Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,54

as bad—if not worse—than having an overweight Greek vampire going for my carotid. I stretched my fingers, envisioning them bursting into claws. My muscles twinged with the effort and my face felt hot from struggling, but nothing happened. Unless breaking a sweat counted.

“Take them to the pit. We’ll let Carn sort them out.”

“But I want to touch her,” one of the other wolves whined.

Mohawk backhanded him. Even if he wasn’t the leader, it was obvious the spiky-haired bastard was high in their ranks. I should have shot him when I had the chance, but now my gun was tucked in the front of his jeans.

Good luck, buddy. I turned the safety off. I hope you blow your nuts to pulp.

Apparently my telekinetic powers were as rusty as my shifting was because the gun did not fire even though I was giving it the evil eye with all my might. Where were my hereditary witch skills?

The wolf dragging me pulled me over a crop of sharp rocks. To show my appreciation, I pushed off the ground with both feet. Had I not been tethered to someone by my hair I could have done a nice kick up onto my feet, but his hold would just drag me down. Instead I put too much weight into it so my legs went right over my head and connected hard with his skull.

He dropped me. “Son of a bitch,” he screamed. The hand that had once been in my hair flew up to cradle his injured noggin.

I straightened into a standing position and dusted the moss and mud off my jacket casually, like nothing had happened. “My legs work. I can walk.”

The wolf I’d kicked made to grab my hair again, and my elbow flew back, breaking his nose.

“I said I can walk.”

Mohawk stared at me. “You think you can do it without breaking any more bones?”

“That depends. Do you think your puppies can keep their paws to themselves the rest of the way?”

The group who had been bartering with each other about who would ride first suddenly didn’t seem quite so interested. I wasn’t stupid enough to think they wouldn’t still try, but for now I wasn’t as inviting as I’d once been.

“I make no promises,” Mohawk said.

“Then neither do I.”

We arrived in a small encampment about fifteen minutes later, having never left the island. The place was much bigger than I’d anticipated, making me wonder if the Loups-Garous were the only inhabitants. I wanted to believe someone out there might be able to save us, but who was I kidding? Who could stand against a pack of feral wolves almost as large as Callum’s whole crew?

Small campfires littered the main living area and little wooden shacks appeared to be the sole form of shelter. A woman heavy with pregnancy stepped out of one shed and caught my eye. I didn’t miss the flash of pity in her face. She rubbed her big belly, and a small child dashed out from behind her. They both looked wild, hair sticking up, rigid with muck.

The child was barely six, but the smell of wolf was unmistakable.

They were changing the children.

Changing children before they came of age was forbidden by werewolf law. Most children couldn’t handle the change at an early age, and the transformation into wolf form would more often than not kill them. This was why born werewolves were so rare and why seeing one in adulthood was almost unheard of.

It took a really sick animal to turn a child, and I was surrounded by a whole pack of them.

Another woman—hardly old enough to be called an adult—was sitting next to a fire. She scampered out of the way when the men arrived back in the camp. Her belly, too, was large.

Jesus Christ. They kidnapped women and made them into living breeding machines so they could expand their pack through the offspring. This was what they had planned for me.

As it turned out, the pit wasn’t a cheeky nickname for anything. It was literally a giant fucking hole in the ground, about fifteen feet deep and just as wide across. Mohawk let the wolf with a broken nose and a goose egg on the back of his head have the pleasure of shoving me into it. Holden was tossed in next, and his bulk landing on top of me sucked worse than my fall.

I grunted and shoved him off me. The wolves dragged two sheets of plywood over the mouth of the hole, and