Predator Code (Tales from Wildhearth #1)

Chapter 07 - When the Sky Falls In

It was still dark when, half-dead and half-drowned, Jett dragged her battered body from the canal. Heaving herself up onto the hard-mud embankment of a service access warren, she mustered the strength to tear herself from the flow and collapse in a limp, sodden heap. For what felt like forever all she could do was lie there shivering and sobbing, her adrenaline ravaged frame with nothing more to give, hacking up mouthfuls of water as she tried to clear her lungs.

Eventually she clawed her way up the bank and slumped into a sitting position against the tunnel wall, letting out a strangled howl of agony. Her clothes were soaked and ripped, her body a mess of bruises and blood. Gingerly she checked her right footpaw, wincing at the jolt of pain her touch brought. Between the beating she'd taken at the claws of the wolfkin and the pounding current of the canal every inch of her body ached.

But she wasn't dead.

Not yet at any rate. For the first time since her panicked flight from the warehouse Jett attempted to slow her mind and process the whirl of events that had washed her up here. Her first thought was of pursuit, but she scented nothing untoward in the twilight air. Hopefully the fast-flowing water of the canal would have masked her from the trackers, sweeping her away from the local district before they could catch a trace.

That gave her time to think. But that dragged her mind back to that hallway, reliving the instant the light had left Tyr's eyes. The blood; the shock. By the Savage Fire, why did he have to come out there with her? Maybe if she'd just looked at what she'd been paid to hack they never would have gone to that damned warrenary. They could've abandoned the whole thing, just gone back to their lives, getting by, alive and together.

But no. She'd wanted more. Was that so bad, to want something better?

Maybe. If she'd just accepted her lot in life and not been seduced by the barkstamps on offer Try would still be alive.

No!

A different part of her came surging to the front of her mind, and it boiled with rage. She hadn't killed anyone. She did a job – nothing more. This was not her fault. She was not a murderer. She was the victim. The anger dug its claws in deep the more she repeated that thought to herself, driving it into her mind like a devotion to the Great Peace itself.

Not my fault.

But what to do now? She had no idea what the block-drive had contained and it was gone now, either stolen or destroyed by the wolfkin who'd invaded her workshop. All she could say with certainty was that whatever it was climbed all the way to the top echelons of Wildhearth's government. The wolfkin enforcers did not sully themselves with normal crime – that was the job of their vulkin comrades in the watchguard packs. Those killers only got involved with matters of high security.

Now she needed to figure out what to do about the unholy mess she'd stuck her paws in. Wolfkin security meant politics and politics meant the Conclave of Accord – the city's council chamber right at the centre of Wildhearth's ever-sprawling mass. Wolfkin representatives held the largest number of seats, and the current High Alpha was a wolfkin too. Their influence seeped into every crevice of Wildhearth's government. If their lapdogs were running around killing kin in the districts, she could make a safe bet that whatever the block-drive had contained would look very, very bad for the city's ruling party.

There was always the chance that the wolfkin would move on and forget about her, but somehow Jett doubted her luck would run that way. If she wanted to keep herself safe, she needed to find out just how deep this thing went, and what exactly the wolfkin enforcers thought she knew.

Slowly massaging her swollen joint, she looked around. Where in fangs had she ended up? The canals ran through virtually the entire city so she could have washed up anywhere. She needed to get up to the surface and get her bearings before she could plan her next steps. Taking a tight grip of the joint she tensed, bracing herself for the pain that was coming.