Chapter 37

First, I noticed his shoes. Expensive, black, the same ones he was wearing earlier. His left sock was scrunched down towards his shoe, and there was a scar on his ankle. His pants were ripped and dirty, like he had been drug through the mud by something large. Where there were rips, there was blood and chunks of his flesh was missing, some cut as deep as his bone.

His black and white check oxford shirt was ripped, and gouges ran down his chest, like he had been clawed repeatedly. Over where his heart should be, it had been ripped from his body and was nowhere in the area. It was a grim reminder kid how we had found Fenrir a few days earlier.

His throat had been ripped open, his eyes gouged out. His mouth hung open, revealing missing teeth, and his tongue had been removed. He was bruised and bloodied, and had I not seen him earlier that day wearing those same clothes, I would have never guessed this was Peter.

“Wolves,” Damien spat. “Fucking wolves did this.”

I got closer to Peter, to look at the marks on his neck, “Damien, look!” I said pointing to a healed scar on Peter’s neck and shoulder. “This is an Alpha’s bite. He’s marked.”

“Who the fuck would mark a human? And why would Peter allow that?”

“What if he didn’t allow it?” I asked, thinking back to what Viti had said about rogues taking humans. Looking closer at the scar on Viti’s ankle, I realized it wasn’t a scar from an accident. “He’s been branded, look.”

On Peter’s left ankle was the scar left behind after being burned by hot metal. For a wolf, the only thing that would work for a branding like that would be hot silver, but for a human who is so fragile and couldn’t heal like a wolf, I imagine any hot metal would work.

The branding was shaped like a crescent moon but broken in the middle, bending to the right. Through the curved side of the crescent was a straight vertical line crossed by two horizontal lines through the break. “What does that mean?” I asked.

“Peter, what did you get yourself involved in?” Damien asked.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t good,” Lyulf commented. I’ve sent wolves to try to follow the scent of whoever did this, but it stopped at the Southern barrier. We think whoever it was had a car waiting there to cross back to our realm.

“Viti has been in command for less than 24 hours and already the pact is broken,” Aurelia screamed in my head. She was right, something bad was happening in Iceclaw.

“So, the Night Flame is in Iceclaw?” Damien asked Lyulf.

“We’re not sure, Alpha. I have a theory. He took it for whoever marked and branded him, then they killed him to silence him,” he stated, “but that doesn’t seem likely. The mark and brand likely mean that he was owned or controlled by someone, likely wolves. However, if it did happen, it is likely in Iceclaw which means they have both now.” Damien and I exchanged looks, knowing he was talking about the Moonstone. Lyulf didn’t know that I had the Moonstone, and it was currently safe.

“Do you have another theory?” Damien asked.

“I think I might,” I offered. They both looked at me. “What if he fucked up? What if the Night Flame didn’t make it to wherever it was meant to- probably the wolf who marked and branded him- but when he wasn’t useful or became a liability, they disposed of him?”

“But then where’s the Night Flame?” Lyulf asked.

“Somewhere lost in the city,” I shrugged. “If you were a human walking around with something you thought was valuable, where would you go?” Just then, Damien’s phone chimed.

“Clarissa found something,” he said, then showed us a picture of a note tucked the large white sofa. It read simply: Dear Mr. S, I’m Sorry. Thank you for everything. -P.