Page 8 of Raised By Wolves
The chief says, “Treats are for first-timers only,” and then he smiles at me again. All warm and kind, like he thinks we’refriends.
That dumb smile just sends me over the edge. If I had fangs I’d bare them. Instead I lash out with words. “You’re trying to fool us into thinking you’re on our side, cop, but that’s not going to happen. We’re not stupid.”
“I know that, Kai,” the chief says.
“No, youdon’tknow it,” I growl. “But you will.”
CHAPTER 8
THE CHIEF’S FACE darkens, and then he turns and walks away. Lacey shoots me a wounded look and trots after him.
Looks like I hurt some human feelings.
Can’t say I care, though.
I sneak a glance over at Waylon. He’s sprawled on the bed, using his beat-up leather jacket as a pillow and acting so relaxed you’d think he was enjoying himself.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. There’s a hint of challenge to his voice.
I bristle. “I’m not.”
This is a lie. Iwasstaring at him. But it’s not because he looks like some stupid teen heartthrob with perfectly messy hair and smoldering eyes. It’s because I’ve never seen another person my age up close. Never talked to another boy besides Holo, who’s so familiar to me that he might as well be my own shadow.
Now I’m staring down at my feet, but I can picture Waylon perfectly: his sharp cheekbones, his easy smile. His hint of a swagger when he moves.
Suddenly there’s a bagel waving back and forth in front of my face.
“Are you going to eat this?” Holo asks. “It’s the last one.”
“What? No.”
“Good,” he says. He takes a giant bite of it. He looks happier than he did before Lacey brought food, but he’s still afraid. I can smell it on him. If he had a tail it’d be tucked between his legs.
“—I’m telling you, those goddamn bastards are back!”
Holo flinches at the fierce voice. I go to the corner of the cell and press my face against the bars. Near the front door of the police station, there’s a bearded man in overalls and a big dumb hat. He’s pointing at the chief, yelling about how those “bloodthirsty bastards” need to be shot. Or trapped. Or poisoned. How they need to be “strung up from the trees as a warning to their bastard brothers.”
Fear creeps up my spine.
“I’ve lost a dozen chickens in the last week,” Dumb Hat yells. “Brady lost two lambs and a ewe, and Johnny Mills says they got his dog.”
I’m praying that neither one of them says just one particular word—
“And you think it’s wolves?” the chief says to Dumb Hat.
There it is—the word I didn’t want to hear. Holo looks up at me, his eyes dark with fear.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. Meanwhile my blood’s turning to ice.
It’s not wolves, I want to scream. But why would they believe me? Especially since I’m not even sure I can believe myself.
You never know what a wild animal will do. That’s why you call itwild.
“Raccoons kill chickens, too, Stan,” the chief says.
“That’s right!” I yell. “Those shits’ll eat anything they can get their paws on.” I loved raccoons until they devoured a hummingbird nest I’d been keeping my eye on. Not just the sweet baby birds, the whole perfect, tiny nest.
Dumb Hat ignores me, but the chief shoots me a look likePlease shut up, this is official police business. “Foxes kill chickens, too, and coyotes can take down a calf,” the chief adds.