Free Wolfen by Alianne Donnelly

hint of convert wafted on the breeze. That howl would have drawn
them in, even half-deaf as they were. It was something. He pointed to his nose
and jerked his chin in the direction of the smell.
    Aiden scowled. “We’re going to work on that stubborn streak
of yours one of these days. Mark my words!” But he scented the air himself and
got back behind the wheel to drive them on. That was all that mattered.
    Not two minutes later, Bryce spied the first hint of
movement ahead. Two converts staggering down the street, even more disgusting
than the ones inland, bodies covered in bite marks and wounds. Bryce had
wondered what would happen when the converts’ food supply ran out. The way they
were tearing through anything with a pulse, it was bound to happen sooner or
later. Now, he had his answer. Apparently the Grays, as humans liked to call
them, didn’t draw the line at eating each other. Although, by the look of it,
they had some sort of nibble-here, nibble-there thing going on. Disgusting
creatures.
    Normally, Bryce wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through
their heads, but right now, he had someone to find, and these two might be the
only breadcrumb he’d get along the trail. He eased off the trigger, keeping his
finger on it just in case. When he didn’t immediately fire, Aiden glanced back
at him with a raised eyebrow, but took the hint and slowed to follow them.
    Around a corner, the two joined a horde gathering in front
of a parking garage entrance. Aiden stopped the mule and leaned forward on the
steering wheel. “Shit,” he muttered.
    The sight of so many converts gave Bryce a hint of what lay
inside that garage, and he had to breathe down another wave of murderous fury.
Unfortunately, his deep inhale took in more convert stench: blood, guts, and
rot. Enough to make a lesser Wolfen faint, but it was a scent the brothers had
gotten used to long ago.
    There was a reason humans had clawed their way to the top of
the food chain and stayed there for so long. They had a natural gift for
exploitation.
    The scientists who’d created this mess had known from the
start the unique pheromonal differences between Wolfen and converts. They’d
raised their Wolfen children like battle dogs to protect humanity. At first
they were sent as guardians to high priority humans. Then they were traded to
villages and outposts to act as sentries and guards. Before long, humans
recognized the value of such unique assets and began to do what humans did
best: subjugate strength, dismantle the will to fight, destroy individual
thought. Wolfen became less than animal. They became a weapon to be used; a possession
to be bred, bought, and sold, or discarded when it proved no longer useful. If
you kicked a dog long enough, it would learn to fear its own bite.
    Humans quickly discovered that Wolfen males were too strong,
too feral, eager to fight and vicious when cornered. But females, docile and
physically weaker with almost no combative attributes, were ideal for their
purposes. As natural life givers, their only defense made them priceless to
humans: they produced pheromones at much higher levels, enough to cloak
themselves and a brood of offspring, their family unit, or pack. A female
decked out in silver could potentially cloak an entire town, marking a vast
territory off limits to converts.
    And why waste resources on bracelets, when you could make
shackles? Why make a necklace, when you could forge a chain and bolt it to the
wall? Why risk your people with unstable male guards, when you could keep one
or two breeding studs and a herd of females for them to impregnate?
    The worst of it came when blood was spilled.
    Converts hunted by scent, and Wolfen blood was still blood.
The hemoglobin called to converts like nothing else, but the Wolfen pheromones
confused them, made them gather in one place and wait, as if they sensed there
would be fresh meat for them to feast on once the pheromones had dissipated.
There was no better way to draw