“The same organization that helped other war criminals like Dr. Josef Mengele escape to South America,” said Slade.
“Only they blended in with human society while the werewolves escaped into the jungles, where they hid until we found wolf paradise here in Patagonia,” Henrik explained.
“Wait. The bunkers and Nazi relics found in some Argentinean jungle? Was that part of Wolfstrom’s pack?” Cricket asked.
“Abandoned long ago. In fact, we no longer follow Nazi ideology.”
“Good to know.” Cricket smirked. “I hate to ask what new ideology includes kidnapping werewolves.”
Chapter 14
Cricket followed Henrik into a grand hall. Slade walked behind her, escorted by two well-armed beta guards. At least they did not carry Wolfsbane rifles, but the bullets would still wound Slade and for sure kill her. She gazed at the walls and shuddered. Built like a replica of some wolf version of Valhalla. Battle scenes, lycans against humans throughout the ages. Victorious werewolves displayed as giant wolves gorging on humans and other gruesome scenes. She scanned the hall. Only werewolves seemed to occupy Wolf Lair Castle. Where had they all come from? This pack had never been accounted for. Many of the lycans roamed around in wolf form. As they trotted by, they bowed in deference to alpha Henrik. How did he cover his alpha scent while working with Dr. Warner? It would be nice to use the formula to hide her low status. No petite alphas existed, but petite betas did. Unfortunately, in their society, size was everything.
Henrik stopped in front of an arched doorway and knocked.
“Enter,” boomed a baritone voice.
She briefly locked eyes with Slade, and then followed Henrik in.
Henrik bowed. “King Wolfstrom, I present Prince Slade of the Yukon Territory and his runt, Cricket Ruelle.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her claws emerged. You did not just call me his runt!
Slade dipped his head. “Your majesty.”
Cricket furrowed her b
row. So now, he’s playing cool? Behind Derr Fuehrer two huge black uniformed alpha guards were armed with swords. A weird rune insignia over a slanted SS emblem plastered on their lapels.
The king turned to Henrik. “Leave us.” After he stepped out, the king spoke, “You may call me Wolfstrom, or my academic name, Dr. Wolfstrom, PhD in Microbiology.” The so-called king appeared to be in his late fifties, with gray eyes, baldhead and a well-trimmed gray beard. Tall and broad, matching Slade’s six foot six frame. Unlike Henrik, his accent sounded more Argentinian than German.
Slade met his eyes. “I was not aware lycans existed in South America.”
“We have kept our packs a secret from your human loving lycan society.”
“Until now,” said Slade.
Cricket raised a brow. Did he say packs? Obviously, a well-kept secret from lycan society.
Wolfstrom grinned, baring long fangs. “Precisely, until now.” He locked eyes on Slade. “I’m sorry for the death of your pack.”
Slade scowled. “Every last one involved with my pack’s massacre is dead.”
Wolfstrom gestured for Slade to sit, but ignored her. Again, having lower status was a bitch. Cricket stood like a good little submissive. Slade slowly sat.
Wolfstrom remained standing. “So I have heard. I hope they met a gruesome death.” He sighed. “Years ago, we killed members of a criminal Siberian pack we once did business with. You might say we did a violent takeover of their business.”
Slade curled his lip. “You are no different. Kidnapping lycans. Stealing and killing the unchanged ones. You’re nothing but an oath breaker.”
Chill. Is he trying to get us killed? She kept her tongue. If she spoke without the alpha’s permission, she’d be punished, if not killed, on the spot.
Instead of growling, Wolfstrom laughed. “If Stallo were alive, he’d accuse you and your soft lap dogs of being oath breakers.”
Cricket bit her lip. Wolfstrom had a point. Centuries ago, Stallo, the wolf wizard and first werewolf had intended to create a world meant for the superior lycan rulers. To avoid annihilation by werewolf hunters, their kind had gone underground. Forbidding werewolves from revealing their kind, and killing any human who learned of their existence. Hundreds of years later, they created the non-disclosure law and laws protecting innocent humans from werewolves. Not soft, smart.
“We do not kill our kind,” said Slade.
Wolfstrom snorted, “Ah, but we do. We have.” He glared at Slade. “Did not the packs of Europe kill my grandparent’s pack?”