Prologue #2
He knew it was Em—knew it in the same unexplainable way he knew how to find whatever prey he tracked.
He started running, his heart in his throat.
She kept screaming, and he felt a tiny flash of pride.
He’d taught her that. Scream as loud as you can.
Don’t stop, even if it seems like no one is coming.
His one act of blatant disobedience was teaching her to fight.
For months now, he’d gotten her up before dawn and taught her not just the moves and footwork but all the dirty tricks she could use to make up for her small stature.
The raiders often stole young girls and women to sell as slaves or whores.
He’d heard the stories. The raiders taking her was one of his worst fears, and he was willing to risk a public caning if it meant she could defend herself.
It couldn’t be a raider, though, because her screams were coming from high above on the roofs.
One of Em’s common transgressions was climbing onto the private roofs of the upper class and running and jumping across them like they were her own personal playground.
Wolf scrambled up a set of broken pallets and grabbed the balcony above, hauling himself up to reach the next one.
Someone inside the house shrieked, and he grimaced.
He’d deal with that later. Right now, he needed to get to Em.
By the time he got to the roof, he was sick with panic and adrenaline.
He followed the sound of her panicked screams at a sprint, dreading what he was about to find, but nothing— nothing —could have prepared him for what he saw.
Em was crouched over a body, and the metallic tang of blood filled the air.
As he got closer, he realized with a sickening bolt of horror it was Dune.
Dune lay on his back with one hand clutching his bloody gut and the other trying to push Em away. He was screaming, too, but weakly.
“No! Stop! Please stop, Em! Stop!"
Everything slowed as his feet pounded across the hard-baked clay roof, and he scanned the horrible scene.
Dune’s terrified eyes cut to him. One of Pa’s knives lay bloody and discarded on the roof next to Ember.
Blood formed a puddle beneath his brother’s body and splattered across the roof as Dune raised his bloodied hands and tried to smack Em’s hands away.
Dune’s lips formed Wolf’s name, and Em’s head swiveled to look at him.
Wolf crashed to his knees beside them, shouldering Em out of the way and pressing his own hands against the wound—no, gods—the giant gash in Dune’s gut.
“What happened? What did you do?” he screamed at both of them. When neither answered him, he glanced from the blood gushing between his fingers to his little sister beside him. The fear and the guilt in her eyes felt like a knife to his own heart. “Em, what did you do! ”
“Wolf!” Dune choked out, his voice a horrible gurgling noise. “Help me.”
Wolf’s gaze snapped back to his brother, and he stared, horrified at the death creeping into those familiar blue eyes.
He’d seen death fill the glassy eyes of dying deer and rabbits and antelope after he killed them.
He knew Dune was dying, even as he began shaking his head, trying to deny the truth in front of him.
“No, Dune! Dune!” He was sobbing now, his carefully made plans for emergencies scattered to the wind. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do!
Dune cut his eyes back to Em, but the fear that flashed across them didn’t fade.
He gave one more shuddering breath and went still, his blue eyes open and staring at their ten-year-old little sister.
Wolf followed his gaze, his entire body going numb with shock.
Em still knelt beside him as though frozen, staring at Dune with tears rolling down her face.
“Ember!” Wolf barked, and her eyes shot up to meet his.
Again, he couldn’t deny the horrible guilt filling her green eyes. He gasped in a breath to demand answers, but she bolted to her feet and ran.
It was something like instinct that had him scrambling up after her.
It sure as hell wasn’t his brain. His head seemed to go quiet and empty, like when he trailed his prey.
She was fast, but his legs were much longer, and he caught up to her in just a few strides.
He tackled her to the rooftop, not even feeling the pain as his arm scraped against the rough surface. She fought him like a panicked animal.
“What did you do! What did you do to Dune?” he screamed and pinned her to the ground.
She stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes, her tiny chest heaving with sobs, but she didn’t say a single fucking word.
If her behavior is not curbed, it will only grow worse.
“Emmy!"
He heard people coming, shouts and footsteps pounding across the roof toward them.
“What did you do!”
You must understand, Wolf. If you allow Ember’s willful spirit to fester, it will corrupt her very soul, and she will be forever lost.
Wolf wasn’t sure who pulled them apart, but he started fighting to keep them from ripping his sister away.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to protect Em or to force answers from her with his own two hands.
Then the enforcers were there, black robes billowing as they walked and faces hidden behind their black helmets, and everything seemed terribly real.
The enforcers hauled Em away without even speaking a word.
She sobbed, but she didn’t fight or scream.
Maybe she also felt that heavy weight of reality sinking in.
One of the inquisitors in his deep blue robes told him they were taking her to lockup.
Hands patted his shoulders, and concerned voices asked him questions, but he pushed past them to walk back and crouch beside Dune’s body.
The gash in Dune’s stomach was long and deep.
He’d taught Em to aim for the gut, to stab and jerk the knife through as many vital organs as possible. She’d always been a good student.
He stood and numbly walked to an empty corner, where he heaved up the contents of his stomach.
Wolf wasn’t sure how much time passed before Pa arrived.
He didn’t notice until a heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, startling him.
Pa stared at Dune, and pain etched into his face for a moment before it disappeared under the carefully crafted mask of the councilman.
The crowd thinned upon Pa’s arrival, and Wolf didn’t blame them.
Pa cut an intimidating figure on a good day.
He was tall and broad, and his greying blond hair made him look anything but feeble.
When he spoke, his voice was like quiet steel.
“What happened?” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand.
Wolf recounted everything he’d seen, realizing an inquisitor was recording the information.
Several more inquisitors crouched and lifted Dune’s body when he finished.
Wolf had a sudden insane urge to lunge forward and rip Dune’s body out of their gloved hands, but he swallowed it, watching them disappear with dry eyes.
“Come, Wolf.” Pa gripped his arm with almost bruising strength. “They want us to see her.”
The Ministry was an ugly, grey metal building in the city’s center that clashed with the soft red curves of all the adobe houses.
Wolf followed Pa down the hallway until they stopped before a cell.
He stared at the dirty straw floor where his little sister sat.
Her wide, terrified eyes stared up at them.
She was covered in dirt and blood, and it made her look like a wild animal.
“What happened?” Pa repeated his question to her, his voice and face hard.
“Pa, I didn’t kill him,” she whimpered. “I didn’t kill him,” she managed to say once more before she burst into sobs.
Wolf’s own eyes prickled at the sight of her looking so scared, stricken, and small. He wanted to wrap her in his arms; he wanted to shake her; he wanted to wake up and realize all of this was a terrible nightmare. He clenched his fists hard enough to feel his nails digging into his palms.
“Stop crying and tell me what happened, girl.” Pa’s voice was ice cold, making the hair on the back of Wolf’s neck stand up.
Pa rarely called Em by name. It had always struck Wolf as strange, but Pa was never the same after Mom died.
“He stabbed himself in the gut! I was tryin’ to help him!” Em seemed to try to stop crying, but her words tumbled out between panicked sobs.
Wolf glanced between the two of them, speechless as his mind spun. Pa’s expression didn’t change, but he could have sworn something like disappointment flickered across his features.
“I swear, Pa!” Em sobbed. “I’m not lyin’!"
The rage washed over him like a sudden sandstorm, blinding and sharp. “Why would Dune fucking stab himself in the gut?” he demanded. “That doesn’t make any sense. I saw you! He was pushin’ you away and beggin’ you to stop!"
Em jumped when he started yelling, but now she stared at him, those huge green eyes swimming in tears—Mom’s eyes.
“I didn’t,” she gasped. “I didn’t do it, Wolf. I swear! I was tryin’ to help him.”
Remember, a woman’s heart is deceitful above all things and easily swayed by the whispers of the world .
“You’re lying,” Wolf shouted, and she flinched.
He felt a sudden surge of bitter hatred with the red-hot rage.
Did Em think they would believe Dune stabbed himself?
How could she do this? Em and Dune had always been best friends, so much so he sometimes felt jealous.
He’d been her primary caretaker since Mom died giving birth to her, and they’d fought like cats and dogs as soon as she was old enough to talk.
Dune was different, though. Em had always loved Dune the most. It would have made more sense if Em had tried to stab him .
“Pa, please! Please look at me!” Em wailed.
“Come, Wolf.” Pa’s voice was cold and hard as he gripped Wolf’s arm again, trying to pull him away. “The council will decide what to do with her.”
If your sister persists in her behavior, there will be consequences.
Wolf jerked away, slamming into the bars of the cell so hard Em flinched backward and shrieked. “I don’t understand!” He was drowning in fury and desperation. “Tell me why you did it! Why would you kill him? He loved you!"
She didn’t answer, shaking with the force of her sobs. Pa gripped Wolf’s arm again, and he let Pa pull him away as his eyes filled with helpless tears.
Wolf didn’t sleep much that night, laying alone in their bedroom for the first time since before Dune was born fifteen years ago.
It was too quiet, and there was too much room.
Usually, all three of them were curled up on the pallet—Dune by the wall, Ember in the middle, and Wolf on the edge.
He hadn’t realized how comforting it was to hear his younger siblings breathing at night until they were both gone.
So, instead of sleeping, he alternated between silent sobs of grief and a furious simmering rage.
Yet as he lay awake in bed, watching the sky lighten with the dawn, he found himself more confused than anything.
Em was smart. Why wouldn’t she have a better cover story if she had killed Dune? Why didn’t she say somebody else attacked Dune? She had to know that would have been more believable. Had she just panicked and said the first thing that came to mind?
He couldn’t get Arbiter Eli’s words out of his head. A woman’s heart is deceitful above all things.
Em had to be lying. Dune would never have stabbed himself in the gut.
Their community was no stranger to people dying from self-inflicted wounds, but no one would choose to die from a gut wound like that.
As much as he hated hunting, Dune had done it countless times.
Wolf had taught him the quickest and most painless ways to kill an animal, and he’d supervised Dune doing it until his brother could do it without hesitation; besides, there was no way his brother wanted to die.
Sure, he’d been in a strange mood yesterday; however, Dune couldn’t tell a lie to save his life—not like Em.
Dune was so gentle and honest. Wolf was sure he would have noticed something if he had wanted to die.
Was Arbiter Eli right? Had Em’s willful spirit corrupted her soul?
Had she lashed out during an argument? Em had always hated that she and Dune didn’t get to do the same things.
She wanted to hunt and learn how to fight.
Maybe he should have let Pa give her to the Lopez family as a baby.
All the Lopez girls were quiet and obedient.
He knew Mrs. Lopez would have loved Em as her own, but the idea of losing his baby sister—his last piece of Mom—had sent him into a panic.
Pa hadn’t fought him on it. In fact, Pa washed his hands of Em the moment Mom died.
It had always been clear Em was Wolf’s responsibility.
He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. His responsibility and his failure.
The guilt felt like a physical wound in his chest. If only he had been stricter with Em. If only he had enforced her role in the divine order. Maybe if he’d been a better leader, Dune would still be alive, and Em wouldn’t be lost.
The door to the bedroom crashed open, and Wolf bolted upright to see Pa standing there, breathing hard.
“She escaped,” he said.
“What?” Wolf managed to choke out.
“She manipulated an idiot guard to let her out, and then she ran. She can’t be far—she’s in the city somewhere. We’re starting a search party, and we need you,” Pa snapped. “Get dressed.”
As Wolf scrambled to pull on his clothes, a horrible, numb acceptance settled over him. Ember must have done it. She must have killed Dune because innocent people didn’t run, and she had run twice.