Wolf at the Door (Wolf Winter #3) - T.A. Moore Page 0,39

meant to do? Chained dogs and collared wolves, against the Wild and monsters and… gods?”

Jack still didn’t know. His head was full of a sick storm of fear and anger. It would have to be enough.

“We do what we’ve always done, what we did to the Sannock.” He felt a chill on the back of his neck as he said their name—murdered by wolves, butchered for their blood and meat. It was a deed to be ashamed of, not to hold up for people to rally behind, but Jack would use what they had. The Sannock, truly dead now the stagnant resection of the Wild they’d been trapped in had split open, were past being hurt by it. “We hunt them, we bring them to bay, and then we kill them.”

It would have worked better on wolves. The words would have tickled their pride, and the excitement would have spread through the Pack like contagion. They’d have howled for him, a new catechism to add to the canon. Dogs were more cautious. They liked to sniff before they leaped. Maybe that was their nature.

It still lifted a few chins and lowered some shoulders as the dogs glanced from him to each other. Only Tom glared sullenly from the shadows and clung stubbornly to his faith in the prophets’ half-promises. It was fragile, but it was faith.

Of course, it was Gregor who couldn’t resist the urge to foul it. He had never been able to leave well enough alone, even when it was in his best interest. His voice cut roughly through the uncertain silence.

“Sounds great, but…,” he said. Jack turned and scowled at Gregor, who lifted his chin and smirked at him. “Maybe we should get out of here first?”

Jack skinned his lips back from his teeth in a grin as an idea crystallized in his brain. The desire to spite his brother maybe wasn’t the best source of inspiration, but he’d take what he could get.

“Why?” he asked. Gregor caught up a second later and grimaced, caught between understanding and their old, comfortable resentment. Jack turned to sweep his gaze across the dogs as they listened. “Let the prophets come. They’re going to take us exactly where we want to go.”

Despite their wariness, the ferocity of his words caught the dogs up. Teeth flashed in quick, determined smiles, and they nodded grimly as they traded looks in the dim light. Maybe, Jack thought with a flicker of grim humor, he wasn’t the only one who found odd comfort in the old habits of hating Gregor.

The scuff of boots on dirt behind made him turn. Gregor met his eyes for a second and then looked away.

“You have the dogs,” he said. “But to be Numitor, you’ll need the wolves.”

A ROUGH hand hooked through the ring that collared Jack and dragged him up out of the dark. He squinted at the sudden transition to the snow-bright morning glare and lifted his arm to shade his eyes. The world was white, the sky starched-looking with the next fall, and fresh, crisp sheets of white snow lay over everything. The prophet who had ahold of Jack had pockmarked cheeks and ginger hair that crept back from his furrowed brow. He slapped Jack’s arm out of the way and looked surprised as he recognized his face.

“See?” Lachlan blurted as he stepped forward. “I told you it was them. The Numitor’s bastards.”

Gregor laughed at him as he was dragged up out of the hole. “Your parents get wed in a church, Lach?” he mocked. “Yer ma wear a veil over her fur?”

Color flushed up Lach’s face, freckles sprayed in dark splatters over his forehead and across his cheeks. He stepped in and backhanded Gregor across the face, hard enough to jar Gregor loose from the prophet’s grip and lay him out on the snow.

“Shut up,” Lachlan spat down at him. He kicked Gregor in the ribs and then the stomach. “You aren’t even a wolf anymore, and you were barely a man before, so who the fuck do you think you are to look down on me?”

Jack lunged at Lach, but the prophet who had him had a better grip. The metal dug in across Jack’s throat and split open the slice on his throat as the prophet yanked him back and then kicked his feet out from under him and put him on his knees.

“He’s the Old Man’s son,” Jack spat. He wrapped his fingers around the collar to pull it away from his