The Pack Girl's Retribution (Sequel to The Pack's Girl)

Infuriated

Vanquish straightened. Not looking away from me as he twitched his grip and snapped the spear into two sharp pieces.

He adjusted to put one in each hand and confront whoever came at him next. His head whipped and he lowered into a crouch. Ready for battle.

And suddenly I was really, really, hoping that fighting all of them wore him out before he got to me.

Just beyond him was Racer and Hunter. Fighting furiously.

They were all going to be angry.

I was going to pay.

But more importantly... They're here.

My mates were as much wild fury as the mages had been alone. Together, we were unstoppable. Blood splattered and splashed, and somehow, I managed to keep it together.

A fact which I was rather proud of.

Wolves fell all around us. Many at the tip of my own dagger.

One man tried to punch me, but Racer came from nowhere to shove the fist aside. Catching the man's shoulders as he ran by. Twisting him away from me and then spinning to throw him to the ground before he could react.

That was the one thing that made Racer stand out.

He's unbelievably fast.

The only one that comes close to outrunning Draven.

And the Asara Alpha was capable of unprecedented speed.

Jonathan was nothing to scoff at either. I quickly learned why he'd been the target of the NightHunters tormenting.

He's a warrior.

Armed only with some slimmed branches, he wielded them like double clubs. He was small and wiry and surely not of impressive stature. But he was able to swing the branches as if they were designed to knock an enemy into the next village.

When he hit someone with one of them it emitted a thunk that seemed to echo through the trees.

Surely other NightHunter villages will know we're coming. I grimaced at that realization. Hoping that our ruckus wouldn't summon reinforcements.

Soon there was only the wolves that stood at the border of the camp. Looking like they had no intention of confronting us.

I was readying to attack them. Seeing they were bloodied and disheveled, I suddenly saw what Vanquish saw.

We're a dying breed.

Precious few since the plagues.

And we had just murdered a great number of our own kind. But these frail men and women at the edge of the camp looked nearly starved and hadn't budged to pick up armaments all the while we were fighting.

They're not NightHunters.

They were just villagers before they'd been raided and taken over.

They looked helpless and resigned.

I could imagine the things they were thinking.

They'd barely survived the raid by the NightHunters.

Probably lost those they loved.

They'd fought to live and now we were here.

And they face the threat of being slaughtered yet again.

And this time there was no fight left in them.

That was the only thing I couldn't understand.

Even when I'd been a meek she-wolf, hiding under a giant cloak I had been fighting to understand who I was. And resisting the things they made me feel.