Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

For everyone who’s turned their pain into power

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence. It stirs up something instinctive, deep inside them, that makes them believe they have the upper hand, even if every logical piece of evidence screams at them they do not.

Siphons, our ancient, monstrous enemy from the neighboring country of Astreona. They steal our kids out of their beds and take them back across the border, turning them into living blood bags, feeding off them, sucking out their powerful child life force, and eventually draining and killing them.

I used to go into the alleys and goad older boys twice my size into an altercation just so I could have someone to hit. Just so I could feel something other than the unending, cavernous pain inside my chest.

I can’t totally blame her—superhot warriors riding mystical beasts and wielding mysterious magic? It’s intriguing, if you can set aside the extreme and punishing classism.

Privilege begets more privilege, a never-ending cycle.

And then there’s the other thing I’ve been hiding from him, the part that tortures me in my dreams. How my grandmother had this madness, too, and her mother before that. How the madness runs in my blood, lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag me down into its depths.

I don’t know. Seeing him, suddenly everything is all right. I can’t remember why I was anxious. That’s how it is with Lee.

“Kitten,” he rasps, warmth lacing his voice. “You’re back.”

I hate this pet name so bad

I’ve just told him that I’m going to throw myself into the most dangerous place possible, and he knows me too well to try to talk me out of it. There’s nothing he can do, and Lee hates that. He’s always hated not being able to act, maybe as much as I do.

Today, I love you sounds an awful lot like goodbye.

“You know,” Igor starts, “I’ve met a lot of strong people in my day, between the fighting circuits and the army. But I’ve never known a stronger-willed brat than you.”

She looks like she’s never had to go without a meal, nor fear being snatched by Nabbers. What makes these people so special that they get access to all this? Fuck them.

While we were shopping, Lee mentioned that he heard it was important to have allies for the Ascent. I figured I’d ignore that. I do just fine on my own, most of the time. Yet now as I watch Alessandra shiver and stumble, I can’t help but want to aid her. I pull a spare sweater from my bag and encourage her to layer it under her coat.

They’re the children of the Bonded, I realize. The ones who want a Bonding Trial to come so that they can try for their so-called birthright, test their luck against the mountain and the direwolves atop it.

Far off, somewhere in the mountains, a direwolf howls. The sound echoes in my ears like a warning.

“I am Stark Therion, Alpha of the Daemos pack and one of the instructors during this year’s Bonding Trials.”

STARK??!! WELL YES

Good for you, I want to snark back at him, bristling at his imperious tone. And I’m the Queen of Shit Mountain.

“Remember! The direwolves are not dumb beasts. They are dangerous, sentient beings and they deserve your utmost respect.”

“When you get up, you better fucking run.” My voice is calm, almost pleasant. “Or I’ll gut you.”

“That’s the hard part,” Izabel finishes Venna’s sentence finally. “The bodies. Watching out for the bodies.”

In a different life, I could’ve had friends like Izabel and Venna. It’s a bittersweet thought. I’ll likely never see them again once they bond.

We’ve made it this far. I may not want to bond, but I’m not about to let Izabel and Venna fail now.

When I look at Stark, I see a calm, wicked confidence sharp as a knife, honed from endless fights and very few losses. The power of his towering body, the ferocity in his gaze, the scars and dark tattoos peeking out of his gear, and the ironlike set to his shadowed jaw are there for all to see. He’s as feral and dangerous as his direwolf.

We’re all putting our lives on the line in the war against the Siphons. Why should the Bonded get this luxury when soldiers on the front line are struggling, when commoners are starving to death and living in fear?

Being in his presence is like standing with a knife at my throat, and I find myself settling very slowly into my seat so that I don’t risk his attention slicing my skin open.

Rebellion. That’s what it is. A need to prove him wrong. A need to break his will before he can break mine. It’s that air of competition he projects. I breathe it in and my muscles buzz with the need to show the world that it can’t break me.

Crown Prince Killian descends to the balcony while I stand there frozen, my whole world crumbling around me. And then, seated at his father’s side, he lifts his head and looks right at me, dark blue eyes filled with regret. My heart cracks. Lee.

My pride is a snarling thing, though. Some part of me growls that this isn’t right. That I can’t lay my head down and rest in a place like this. That Killian is the last person I should let see me falter.

And that look in his eyes. Unflinching. Angry, almost, but not at me. At the men I fought in the ring, for bruising my body. At the war, for taking my childhood from me. At the touch of the wintery air, for daring to chill my skin.

Anassa doesn’t stop. She hurtles on to the next obstacle, and I can sense her intention. She wants to win, to prove herself the strongest of the pack, to crush anyone who would challenge her. For the first time since we met, our feelings align. I want to succeed. I don’t give a shit about being Bonded, or rising through the ranks. But I want to prove myself. No, even more than that: I want to embarrass the people who’ve dismissed me from the start. I want my victory to sting them as fiercely as my injuries do every night when Anassa refuses to heal them. I want the power I know I have to carry me through.

We’re two predators who’ve agreed to hunt together for the sake of the kill, but she doesn’t trust me any more than I do her.

“Listen to me, Meryn Cooper. I won’t give you this advice again. Accept Anassa. Accept this life—or you won’t make it through the next challenge.”

will work with you,” Anassa declares finally, her mental voice carrying both promise and warning. “But know this—I chose you for a reason. Do not make me regret it.”

Anassa’s voice fills my head, thick with wrath. “Some people deserve to die.”

Unity is survival. Division will mean death.

The commoners shouldn’t resent the Bonded. They should resent the nobles… and the king.

The Bonded are just beautiful, violent dolls for the actual elites.

But I’m not a polite woman. I’m hard edges and impulse and self-destruction. I don’t care if this world hates me for it; I wouldn’t have myself any other way.

“The Strategos direwolves have convened and chosen their next leader. Anassa. You are the new Strategos Alpha.”

“You were born to lead, girl. Whether or not you believe that is of no consequence anymore. You must, so you will.”

That’s that. I square my shoulders. “Hurt me then, Alpha Stark.”

The more I think about it, the more certain I become that the king has secrets. And I know just how to figure them out.

The message is short. As I read, the paper begins to tremble in my hands. The final line looms large in my vision. We may have located the missing children.

“If you’re going to be reckless, princess, at least let me keep you alive.”

“The only thing I believe in with any certainty is death. It comes for us all.”

As the discussion of strategy continues, I find my gaze drawn back to the portrait of Lucien Brightbane. Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before?

Igor’s face crumples with grief. “She’s dead, Meryn. I’m so sorry. They killed her.”

his room. I shut my eyes to block them out. Goddess, I almost forgot how devastating grief is. How it leaves you husked and raw, but never numb. The pain is like a gaping wound—one no dressing can cover, no shield can truly protect. The agony of it might lessen, but it never truly leaves.

Beyond it, there’s a dimly flickering torch. I briefly catch a glimpse of stairs that lead down. Beneath the arena? Like where that crown might be buried. But why?