Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,51

Majority. It’s you they should hunt down. You enjoy barking at Winter, killing her pets.”

“Do you think they haven’t? There’s been a price on my head for years.”

My jaw clenches. Right now, they’re not the only ones who want him dead.

A smile slithers up his face. “You need me to get to Miss Trestman. Never forget.”

“Come on, little ice witch,” Kyn says, leaning in, pressing his mouth to my ear. “We can end this.” Winter bellows loudly now, like a bear about to attack. Mars stands some distance from us—I don’t know if he can hear Kyn’s words, but I’m suddenly aware that despite the tension festering between us, there are things Kyn feels comfortable whispering in my ear.

I turn my face to his. “If we leave, no one else has to die.”

“And what of the Shiv?” Mars asks.

“What of them?”

“You forget I’ve heard Leff’s version of that night at High Pass. I can guarantee these Rangers have heard it too. You think they’ll simply let Shyne and the girl go free? You think they won’t gather them up to face questioning in Glas? What do you think will happen to the girl, Miss Quine, once she’s told the Majority all she knows about you?”

She’ll end up in the Stack. That’s what’ll happen.

Crysel and Shyne—they wouldn’t be the first Shiv rounded up and put to work. But they would be the first enslaved because of me. I stare into the anguish on Kyn’s face and I swallow back the bile that burns my throat.

From overhead, Hyla drops to the snow. “I’ve plenty of bullets left,” she says, “Shall we continue?”

“Yes,” Mars says. “I think so. We end this here.” He steps closer, wraps a hand around Kyn’s bicep, the other around mine. “We can’t be plagued by the wolves or their Rangers for the duration of the journey. It’s foolhardy to leave them salivating in our wake. And when this is all over, Miss Quine, and you’re able to sleep in your own bed at night, you can thank me.”

He releases our arms and strides away, as if that’s settled it.

And I suppose it has.

The Frost Whites have closed the distance and are spreading out, widening their circle. Like an unwilling dance partner, we counter, moving toward one another, the mountain suddenly at our back. They’re hemming us in.

I can’t tell who the alpha is—which is unsettling. You can usually tell with wolves. The alpha’s out front, head high, snapping jaws, larger than all the others. These seven look nearly identical.

“It’s her,” Mars tells me.

“Which one?” I say, desperate, scanning the bloodthirsty eyes raking over us. Ruby and sapphire and emerald and amber. Violet and rose and crystalline.

“Winter,” he says. “Can’t you hear her whispers? She’s their alpha. She’s taken control.”

I can’t hear her whispers. She’s shut me out. But the wolves step closer, snarling, their teeth glistening. My mind tosses and turns, but I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to fight Winter.

“I tried to leave,” I remind her. “You heard me. I tried.”

But she’s silent. She’s nothing. She’s cold and wet and miserable. And the silence pisses me off.

I flip the axe in my hand.

“Mars,” I call. “I have an idea—”

Before I can voice my plan, a wolf lunges at Hyla, its amber eyes flashing. Kyn turns, finger on the trigger of the shotgun, but he never gets to squeeze it. A wolf takes advantage of his divided attention and leaps at his chest, knocking him on his back. The gun goes off and I drop as spray peppers the wall behind us.

I inhale a mouthful of powder as I gasp. The beast opens its massive jaws and clamps onto Kyn’s shoulder, his neck. I scream and throw my axe.

It skids harmlessly across the wolf’s back, but there’s no time to think. Another wolf is on top of Kyn. Hyla fires her guns again and again. Around me, wolves and men alike are tripping and falling. They howl and bleed, but the two beasts inching toward me with their chests rumbling have secured my undivided attention. The closest has eyes of ruby red, and just behind her, a gaze of emerald green. Twyl garlands swinging, they are terrible in their splendor.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear Mars screaming words in Kerce, but it’s futile. They won’t obey him—not with the twyl around their necks.

And then I know: We’ve only the one option.

I stop swinging my dagger, let my hand fall slightly. Ruby pounces. I