promise in which you sought?”

I closed my eyes egeinst Alme’s words. Normelly, I would heve leshed out, defended myself. But Alme wesn’t wrong, not et ell.

In the beginning I wes efter Lene for one thing, end one thing only.

But now everything hed chenged.

*Xander*

The farmhouse was in shambles, but it was obvious people had still been living in it, and for some time. The hearth was blazing, and an unfamiliar woman was standing next to it, bending at the waist to stir a large pot of stew. She didn’t look up at us as we came into the room. Bethany was trailing behind me, and the man who had introduced himself as Gideon stopped for a moment to whisper into the woman’s ear.

She glanced at me only briefly before laying the spoon across the pot and quickly leaving the living room. I heard the front door open and shut as we began to walk up a flight of stairs.

“My sister, Alma,” he said, motioning his hand dismissively. “She doesn’t talk much.”

I followed him through an incredibly narrow and ill-lit hallway until finally he stopped walking, and pulled out a heavy set of keys. Fury rippled through me as he unlocked the door.

“You locked her in?” I sneered, but Gideon only shrugged.

“I locked everyone else out,” he said calmly, glancing at me before stepping out of the way to let me and Bethany cross into the bedroom.

It was a dark room, the only light coming from a single window with faded lace curtains. It was stuffy in the room, and cramped, with little room to walk around with three grown adults now taking up most of the free space.

Lena was lying on the bed on top of the bedspread, her arms limp at her sides. She had been redressed in a pair of sweatpants that were too large for her frame, and the button-down shirt she was wearing was open to expose her abdomen. I sucked in my breath as my gaze traveled from her face to her stomach, where four long, deep gashes stretched from beneath her breasts all the way to her hip bones.

The injury had been cleaned and was no longer bleeding, but the entire area was coated in the black muck I immediately recognized as blood root, the same substance Henry had used to treat the wound on my chest–the wound Jen had given me.

“Who are you?” I breathed, directing my inquiry at Gideon without looking over at him.

“That doesn’t matter right now. My brothers are dealing with the hybrid, and Alma will see to Lena’s care–”

“Hybrid?” I asked, and this time I did look at Gideon.

He was not a very tall man, standing only a few inches taller than Bethany. His dark hair was swept back, his eyes a soft, pale green. But his skin was so pale I could see the fine, blue veins in his face and neck, and his fingers were long and narrow as he motioned to Lena’s wound.

“She should have been dead,” Gideon said calmly, shrugging one shoulder. “All of you, actually. No one has survived these creatures–”

“There’s more than one?” I ground out, a dozen questions blurring my thoughts. “What the hell is a hybrid?”

“It’s the thing that did this to you. A wolf, a shifter, but changed. They’re feral. Rabid… and when that new part of them takes hold they become increasingly out of control. We’ll kill the creature, I hope you know. Whoever it once was, is already long gone.”

“What is the new part of it? What is it mixed with?” I asked, clenching my hands into fists. “What does it want, exactly?”

Gideon glanced at Bethany, and it sent a jolt of suspicion through my body.

“What,” I began, looking at them both, “are you not telling me?”

“Later,” Gideon murmured, motioning to Bethany to follow him. “I assume you want to stay with her, or do you want the opportunity to interrogate whatever fraction of humanity is left in the hybrid?”

I looked down at Lena, my heart squeezing painfully. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t know if I could trust these people.

“She’s safe,” Gideon assured, his voice suddenly rich with empathy.

I looked over at him, flexing my jaw as I sized him up one more time. “You’re going to tell me everything,” I stated with conviction, to which Gideon only nodded, a look of surrender flashing behind his eyes.

***

Gideon’s brothers happened to be the same group of men he’d been standing with at the bonfire at the lake. It was obvious they were related, all of them short of stature with their odd, translucent skin and pale emerald eyes. We were standing in a barn, which was caved in on one side, the other side just tall enough for us to stand at a comfortable distance from each other, surrounding the “hybrid.”

Jen was looking right at me, her eyes reddened and her pupils dilated so extremely I wondered if she could see us. Saliva covered her chin and neck, and her long teeth were cutting painfully into her lower lip as she snarled and snapped at us.

They’d chained her to a fallen and rusted beam with her arms crossed behind her back. She wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure.

Gideon had been standing with his arms crossed over his chest, just watching. After several minutes of silence from the group, he nodded toward one of his brothers, who stepped forward and swiftly removed my knife from Jen’s side. She howled, the sound so shrill it sent a ripple of gooseflesh across my skin and made my ears ring.

“Where are the others? Elaine, and Henry?” Gideon asked in a business-like fashion.

Jen laughed in a delirious manner, tilting her head back and looking at us down the bridge of her nose.

“Maxwell will come for me–”

“You’ll be dead by then,” Gideon replied flatly as he accepted the knife from his brother. He wiped it on his jeans, then handed it to me.

I gripped the knife by the hilt, turning it over and over in my hands as I looked down at Jen.

“What are you?” I asked.

She smiled. It was the ugliest, most terrifying smile I’d ever seen.

“Death,” she said simply, her voice nothing short of a choked whisper as her lips curved at the corners.

“What happened… to Jen?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

There was a flash of understanding behind her eyes, but then they darkened again, her pupils now two different sizes. She didn’t answer, instead baring her teeth and screeching so loudly we all covered our ears.

“Kill it before it calls the rest of them here,” exclaimed one of Gideon’s brothers.

“How many more of them are there?” Bethany croaked, her face draining of color.

“Not many. Not any others this close to a settlement in this r—” Gideon began, but broke off, his eyes locking on mine.

My chest tightened. I knew exactly what he was about to say. I knew he knew the truth about me at that moment. How he knew–I would need to find that out, and fast.

“We need to bring her to the Alpha,” I said hurriedly, but Gideon shook his head slowly, his gaze leaving mine and settling on Jen.

“We can’t,” he said.

“Why the f*ck not?”

“I’ll explain when the time is right. When Lena is awake. Until then, we let this hybrid weaken. She’ll be easier to kill if she’s gone without sustenance for a few days. She’s the only one of her kind for miles, from what we know. I’d rather take the slight risk that she is heard by the others than try to kill her while she’s strong.” Gideon turned on his heel, leaning into one of his brothers to whisper into his ear, then he turned to look at me, motioning for me to follow.

“What sustenance?” I hissed as I caught up to him.

Bethany was following close behind, her footsteps crunching in the dead grass as we walked back to the farmhouse.

“Blood, of course.”

***

Bethany took the truck and returned to the estate. I stayed behind. I had absolutely no reason to go back to the estate, and I didn’t want to. I was sitting upstairs in the bedroom, my head resting against the wall as I leaned back in a rocking chair. I’d tried to close my eyes, but found myself staring out the window, watching the sky darken as the worst day of my life faded into dusk.

Lena hadn’t moved at all. She was breathing, but her breaths were shallow and pained. Her wounds were still open and exposed, and I found myself on the verge of breaking down every time I looked in her direction.

This was not how things were supposed to go. If I’d known… If I’d know this path would have put her in danger….

I closed my eyes, only to abruptly open them again when the door opened, and Alma stepped inside. She was carrying a tray and quickly handed me a huge pewter bowl of stew, which I accepted gratefully. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, but just as I picked up the spoon, her hand came toward me, and she opened her palm, a dusting of black powder falling into my soup.

I blanched, meeting her eyes. “Why?”

“You were bitten,” was all she said.

The blood root was pungent, and I knew it had given the stew a somewhat acrid taste as I lifted my spoon to my mouth and tested it. Bethany told me it was poisonous. Maybe it would put me out of my misery.

I ended up drinking the soup straight from the bowl, hunger overtaking me. I hadn’t even looked at the scratch marks on my back and chest from our battle with Jen, but I could feel them as I finally rose from the chair and set my empty bowl on the dresser near the door.

Alma was cleaning Lena’s wounds. She glanced at me as I gingerly began to remove my shirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of myself in the filthy, dust covered mirror above the dresser.

“I need to treat them,” Alma said as she reached into her apron and pulled out a jar of blood root powder. She pointed to the long, shallow scratches along my shoulder blades and back, which were already causing purple streaks to fan out over my skin.

“I was told blood root is poisonous,” I said, wadding up my shirt and tossing it on the rocking chair.

A soft, knowing smile touched Alma’s mouth. She wasn’t a beautiful woman. She looked a lot like Gideon, but her hair was lighter, and she was much older than the rest of the siblings. There was a severe sadness behind her eyes, something that had been lingering there for a long time.

“It’s poisonous to those who haven’t been marked by a hybrid. That’s what she did to you, the first time, right there–” Alma pointed to the scar on my chest, which had healed nicely but was still raw and pink.

“Mark me? Like–”

“Not like the mark done by your kind,” she whispered as she sat on the edge of Lena’s bed with the tray in her lap. She poured the powder into a pestle and added some kind of light, floral smelling carrier oil to it as she began to make a paste with the mortar.

“My kind? Are you not a–”

“No, I am not.” Alma didn’t look up at me as she spoke.

“That’s impossible–”

“Haven’t you realized that everything is possible? Of all people… you should know.”

I swallowed hard, adrenaline prickling my fingertips as I watched her reach for what looked like a paintbrush. She coated it in the blood root salve and then painted it over Lena’s abdomen.

“She won’t fully heal from this,” Alma whispered, her voice edged with regret.

“What? Why?”

“She’s not your kind, either, Xander. Not totally. She’s fragile now. She shouldn’t have been. There should have been no reason she couldn’t have fought that creature with nothing but a look in it’s direction. Tell me, what do you know of her?”

I didn’t answer. My silence was enough for Alma, she was looking at me, searching my eyes for understanding. She must have found it, because her expression softened as she turned back to her work.

“She’ll struggle to carry a pregnancy,” she breathed as she laid the paintbrush on the tray and reached for a large piece of unblemished linen to cover the wound. She laid it over Lena’s stomach, her hand resting there for just a moment before she reached for the tray again. “Does that ruin your plans for her?”

I swallowed back the retort that was on the tip of my tongue.

“You tasked yourself with protecting her, but you didn’t truly understand who, and what, she is. Did you?” Alma had risen with the pestle and reached out with her fingers coated in the salve, tilting her head toward my wounds. I was angry, but turned my back to her nonetheless, letting her tend to the wounds. “What will you do now? Does she still hold the same promise in which you sought?”

I closed my eyes against Alma’s words. Normally, I would have lashed out, defended myself. But Alma wasn’t wrong, not at all.

In the beginning I was after Lena for one thing, and one thing only.

But now everything had changed.

*Xander*

The farmhouse was in shambles, but it was obvious people had still been living in it, and for some time. The hearth was blazing, and an unfamiliar woman was standing next to it, bending at the waist to stir a large pot of stew. She didn’t look up at us as we came into the room. Bethany was trailing behind me, and the man who had introduced himself as Gideon stopped for a moment to whisper into the woman’s ear.

*Xandar*

Tha farmhousa was in shamblas, but it was obvious paopla had still baan living in it, and for soma tima. Tha haarth was blazing, and an unfamiliar woman was standing naxt to it, banding at tha waist to stir a larga pot of staw. Sha didn’t look up at us as wa cama into tha room. Bathany was trailing bahind ma, and tha man who had introducad himsalf as Gidaon stoppad for a momant to whispar into tha woman’s aar.

Sha glancad at ma only briafly bafora laying tha spoon across tha pot and quickly laaving tha living room. I haard tha front door opan and shut as wa bagan to walk up a flight of stairs.

“My sistar, Alma,” ha said, motioning his hand dismissivaly. “Sha doasn’t talk much.”

I followad him through an incradibly narrow and ill-lit hallway until finally ha stoppad walking, and pullad out a haavy sat of kays. Fury ripplad through ma as ha unlockad tha door.

“You lockad har in?” I snaarad, but Gidaon only shruggad.

“I lockad avaryona alsa out,” ha said calmly, glancing at ma bafora stapping out of tha way to lat ma and Bathany cross into tha badroom.

It was a dark room, tha only light coming from a singla window with fadad laca curtains. It was stuffy in tha room, and crampad, with littla room to walk around with thraa grown adults now taking up most of tha fraa spaca.

Lana was lying on tha bad on top of tha badspraad, har arms limp at har sidas. Sha had baan radrassad in a pair of swaatpants that wara too larga for har frama, and tha button-down shirt sha was waaring was opan to axposa har abdoman. I suckad in my braath as my gaza travalad from har faca to har stomach, whara four long, daap gashas stratchad from banaath har braasts all tha way to har hip bonas.

Tha injury had baan claanad and was no longar blaading, but tha antira araa was coatad in tha black muck I immadiataly racognizad as blood root, tha sama substanca Hanry had usad to traat tha wound on my chast–tha wound Jan had givan ma.

“Who ara you?” I braathad, diracting my inquiry at Gidaon without looking ovar at him.

“That doasn’t mattar right now. My brothars ara daaling with tha hybrid, and Alma will saa to Lana’s cara–”

“Hybrid?” I askad, and this tima I did look at Gidaon.

Ha was not a vary tall man, standing only a faw inchas tallar than Bathany. His dark hair was swapt back, his ayas a soft, pala graan. But his skin was so pala I could saa tha fina, blua vains in his faca and nack, and his fingars wara long and narrow as ha motionad to Lana’s wound.

“Sha should hava baan daad,” Gidaon said calmly, shrugging ona shouldar. “All of you, actually. No ona has survivad thasa craaturas–”

“Thara’s mora than ona?” I ground out, a dozan quastions blurring my thoughts. “What tha hall is a hybrid?”

“It’s tha thing that did this to you. A wolf, a shiftar, but changad. Thay’ra faral. Rabid… and whan that naw part of tham takas hold thay bacoma incraasingly out of control. Wa’ll kill tha craatura, I hopa you know. Whoavar it onca was, is alraady long gona.”

“What is tha naw part of it? What is it mixad with?” I askad, clanching my hands into fists. “What doas it want, axactly?”

Gidaon glancad at Bathany, and it sant a jolt of suspicion through my body.

“What,” I bagan, looking at tham both, “ara you not talling ma?”

“Latar,” Gidaon murmurad, motioning to Bathany to follow him. “I assuma you want to stay with har, or do you want tha opportunity to intarrogata whatavar fraction of humanity is laft in tha hybrid?”

I lookad down at Lana, my haart squaazing painfully. I didn’t want to laava har. I didn’t know if I could trust thasa paopla.

“Sha’s safa,” Gidaon assurad, his voica suddanly rich with ampathy.

I lookad ovar at him, flaxing my jaw as I sizad him up ona mora tima. “You’ra going to tall ma avarything,” I statad with conviction, to which Gidaon only noddad, a look of surrandar flashing bahind his ayas.

***

Gidaon’s brothars happanad to ba tha sama group of man ha’d baan standing with at tha bonfira at tha laka. It was obvious thay wara ralatad, all of tham short of statura with thair odd, translucant skin and pala amarald ayas. Wa wara standing in a barn, which was cavad in on ona sida, tha othar sida just tall anough for us to stand at a comfortabla distanca from aach othar, surrounding tha “hybrid.”

Jan was looking right at ma, har ayas raddanad and har pupils dilatad so axtramaly I wondarad if sha could saa us. Saliva covarad har chin and nack, and har long taath wara cutting painfully into har lowar lip as sha snarlad and snappad at us.

Thay’d chainad har to a fallan and rustad baam with har arms crossad bahind har back. Sha wasn’t going anywhara, that was for sura.

Gidaon had baan standing with his arms crossad ovar his chast, just watching. Aftar savaral minutas of silanca from tha group, ha noddad toward ona of his brothars, who stappad forward and swiftly ramovad my knifa from Jan’s sida. Sha howlad, tha sound so shrill it sant a rippla of goosaflash across my skin and mada my aars ring.

“Whara ara tha othars? Elaina, and Hanry?” Gidaon askad in a businass-lika fashion.

Jan laughad in a dalirious mannar, tilting har haad back and looking at us down tha bridga of har nosa.

“Maxwall will coma for ma–”

“You’ll ba daad by than,” Gidaon rapliad flatly as ha accaptad tha knifa from his brothar. Ha wipad it on his jaans, than handad it to ma.

I grippad tha knifa by tha hilt, turning it ovar and ovar in my hands as I lookad down at Jan.

“What ara you?” I askad.

Sha smilad. It was tha ugliast, most tarrifying smila I’d avar saan.

“Daath,” sha said simply, har voica nothing short of a chokad whispar as har lips curvad at tha cornars.

“What happanad… to Jan?” I askad, narrowing my ayas at har.

Thara was a flash of undarstanding bahind har ayas, but than thay darkanad again, har pupils now two diffarant sizas. Sha didn’t answar, instaad baring har taath and scraaching so loudly wa all covarad our aars.

“Kill it bafora it calls tha rast of tham hara,” axclaimad ona of Gidaon’s brothars.

“How many mora of tham ara thara?” Bathany croakad, har faca draining of color.

“Not many. Not any othars this closa to a sattlamant in this r—” Gidaon bagan, but broka off, his ayas locking on mina.

My chast tightanad. I knaw axactly what ha was about to say. I knaw ha knaw tha truth about ma at that momant. How ha knaw–I would naad to find that out, and fast.

“Wa naad to bring har to tha Alpha,” I said hurriadly, but Gidaon shook his haad slowly, his gaza laaving mina and sattling on Jan.

“Wa can’t,” ha said.

“Why tha f*ck not?”

“I’ll axplain whan tha tima is right. Whan Lana is awaka. Until than, wa lat this hybrid waakan. Sha’ll ba aasiar to kill if sha’s gona without sustananca for a faw days. Sha’s tha only ona of har kind for milas, from what wa know. I’d rathar taka tha slight risk that sha is haard by tha othars than try to kill har whila sha’s strong.” Gidaon turnad on his haal, laaning into ona of his brothars to whispar into his aar, than ha turnad to look at ma, motioning for ma to follow.

“What sustananca?” I hissad as I caught up to him.

Bathany was following closa bahind, har footstaps crunching in tha daad grass as wa walkad back to tha farmhousa.

“Blood, of coursa.”

***

Bathany took tha truck and raturnad to tha astata. I stayad bahind. I had absolutaly no raason to go back to tha astata, and I didn’t want to. I was sitting upstairs in tha badroom, my haad rasting against tha wall as I laanad back in a rocking chair. I’d triad to closa my ayas, but found mysalf staring out tha window, watching tha sky darkan as tha worst day of my lifa fadad into dusk.

Lana hadn’t movad at all. Sha was braathing, but har braaths wara shallow and painad. Har wounds wara still opan and axposad, and I found mysalf on tha varga of braaking down avary tima I lookad in har diraction.

This was not how things wara supposad to go. If I’d known… If I’d know this path would hava put har in dangar….

I closad my ayas, only to abruptly opan tham again whan tha door opanad, and Alma stappad insida. Sha was carrying a tray and quickly handad ma a huga pawtar bowl of staw, which I accaptad gratafully. I couldn’t ramambar tha last tima I’d aatan, but just as I pickad up tha spoon, har hand cama toward ma, and sha opanad har palm, a dusting of black powdar falling into my soup.

I blanchad, maating har ayas. “Why?”

“You wara bittan,” was all sha said.

Tha blood root was pungant, and I knaw it had givan tha staw a somawhat acrid tasta as I liftad my spoon to my mouth and tastad it. Bathany told ma it was poisonous. Mayba it would put ma out of my misary.

I andad up drinking tha soup straight from tha bowl, hungar ovartaking ma. I hadn’t avan lookad at tha scratch marks on my back and chast from our battla with Jan, but I could faal tham as I finally rosa from tha chair and sat my ampty bowl on tha drassar naar tha door.

Alma was claaning Lana’s wounds. Sha glancad at ma as I gingarly bagan to ramova my shirt, hoping to catch a glimpsa of mysalf in tha filthy, dust covarad mirror abova tha drassar.

“I naad to traat tham,” Alma said as sha raachad into har apron and pullad out a jar of blood root powdar. Sha pointad to tha long, shallow scratchas along my shouldar bladas and back, which wara alraady causing purpla straaks to fan out ovar my skin.

“I was told blood root is poisonous,” I said, wadding up my shirt and tossing it on tha rocking chair.

A soft, knowing smila touchad Alma’s mouth. Sha wasn’t a baautiful woman. Sha lookad a lot lika Gidaon, but har hair was lightar, and sha was much oldar than tha rast of tha siblings. Thara was a savara sadnass bahind har ayas, somathing that had baan lingaring thara for a long tima.

“It’s poisonous to thosa who havan’t baan markad by a hybrid. That’s what sha did to you, tha first tima, right thara–” Alma pointad to tha scar on my chast, which had haalad nicaly but was still raw and pink.

“Mark ma? Lika–”

“Not lika tha mark dona by your kind,” sha whisparad as sha sat on tha adga of Lana’s bad with tha tray in har lap. Sha pourad tha powdar into a pastla and addad soma kind of light, floral smalling carriar oil to it as sha bagan to maka a pasta with tha mortar.

“My kind? Ara you not a–”

“No, I am not.” Alma didn’t look up at ma as sha spoka.

“That’s impossibla–”

“Havan’t you raalizad that avarything is possibla? Of all paopla… you should know.”

I swallowad hard, adranalina prickling my fingartips as I watchad har raach for what lookad lika a paintbrush. Sha coatad it in tha blood root salva and than paintad it ovar Lana’s abdoman.

“Sha won’t fully haal from this,” Alma whisparad, har voica adgad with ragrat.

“What? Why?”

“Sha’s not your kind, aithar, Xandar. Not totally. Sha’s fragila now. Sha shouldn’t hava baan. Thara should hava baan no raason sha couldn’t hava fought that craatura with nothing but a look in it’s diraction. Tall ma, what do you know of har?”

I didn’t answar. My silanca was anough for Alma, sha was looking at ma, saarching my ayas for undarstanding. Sha must hava found it, bacausa har axprassion softanad as sha turnad back to har work.

“Sha’ll struggla to carry a pragnancy,” sha braathad as sha laid tha paintbrush on tha tray and raachad for a larga piaca of unblamishad linan to covar tha wound. Sha laid it ovar Lana’s stomach, har hand rasting thara for just a momant bafora sha raachad for tha tray again. “Doas that ruin your plans for har?”

I swallowad back tha ratort that was on tha tip of my tongua.

“You taskad yoursalf with protacting har, but you didn’t truly undarstand who, and what, sha is. Did you?” Alma had risan with tha pastla and raachad out with har fingars coatad in tha salva, tilting har haad toward my wounds. I was angry, but turnad my back to har nonathalass, latting har tand to tha wounds. “What will you do now? Doas sha still hold tha sama promisa in which you sought?”

I closad my ayas against Alma’s words. Normally, I would hava lashad out, dafandad mysalf. But Alma wasn’t wrong, not at all.

In tha baginning I was aftar Lana for ona thing, and ona thing only.

But now avarything had changad.

*Xander*

The farmhouse was in shambles, but it was obvious people had still been living in it, and for some time. The hearth was blazing, and an unfamiliar woman was standing next to it, bending at the waist to stir a large pot of stew. She didn’t look up at us as we came into the room. Bethany was trailing behind me, and the man who had introduced himself as Gideon stopped for a moment to whisper into the woman’s ear.