The Greystone Ridge Pack Series: Warwick
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The Jailer’s Tale
The Greystone Ridge Pack Series: Warwick
WARWICK
Sweat trickles down my temple. My nerves are on fire. I’ve just turned eighteen, and today I find out if I’m destined for a mate or if a different fate awaits me.
I’m here with a group of others, brought to this ancient pack. We stand in line as the old shaman lies on his back. A Seer stands beside him, one hand on his heart, the other raised in front of her.
The crowd gathers, the air heavy with anticipation. Two of us are about to become jailers.
Their hearts pound so loudly, the sound echoes through the forest as they stand before the council. Some smile, knowing they’ll be granted a mate and a normal life. The scent of sweat and fear fills the air as the future jailers clasp hands and exchange a knowing look. The weight of their new responsibility is palpable.
“Warwick!” My name rings out next.
A lump forms in my throat at the announcement. We didn’t know how many of us would be chosen, and the thought of being left alone is suffocating. A jailer’s authority can bring even the strongest alpha to their knees. The gathering falls silent as the tension thickens.
I step forward, my heart pounding as I approach the shaman and Seer. She places her warm hand over my heart, closing her eyes in concentration. A gentle wave of energy flows from her hand, causing a ripple in my veins.
Soft hums fill my ears, lulling me into a trance. Suddenly, a jolt of electricity shoots through my heart, making me gasp for breath. My body trembles, feeling like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions. This isn’t what happened to the others. It’s so much more intense.
As I struggle to regain my composure, the dying shaman reaches out to grasp my hand. His grip is weak, but the energy that courses through me is overwhelming. I feel his last breath leave him, his hand loosening its grip on mine as he succumbs to death.
A sense of peace and finality fills the air, the only sound the soft rustling of the wind. Goosebumps cover my skin as I feel his soul passing over me.
The Seer drops her hand, her eyes refocusing. “It is done,” she whispers.
The burden of a solitary life, where death is a constant companion, has been entrusted to three of us. I swallow hard as I join the other two, and our ceremony continues. The crowd watches in silence as we pledge our devotion to each other and to our duty.
My heart aches with the knowledge that I’ll never have a mate, never know love or that bond. We’re each given a county within the werewolf community to oversee. I’m relieved to get the Black Mountains. This will be the last time the three of us see each other.
***
The threat of war has been hanging over us for months, and now it’s here, right on our doorstep. Akasha has unleashed everything he’s got.
The rain is pouring down, the ground soaked and treacherous from the storm that passed through last night. Worried about the horses, I go to check on them after hearing a noise that sounded like something cracking in the night.
The scant daylight that manages to penetrate the thick storm clouds casts a dull gray hue over everything. The wind howls, thunder clashes, and the smell of wet earth and rain fills my nostrils. The dampness and chill seep into my bones.
To my dismay, the fence around the horses’ area is broken, and two of my horses have escaped.
Fixing the fence to keep the others from escaping is more difficult than I expected, and I end up sliding in the mud.
“Fuck,” I mutter, doing a half-assed job of fixing it. But it’ll have to do for now.
Mud coats my boots as I trudge up the field to check on the remaining horses. I find them huddled inside the rock face shelter. It’s deep enough to protect them from the elements, and I make sure to fill the rack with more hay.
“Stay safe, you two. I’m sure the others just got scared and will be back once this is over.” I pat Juniper’s neck, worried about Blackheart, my stallion, who isn’t friendly to anyone.
My ears prick up as howls fill the air. I sniff the air. Trouble is coming. I’m well hidden here, and the rain will mask my scent. I decide to stay with the horses, ready to protect them if necessary.
Through the pouring rain, a pack of wolves—no, an army—races through my lands, followed by humans. My heart races. Alpha Hawk had mentioned that Akasha had humans under some sort of spell.
Thunder crashes, causing several individuals to jump in fright. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning illuminates the dark sky, casting an eerie glow on the scene. I notice a woman, her long hair matted to her back from the rain.
As I watch the group, I worry for their safety. They seem ill prepared for the harsh elements, with little clothing to protect them from the storm. I wonder what their purpose could be in this chaos.
The air is heavy with the stench of confusion as they wander aimlessly, looking disoriented. Suddenly, Akasha emerges from the shadows. Despite his desperate attempts, he can’t breach the walls or bars of my jail, and a wave of relief washes over me.
I shudder to think what might have happened had he come face to face with Athena, the wolf Seer I’ve imprisoned. The air crackles with tension as I watch them, my heart racing with anticipation.
With a mission in mind, the group moves forward. The sound of human footsteps and wolf paws squishing through the mud fills the air. Some look lost, while others obediently follow orders.
The power within me, the ability to bring an alpha to their knees, hums in my mind, but it’s a power that comes with sacrifice.
The smell of wet earth and the sight of the group moving in unison toward their goal is daunting. I need to warn Alpha Black.
A scream echoes among the humans, and something primal stirs within me. I have to protect her. My usually dormant wolf growls in agreement.
I raise my nose to the air, but it’s difficult with the rain and the scent of the wolves that have passed through here. Are some still lingering? I can handle a few wolves, but if there are too many, they’ll overpower me.
A flash of white and… “Apricot.” I smile as she runs past the house. That means Blackheart might be close by.
The woman’s cry pierces through the rain, and thunder rumbles above us again. I dash out as quickly as I can, cursing the mud under my feet.
Apricot is delirious and rears up as a bolt of lightning flashes in the distance. My long gray hooded overcoat keeps the rain out. I open the gate and call Apricot. My voice carries over the pounding rain. Her head whips in my direction, and she bolts toward us and into the paddock.
The Seer, locked up in the damp and dreary jail cell, is howling frantically, her piercing screams echoing off the stone walls. I can feel the intensity of her words resonate within me, stirring up a curious and inexplicable emotion.
“One chance. The gods have given you one chance.” Her words have been echoing through the cell for days, and they’re seeping into every fiber of my being.
The sound of a desperate cry and a panicked neigh pierce through the air, sending shivers down my spine. I hesitate, unsure of what to do. Should I take the time to warn Black, or do I follow the pull of fate and uncover what it has in store for me?
