Land of Wolves

Chapter 84

The volunteers are already here, thankfully all women, and Sash only has a minute to quickly introduce me before the front doors are flung open and two wolves come barreling in. Their fur is covered in blood, and behind them is a man in his human form carrying a young girl.

She looks about three years old, with curly red hair that sticks out at all angles and a HPAW uniform hanging off her tiny frame. Her right leg is wrapped in gauze, probably due to an injury from the rescue, but it looks like one of Maverick's doctors took care of her along the way.

It's clear the wolf carrying her is trying his best to be gentle as he awkwardly shuffles into the room with his arm wrapped around her midsection, but she screams bloody fucking murder as she scratches and bites at his forearm.

"She won't stop," he grunts, passing her off to one of the volunteers who rush forward to help.

Sash places a hand on my shoulder, keeping me still as soldiers and screaming humans are brought into the room a second later. They pile in, eight in total, all varying from young teens to middle age adults. One of the more daring of the group runs forward and snatches the young girl out of the volunteer's arms before rushing back to the others.

Three of the humans are in HPAW uniforms. One appears to be a nurse, like Bells, and the other two are in the garb the scientists wear.

"Don't get too close, Ev," Sash whispers, her voice low. "I can smell their hatred, and I don't like how they're looking at you."

I'm sure I stand out among the volunteers. Besides the fact that I'm a good head shorter than the female wolves, most humans have probably seen images of me. HPAW frequently showed me whatever photos of Caleb and other high-ranking wolves they could capture footage of. They were almost always grainy and low quality, but it's a safe bet to assume that HPAW has millions of high-def ones of me.

I lived there long enough for them to build up quite a collection.

The eight women shout and scream over one another, and a bold few go as far as to try and attack the wolves who attempt to calm them.

My hands shake, and I clasp them behind my back to hide the physical signs of fear. I don't want either the wolves or humans to think I'm afraid. It doesn't look good.

To my left, a few volunteers are unpacking water bottles and wrapped food, and I rush over to help. They smoothly move over to make room for me, and I grab and set a handful of bottles on the table. Two male warriors rush over to steal some food and drink, but one of the volunteers roughly smacks their hands away.

"Why are they so angry?" one of the women whispers to the others. Her brown hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and she tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear before turning to me. "Everybody said you were docile when you were found."

I press my lips together, mildly offended, even if I know she doesn't mean anything by it. I don't like to think of myself as docile, but I know what she means.

"The wolves didn't take me from HPAW," I admit. "I knew I was being brought to the wolves, and the mate bond helped."

It's not the whole truth, but I'm hesitant to admit I was calm because I was plotting ways to murder Caleb. I was on a mission, unlike these humans, but I have a feeling that answer won't paint me in the best light.

A small part of me feels bad for lying, but not bad enough to tell the truth. Everybody knows what happened between Caleb and me, and there's no point in bringing it up.

"Do you think they're hungry?" the woman asks, changing the subject as she glances at the humans.

A few of them eye the table and packaged food, but they make no moves to break free from their huddled group and investigate.