Novelas y relatos de The Lost Pack

There was time for that; I just had to learn to be patient. Finally, I think her wolf was slightly tired and slowed. I know my wolf was. Her wolf cuddled up next to mine as we basked in the moonlight. I could hear the river flowing close by. We were called the Lost River pack for a reason, the river flows underground, and nobody knows where it flows out. It was one of the many mysteries of this land.

I blurted out. "No need to apologize," Raymond chuckled, frowning as he asked, "Does it hurt?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not clumsy," I quickly shot back. Maybe the moment of relief helped lift the heaviness weighing on me. Raymond smiled, but then his expression grew more serious. "A year ago, I lost my pack. It was a setup... some accidents happened. A fire destroyed everything, and all my pack members died. I was the newly appointed alpha after that."

He shook his head, unable to find the words. “Yeah,” Jasper swallowed hard. “I know. I mean… I didn’t know. Not until my dad told me recently. Our runs take place on the outskirts of the city, in the forest. The meeting place, the house there, is modern, built in my grandfather’s time. I guess it never occurred to me to wonder why, with our history, we don’t seem to possess anything historical for the pack… Until my dad told me how the pack land was lost, in the battle for the city, for territory, against the Morrisons…” “Oh shit.” Reid refilled their champagne glasses. “Where is this pack land?”

The loss of so many pack members weighed heavily on everyone, but none more so than Hugo. He stood in the center of the pack’s clearing, drenched from the rain, his sea-green eyes dark with sorrow. Around him, the wolves gathered, their heads bowed, their spirits broken. The howls of mourning pierced the air, a haunting symphony of shared pain and loss. Each cry carried the weight of a name, a memory, a life taken too soon.

Randall Krauft. As we move to the back entrance where they'll take me back down to the basement I remember the day we arrived here for the first time. Our pack had just been attacked, all ranked wolves were killed. Which included my parents and brother. It would include me, but we overheard a conversation before having a black bag forced over our head. "She's thirteen." It was one of the hunters. Humans who feel it's their job to rid the world of all beings they deem as "unnatural".

“More than you have, I’m sure. But the thing is, if shit gets tense, those are the people we need. Tea can argue with you about whether a spork deserves to be considered a utensil so fiercely that you’ll forget how much you wanted to rip Ford’s throat out. And when we get together with other packs, you wouldn’t believe how good it is to have an asshole like Jesse who can convince anyone that it’s a good day for the football game Rocco planned, even if it’s pouring rain and cold as shit outside.” “Since when is shit cold?” His grin widened. “There you go.” “What about the last box?” I gestured to the sixth one, which said: SIGMA. “That would be the pack’s instigator.” His expression grew ruef

Just as it was made to be their downfall, it was also their only saving grace. Unless you had one in your possession, you won’t be able to stop your pack being destroyed. And no matter your strength or the size of your army. A small pack could overthrow you because that is just the curse of the thing. Each pack was assigned one gem. And if you lose it. You lose your pack.’ The one I had belonged to Mr. Harrison’s pack. His old pack, I guess. Seeing as it was with me. I would guess the pack was destroyed. He’d seemed bothered when we started talking about that. So, I didn’t get to ask.

“There’s something I need to show you.” Alice frowned as Mira pulled out a small, leather-bound book, its edges worn and stained. She handed it to Alice, her fingers brushing hers—warm, too warm. “My family’s kept this for years. It’s… history. About the packs.” Alice opened it, her hands shaky. The pages were old, filled with cramped writing and strange symbols—circles, crescents, claws. One word jumped out: Hybrid. Her stomach twisted as she read a line: Born of man and moon, the one who carries both bloods shall break or bind the packs.

“If you do have to come for her… don’t just keep her alive.” I frown. “Meaning?” “Give her a pack,” he says. “A real one.” I glance out the window again at my men, my family. “I can do that.” “I know,” Fang replies. “That’s why I called you.” The call ends not long after that. I lower the phone slowly, my reflection staring back at me in the dark glass of the window. The wolf beneath my skin is restless now, pacing hard, insistent. Somewhere out there is a woman who doesn’t know her world is about to burn.

Brynor We arrived at Hector's beloved pack a little before noon. We drove straight into the village in our blacked out limousine. Every other pack border in the country was heavily guarded and more often than not gated off from the outside human world. Pack scents are easily identifiable, warning rogues or other pack wolves of the territory they enter, but not Hector's. He had been so arrogant and self righteous in his way of living, that anyone could wander in and out and never know they had stumbled quite literally into the wolfs den.