Nestan crouched in the thick coverage of the Kladian jungle. Caj and his father’s soldiers had spread out, but he knew they wouldn’t go far. Not far enough for him to escape.

If Nestan had any semblance of his previous sense of humor, he would have laughed at his life now, which felt like a cruel joke. Instead of being with Gerrit, his cousin and best friend, and grieving the death of Alpha Kaveh, he was out here with his father, the man who had killed the very same Alpha. But that younger, more naïve version of Nestan, who’d laughed with Gerrit and flirted with pretty Vilkan women, was gone. He hadn’t laughed in half a year.

Hadn’t smiled either.

The damp ferns a few feet away from him rustled, sending drops of water springing off the broad leaves. He picked up the spear he’d crafted at the makeshift camp his father used as home base for his rebel followers. Just the thought of getting a kill today sent his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. Under his father’s rule, Nestan only ate what he killed.

From Nestan’s flank, another rebel Vilka slid into view, moving silently on wolven paws, leading the way as he caught the scent of their prey. The hunting pack worked together as a unit, moving in tandem, but Nestan remained on the outskirts in his two-legged form, watching for smaller mammals or rodents he might kill himself. The big game would be shared with the new pack, but not with him.

Father said it made him strong to starve. To go hungry. To wither away. Father said pain made it easier to get in touch with his inner beast.

But Father said a lot of things that were bullshit.

While the others were distracted by a rustle high in the trees, Nestan moved farther into the thick foliage and down toward a stream, which would mask his scent.

For most of his life, he’d lived in Clan Vilka’s hollowed mountain. With its vast tunnels, sweeping caverns, and underground rivers, it had always been home to him. But he couldn’t deny the beauty of the jungle. It soothed him to come out here now, to get away from the raucous howls of Father’s rebels and the smell of raw, rotting meat. Out here, beneath the dew-laden canopy, he could breathe a little deeper.

He crouched beside the fast-moving stream and dipped his hand into the cold, clear water. After a few sips, he looked around, water dripping from the ends of his beard.

On the other side of the bank, large paw prints indented the black sand.

Nestan stepped into the rushing water. It came fast, but the stream was shallow, allowing him to cross quickly and without much noise. He climbed up the steep bank, his toes sinking into the fine black sand.

He glanced back over his bare shoulder, his long dark hair swinging against his back, and held his breath. Father’s loyalists must have noticed he was out of range; he had to move quickly.

Yet the perpetual question hung in the air like a thick fog as he considered the prints trailing forward through the jungle’s ground cover. Did he run or did he hunt? He needed to eat. Even he could see the changes in his body, how his ribs jutted out and his stomach collapsed in on itself. He needed food to be strong enough to escape, but he needed to escape if he hoped to live much longer.

He tracked the paw prints farther down the stream until they disappeared into the foliage up the bank. A snapjaw tree with heavy double leaves hung bent like a crooked nose over the stream. A good place to hide, the snapjaw created its own cave beneath its greenery. If the animal who had left behind the prints was hiding from the hunting party, it would seek shelter here.

If he ate now, he could escape later when he was strong enough to run.

Nestan plunged forward, his decision made.

With his spear raised over his head, he whipped back the giant leaves to find a sleek, black Katu cowering near the trunk. From her scent, she was a female. Young. Terrified.

Nestan froze.

She was exactly what Father had sent them out to find. Katu pelts were warm and soft, and their meat was said to be tender, but the thought of eating another shifter made Nestan’s stomach turn. Even in their panther state, the Katu were no different from the Vilkas. There was a person within their second form.

People with families, friends, mates.

The Katu looked up at him with large, yellow eyes, and a low growl began in her throat.

Nestan slowly put down his spear.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he murmured, holding his hands up and stepping closer, so the snapjaw leaves closed him in with the increasingly agitated Katu. “But the others here with me are hunting Katu.”

Her yellow gaze flashed over his shoulder before returning to his. She swiped at him with unsheathed claws, which were longer than a Vilka’s and glinting in the dim light. The gesture would likely be his only warning before she attacked.

“I’m not with them. I mean,” he said, correcting himself as the sour thought occurred, “I am, but not willingly. Listen. You aren’t safe here.”

The Katu whimpered, and with a ripple of shining fur, shifted before him, turning into a beautiful young woman, her stomach full and round. She was pregnant.

“I can’t run,” she whispered, body still crouched and prepared to pounce if necessary. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her unborn child.

Nestan raked his calloused hand over his face. His head spun from hunger and worry. “I can’t fight them all. They are killing Katu for pelts and meat.”

“We know,” she whispered, her gaze slipping behind him again. Her skin was a deep, rich brown, her hair dark and sleek like her pelt, and even in her human form, her eyes were yellow. Bewitching. Nestan would have found her attractive before … before he’d become this shell of his previous self.

“I was separated from my mate, and I’m too slow to run.”

“Can you climb?” Katu were known for skirting above the canopy only to drop down on unsuspecting victims. They didn’t much care if they ate shifters or anything else. In fact, Nestan didn’t think he’d ever seen one in human form before.

“Not quietly. I’m a bit … off balance.” Chuckling darkly, she rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I imagine I’d be quite the prize for you Vilkas.”

“These men aren’t who the Vilkan are. This is—”

The sound of leaves crunching nearby sent both Nestan and the pregnant Katu to the ground. She bared her teeth, and he grabbed the makeshift spear, prepared to fight if he had to. Killing Katu was bad enough, but killing a pregnant woman? He wouldn’t be a part of that, no matter how much it would please his father.

“Nestan?” Caj called out, his voice dangerously close to the snapjaw tree.

Caj was Gerrit’s younger brother and the son of a mistress. Illegitimate in the most important way: he’d never be Alpha. He carried that chip on his shoulder like a boulder from the Draqon mountains.

“Where are you, you little shit? Trying to run away? Savas will love that. Maybe he’ll let me whip you this time.” Caj paused, sniffing the air no doubt. “We scented a Katu bitch. Might be carrying a cub, because there’s a strange second scent. Get your ass out here, so I don’t have to muddy myself coming after you.”

Nestan pressed a finger over his mouth.

The Katu shook her head, but he had to go. The longer he stayed hidden, the more likely they were to look for him and find her.

He crept around the trembling Katu and exited from the back of the snapjaw’s leaf cave. He could double back to come out farther down the river bank from where she hid. It might be enough to draw Caj away.

Nestan carefully laid the leaf back in place and turned around to creep away.

Caj stood casually, a gun hanging from his shoulder, waiting for Nestan to appear. “I knew you wouldn’t run away. Where would you go? Think your precious Alpha, your friend, would take you back now?” With a sneer, he climbed back up the riverbank.

Nestan chanced a peek behind him while Caj chattered on about how Gerrit would never take a clan deserter back. A sleek, black body pushed silently through the underbrush, away from the hunters.

Nestan sighed in relief, grateful for once that Caj was an idiotic, spoiled prince who hated standing in mud a second longer than he had to.

When he and Caj rejoined the hunting group, the rebels had shifted into their human forms. Beneath the jungle’s green tinted light, their naked skin shone with sweat and spatters of blood. They’d found a kill. And eaten it raw.

“We lost that Katu bitch,” Caj whined. “I’m hungry. Did you save me any meat?”

Felks, Father’s Beta, sniffed the air as Nestan and Caj closed in. His black eyes narrowed at Nestan. “You were with her.”

Caj’s head whipped toward Nestan. “What? No. I found him by the river. He was hiding like a human female.”

Felks sneered at the royal Vilka. Like Nestan, Caj had no friends in the new rebel pack. Only Father favored the young man for his blood-thirsty psychosis and for the fact that it hurt Gerrit immeasurably to know his little brother was under Savas’s wing. “You don’t smell it on him?” Felks laughed. The others joined in. “He reeks of cat. What kind of Vilka are you?”

Ignoring him, Caj rounded on Nestan, who stood still, offering no excuse or defense.

“Where is she?” Caj demanded, growing red in the face. “Do you have any idea what a prize a pregnant Katu would be?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

Caj backhanded him, hard, but not hard enough to move even Nestan’s weakened body. Nestan had always been bigger than the other Vilka, another fact Caj used to fuel his hatred.

“Tell us where she is, you Hyla-fucker!”

Nestan shook his head and stared into the younger man’s blue eyes, watching them twist with hate and resentment. Caj had become a mockery of what his father, Kaveh, had stood for. Quietly, so only Caj would hear, Nestan said, “Your father would be so disappointed in you.”

With a howl, Caj swung the barrel of his gun toward Nestan’s head.

Nestan landed a solid punch to Caj’s side. Before he could land another, Felks and the other rebels pounced, knocking Nestan to the ground. Boots kicked him in the stomach and back, a relentless downpour of blows, until finally, Caj slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Nestan’s head, sending him into blackness.

* * *

Nestan woke to the sound of discordant voices—a horrible harmony of cruel laughter and crying women.

“It’s about time you got off your ass and did something useful,” Savas sneered down where Nestan lay. He’d been deposited at Father’s feet, where he’d certainly receive another punishment, likely worse than the one Caj and the rebels had dished out.

He sat up slowly, his head aching and his vision still blurred with black spots. He couldn’t feel the injuries he’d surely sustained. Yet. And he knew there wasn’t going to be any food for him again today. Depression nipped at his heels, and he wondered if it would be better to just antagonize Father or Caj enough that they would finally kill him.

“Father—” Nestan began, but the expression on the man’s face made the words dry up in his mouth.

Slowly, Nestan turned his pounding head to follow Father’s gaze. In the open area, next to the small camp they’d erected near the cliffs of Sandiv, a gathering of filth-encrusted women stood with shoulders hunched and bodies shivering, tied together and surrounded by Vilkas with guns.

A dark-skinned Hylan male with shining purple scales covering his legs approached the dais where Savas reclined. Nestan sat up straight, trying to hide his wince of pain. What was Father doing trading with the Hylas? It was bad enough he was involved in the flesh trade without involving these serpents.

“Savas, these women aren’t fit for mining let alone to serve as concubines. What kind of flesh trade are you running?” The dark man framed his question with a sinister smile, exposing his sharp little teeth.

“They are human.” Savas shrugged. “They all look weak and sick.”

“No, there is something wrong with this batch. Did you inspect your merchandise? The stench of decay has already taken over. They won’t last long enough to make it to the Vydal.”

Savas stood, his fists clenched. “Our agreement with the humans is for prime samplings of the species, they have never provided less than such before.”

Agreement? Nestan tried to keep his expression deadened as he watched Father stride toward the women and sniff the air before grabbing one with long, black hair and yanking her against his chest. He dragged his nose along her cheek, promptly scrunching up his face and throwing her to the ground.

“Do you see what I mean?” the Hyla spat. “They’re filth!”

“Merick, my apologies. I will have our contact with the humans informed that this is unacceptable.” Savas turned his back on the human women and waved one hand at their huddled, dirty bodies. “Burn them. They are of no use to us.”

Horror spread cold and hard through Nestan’s gut at Father’s words. He knew his father traded in flesh, especially women. He’d seen them come in and out of the camp during his time here, but he couldn’t even save himself, much less an incoming flood of women.

But this—burning them—was too much.

Father couldn’t be this far gone. Not yet. There had to be something good left inside of him.

“Father!” Nestan pulled himself, swaying, to his feet. “You can’t kill people for being ill.”

“Yes,” Felks interjected, “better we should take advantage of the meat while it’s still fresh. We can roast them slowly, so it falls from their bones.”

Nodding, the Hyla named Merick licked his lips.

“No.” Savas’s voice sent everyone around him back a pace. “If they are diseased we will not risk becoming ill ourselves just for one good meal. Another shipment will arrive soon. Merick, you are welcome to stay until then, or we can send the next batch to you directly.”

“After seeing this, I’ll certainly have to inspect every crop personally from now on.”

Savas narrowed his eyes at the Hyla but didn’t counter him.

Felks directed the men to build a fire with the underbrush surrounding their camp, building it up with dried logs. It quickly blazed high, scorching out the late afternoon sun with the addition of tar from the deep crags near the ocean.

Nestan watched the flames lick higher, his heart pounding. He grabbed his father’s arm. “What are you doing? This isn’t right. We don’t burn women alive!”

Whirling, Savas backhanded Nestan. “Get off me,” he hissed. “You’re an embarrassment. Caj!” he called to the young royal.

“Yes, sir?” Caj asked, trotting over.

“Watch him.” Savas spat at Nestan’s feet. “Don’t let him embarrass me further.”

Caj smiled, slow and menacing. “Of course.”

As Savas strode toward the fire, Caj turned his smile on Nestan. Before he could react, Caj struck, knocking his feet out from under him and sending him to the ground again. “You’re lucky you aren’t burning with them, you traitor.”

“Stop this,” Nestan pleaded. “It’s not too late.”

Caj grabbed Nestan’s long hair and jerked him up to kneeling. “Watch what happens when people disobey. You let that Katu bitch go. I know you did. So, you have a soft spot for pretty women? Well, now you can watch these burn.”

He struggled against Caj’s hold, lunging away with no plan for what he’d do, but needing to do something, to act, to stop this. What had become of these Vilkas, of the proud people he loved? Father’s insanity had corrupted them all.

When Savas approached the women to grab the first to throw into the flames, a curvy blonde woman whom Nestan would never have pegged as a fighter rushed forward, a blade in her hand. She was no longer bound like the other women and certainly didn’t appear to be sick. Actually, her golden skin was flushed beneath the dirt on her face and clothes, her bright eyes burning with wrath.

She screamed a battle war cry that pierced the camp.

Her fists and legs blurred as she attacked. His father, not expecting any resistance, backed away from her well-executed strikes, a scowl on his face.

“What?” the young woman growled. “You can’t take a hit?”

Savas laughed as she feigned to the side, coming in to throw a powerful punch. Sidestepping the blow, Savas grabbed her wrist in his massive hand, wrenching her around and tossing her to the ground.

Her head smacked against the hard-packed dirt of the cliffs. For a horrible moment, she was still.

Above her, Savas loomed. He turned to glance back at Nestan, a smile pulling at his scarred face.

Nestan thrashed against Caj’s hold, snarling and growling.

Still smiling, Savas shouted, “Burn this one first!”