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Raised by Wolves(55)

By:Jennifer Lynn Barnes


“Doc said you did a lot of healing while you were unconscious,” Ali told me. “You’re still banged up, but your pupils aren’t dilated, and he said that unless there were signs of a head injury, you should be fine to travel.”

Travel.



As in leave.

Leave our home.

Leave our family.

Leave the pack.

“Ali, we can’t go.”

She turned around and walked toward the door. At first, I thought she was going to walk out without answering me at all, but instead, she spoke in a tight, strangled voice that made me wonder if she’d turned around because she didn’t trust herself to maintain steely control over the muscles in her face.

“They beat you, Bryn. Callum beat you. He had you beaten. When they brought you back to me, you were bleeding. You had fourteen bruises, six lacerations, two black eyes, and you were unconscious. They did to that to you.”

“I broke the rules,” I said. “Pack Law, I—”

Ali whirled back around. “Don’t you dare say this is your fault. Don’t you think it, don’t you even come close to making excuses for them. They hurt you. And everyone just stood there and let them—my friends, your friends, my husband—”

Ali’s voice cracked and her body hunched over. For a moment, I thought she’d collapse inward and crumble to the floor, but instead, she straightened and threw her head back. “I don’t care what you did. I don’t care who they think they are, or what Pack Law says, or who’s dominant to who.” She took a long, ragged breath. “All I care about is you.”

“I’m fine.”

She crossed the room and hauled me up in front of a mirror. “Tell me again that you’re fine.”

The unforgiving surface of the mirror told me in no uncertain terms that although the bruises on my face were beginning to yellow and fade, I still looked like I’d been tie-dyed in a vat of black, blue, green, and corpse-colored paint.

“Ali, I’ll be okay,” I said, trying to convince her to take a step back and think about this. “It could have been so much worse.”

She snorted. “If you think you’re making a convincing case for staying, you’re mistaken. Just listen to yourself, Bryn. ‘It could have been worse.’ Who’s to say that it won’t be in the future?” She paused. “Do you think I want that for you? For Katie and Alex?”

Katie and Alex.

Up until now, I’d been dazed and stressing. Now, I was panicked. “They won’t let you take the twins. The pack, they’ll never let Katie go. You’ve seen the way they—”



“Oh, rest assured, I’m dealing with the pack.” The tone in Ali’s voice left very little doubt in my mind that when she said

“the pack,” she meant “Callum.”

Callum, who’d given me to her in the first place.

Callum, who’d ordered my punishment.

Callum, who hadn’t looked at me or said a word to me since I’d touched Chase.

“It’s not Callum’s fault,” I said, wanting desperately to believe it. “Ali, he took care with me. He gave me the only chance that he—”

“I am not having this conversation with you, Bryn. I’m just not. I can’t.” She ran a hand through her hair, and for a moment, she looked very young. “The fact that you don’t hate him for this breaks my heart. And if we weren’t leaving because of what they’d done to you, we’d be leaving because the pack has twisted you enough to make you think that it’s okay for someone to treat you that way. It’s not, and we are. Leaving.”

There was no arguing with her. I would have had better luck convincing Devon to don knockoffs.

With gentle hands, Ali took hold of my waist, careful of my tender body, and she pulled me close, burying her face in my hair. Her shoulders shook, and I realized that she was crying. Sobbing. Clinging to me in a way that made me think she’d never let me go.

“You didn’t wake up,” she said. “I waited, Bryn, and I waited, but you didn’t wake up.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered. I didn’t mean to do any of this. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

This was my fault. Mine.

Without warning, Ali let go of me and straightened back up. She wiped the tears off her own face and then off mine with the same gentle, brisk motion, and then she walked over to my bookshelf, picked up the box there, and turned to leave.

“Be ready to go in an hour.”

An hour. How could a person get ready to leave their entire life behind in one hour? I sat back down on my bed, not even caring about the way my bruises protested and the pain radiated outward from them like liquid spilling over the edges of a pool.