No—
“Where is he?”
Devan blinked. Somehow he’d missed the first shifter crouching in front of him, only iron bars between them. “Who?”
“Your alpha.”
Which one?But Devan’s muddled mind snared the question before it escaped. He hadn’t shifted. There was still a chance his captors hadn’t figured out who he was. That somehow they hadn’t noticed his scent was unlike any wolf they had come across before.You’re not that lucky.
But perhaps he didn’t need luck. The air was saturated with the blood of a hundred wolves. To Devan, only a faint trace of Zio stood out. He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know where my alpha is.”
“Liar.”
“If you say so.”
The huge southern shifter growled and punched the iron bars of the cage, bending them with the force of the blow.
Broken metal spiked millimetres from Devan’s face. He winced. The shifter grinned. “Wherever they are, they’re not coming back for you. We killed each one we caught, and there’s no way they’ll get back through our lines to collect their dead.”
Laughter bubbled in Devan’s chest, but once more, he swallowed the reaction down at the very last second. “They wouldn’t come back for me anyway. I’m of no consequence to them.”
“That right?”
“Yes. I’m nobody.”
Another menacing growl rumbled between them. Devan sensed the gaze of the young woman on him but resisted the urge to glance at her. She knew exactly who he was, and these were her people. Why hadn’t she given him up? They shared a connection—he’d healed her—but he hadn’t seen her since. What was he to her?
And why the hell is she still in a cage?
The shifter questioning Devan lost interest and wandered off, taking his brothers with him. Exhausted by the exchange, Devan slumped on the cold ground. It took him a moment to remember the girl.
He forced himself to look at her, though the cracked floodlight somewhere behind her hurt his eyes. “Why are you still in this cage?”
She shrugged. “I don’t recognise anyone, so I’m assuming they don’t recognise me.”
“You don’t recognise the scent of your own pack?”
“My pack was decimated at the border. I don’t know who these clowns are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s not that complicated. The northern pack is just that—one pack. In the south we are many, brought together to fight one war.”
“So you fight with strangers? To what aim? And why didn’t they kill you if they thought you were northern?”
Something flickered in the girl’s eyes. “Twenty years later and I still don’t know what the aim of this war is, and as for why they haven’t killed me, they’ve figured out I have enhanced hearing and they’re trying to figure out if I’m worth more to them alive. But whatever, dude.You’rethe one fighting for a pack that’s not your own.”
“Theyaremy pack.”
“How? You’re not a—”
The end of the sentence was drowned out by a wave of pain so intense Devan cried out, rigid as it coursed through him, searing every nerve. His skin burnt and his eyes watered as if he was corroding from the inside out.Gods, this feels like radiation poisoning.He’d seen such things in eastern Europe many years ago, and the memories were indelibly etched in his mind.
His brain buzzed as he tried—and failed—to apply logic to the increasingly outlandish theories that zipped through his mind. Bright images of death that were fascinating and terrifying at the same time. “I think I’m hallucinating.”
“I think you’re right.” The girl’s voice was closer than ever. “I’m so sorry, but I think you’re really, really sick.”
Chapter Twenty-Five