Wolf Pack C. J. Box Novels & Stories

"But I won't be dead. I've done this kind of extraction before." "Never against northern wolves," The leader said. "No. Never against northern wolves." I moved to my pack, pulled it over. "But I've gone up against worse odds." "Like when?" “Trust me, you don't wanna know.” I unzipped the pack, pulled out a wooden box about the size of a shoebox. The wood was old, scratched, handle worn smooth from years of carrying. I set it on the ground, opened the clasps. Inside, wrapped in an oil-stained cloth, was a chain.

I cannot see out of my eye, nor can I back away from the door as the other wolf still has ahold of my arm that I am sure is mangled beyond repair. Just when I think all hope is lost, Jaxon bites into the back of one of the wolfs neck. Another wolf appears from down the hallway and he is massive much like Jaxon. He is white with speckles of black across his body. He takes out the other wolf as both him and Jaxon tear each wolf limb from limb leaving no pieces in tacked. I back away from the door.

I had hope that it wouldn't just happen now. But like every other year, at this point I would wish that my name wasn't my name. I would wish that I wasn't Allison Bush, the last air of the Bush who actually is the only one that turns into a full wolf on a full moon. I was trying to run from that and some other things.. But then again, you can't run away from yourself!!

“But it ain’t for the parlour. I don’t fuckin’ know what it’s for – but we got a message, boys. A serious one.” He picked up the box, turned to Scars, held it out. Curious, Scars looked inside, and his stomach jumped when he saw the contents. “Fuck, Wolf,” he said softly. “Is it real?” “Yeah.” Wolf faced his brothers again, carefully tipped up the box on its side so everyone could see, but not so far that anything fell out. “It’s a finger.”

Staying light on his paws, he waited as the wolf raced forward, past his peers, eager to be the one to take the first kill. Connor watched, taking a centering breath, his muscles winding with tension. The moment the wolf lunged, his paws leaving the floor, Connor moved. He darted forward, his speed taking the wolf by surprise. He ducked under its outstretched claws, then reared up, forcing his shoulder into its throat. Something cracked under the force, a sickening snap crunching beside his ear. Blood sprayed from the wolf's snout, a river that bubbled as panic embedded in the dying warrior's chest. The fur of Connor's back was coated, his victory guaranteed in mere seconds.

Onyx This big bad wolf is nothing good to be asked but instead of fighting him, I thought of killing him right away, without wasting any time. I launched at him while jumping high in the air/ a butt kick placed on his head and the wolf tumbled back before falling on his back with a thud. Meanwhile, the wither warrior wolves of the red clan pack took down enemy wolves, having an upper hand in this fight. I noticed Jacob fighting three of the enemy wolves, strangling one wolf under his feet and the other’s were ripped open by him.

I turn to see my fathers huge black wolf Cyrus standing where the brown wolf once was, glaring towards the other two wolves as they turn and run, leaving the house the way they came. 'INTRUDERS! In the pack house gardens. Kill them!!' my father screamed using his Alpha command through the pack link. Howling and growls come from all around us as the warriors obey their Alphas orders. Beta Jacob shifts back to him human form, grabbing some shorts from the unit by the kitchen door before carefully walking towards the large brown wolf that now lay unconscious on the stairs. He hands my father a pair of shorts, as he gives the unconscious wolf a kick, followed my another and another.

I push my four legs to move faster through the muck of the black water, the soggy lands in between, not stopping to rest or drink. By the time the morning paints the swamp in gold, I know I am surrounded by my pack. I can smell and hear them setting their trap, before I see them closing in. A circle of wolfs corrals me beneath a longleaf pine and I have nowhere else to run. My cousins flank my sides, Wolfe in his pelt of ash gray, River in his red coat, and Clay in his silver-grey fur growling and baring their teeth when I get too close, while the twins trap me from behind, fur raised and snarling. In front of my path is Hawke, the second largest of our hunter band watching me warily with em

It was so hard to focus on his face when literally everything was bare. I cleared my throat, "so uh...what you saw outside the house was real. The supernatural is real and this wolf over here is a werewolf who was imprisoned into that stone thingy for many years until today. He's here to ask for our help," yup, I just laid it all out there for her to process. It wasn't like I could break it down any simpler anyway. A huge sigh of relief escaped my lips as the tension fled my body. It felt so good to tell the truth for once. To speak of the things that I knew about.

--- The next morning, Elara returned to the library. She was determined to find an answer. She would not give up. She could not give up. The future was too important. Her pack was too important. She found a text tucked away in a dusty corner, its pages yellowed with age. It was bound in leather so old it was cracked and crumbling. She carefully opened it, her fingers gentle on the fragile pages. It was written in an ancient language, the words faded and difficult to read. But as she studied it, she realized it was a record of the First Wolf's life, a chronicle of his creation and his power. It was the most complete account she had ever seen.