Winter felt the bodies around her shift, as they had when they first surrounded her and Scarlet. Moving almost imperceptibly closer. Tightening a knot.
“Too bad you did all that tampering with our brains,” said Alpha Strom. “Otherwise you could have manipulated us, right? Forced us to follow your command. Instead, you’ve turned us into a bunch of wild animals.”
“A pack of hungry wolves,” someone growled.
“Killers,” Winter whispered to herself. “Predators, all.”
They moved around Winter and Scarlet like water around a rock. Winter grabbed Scarlet’s wrist and tugged her close, their shoulders tight together.
“You didn’t make me to be good at math,” Strom continued, “but by my count, you couldn’t punish all of us, even if you wanted to.”
They had half circled around the thaumaturges, who were showing uncertainty now.
“Enough,” Holt snapped. “I order you to—”
The tension exploded before he could finish. The soldiers converged on their masters, mouths snarling and enormous hands ready to shred and claw and tear.
Like a sonic pulse, dozens of soldiers fell to the ground, writhing and grasping their heads. Knuckles whitened as they pressed their fingertips against their scalps, screaming in pain. The few left standing bounded over their fallen comrades with faces twisted in rage.
Winter flinched, watching as Alpha Strom, who had fallen in front of her, curled into a fetal position and screamed. But it was cut short, and replaced with retching and a whimper, his eyes shut tight as he tried to block out whatever was being done to him.
That whimper cascaded into Winter like a memory. Ryu behind her. The sound of Jacin’s knife. The warm, sticky blood.
Winter dropped to the ground and crawled toward Strom, rubbing her hands over his misshapen face, trying her best to soothe him. The tips of her fingers cracked, devastatingly cold.
The fight, if it could be called a fight, was over in seconds. Winter couldn’t recall the thaumaturges even having the time to cry out. There was the crunch of bones, the tearing of tissue, and it was over. A quick glance confirmed eight bloody bodies inside the cavern’s entrance, and a couple dozen soldiers standing over them, wiping the blood from their chins and digging the flesh from beneath their fingernails.
Winter’s breath fogged in the air. The cold was in her stomach too, icing over.
Her fingers were still in Strom’s hair when he suddenly grabbed her hand and threw it back at her.
Scarlet was there in a second, her elbows hooked under Winter’s arms, pulling her away. All around them, those who had fallen were recovering from whatever torment their masters had inflicted on them. Their faces were glazed from pain, but there was also a satisfaction when they noticed the dead thaumaturges.
Strom pushed himself into a crouch and gave his head a shake. His piercing gaze found Winter. She curled against her fiery friend, shivering.
Strom’s words were slurred when he spoke. “You have Lunar sickness because you cannot control people like they do?”
Winter glanced toward the thaumaturges, or what was left of them, and immediately regretted it. She looked down at her brittle fingertips instead. “Oh, I c-could,” she stuttered through her numb lips. “But I know what it is l-like to be controlled as m-much as you do.”
Strom stood, gaining his strength back faster than many of the others. He inspected Winter and Scarlet for a long while.
Finally, he said, “She will send more of her hounds to punish us for this. They will torture us until we are all begging before them like the dogs we are.” Though his voice was rough, a smile crept across his vicious mouth. “But to know the taste and smell of thaumaturge blood is worth it.”
One soldier howled in agreement and was soon joined by a chorus of howls, splitting through Winter’s ears and making the cavern tremble. Alpha Strom faced the regiment and there was a moment of celebration—fists clasping fists and howls that went on and on.
Winter forced herself to stand, though she was still cold and trembling. Scarlet stayed at her side, a pillar.
Winter’s voice was strong when she asked, “Are you now satiated?”
Strom turned back, and the raucous congratulations between his men began to fade. Their eyes still showed hunger as they raked over the two girls.
“Are your cravings filled?” asked Winter. “Is your hunger abated?”
“Winter,” Scarlet hissed. “What are you doing?”
She whispered back, “I am thawing out.”
Scarlet frowned, but Winter took a step away from her. “Well? Are you satisfied?”
“Our hunger is never satisfied,” one of the soldiers growled.
“I thought as much,” said Winter. “I know you still want to eat my friend and me, for what a juicy, tasty snack we would be.” She smiled, not as terrified by the prospect as she had been before. “But if you choose to help us instead, perhaps you will soon be feasting on the queen herself. And won’t her flesh be more satisfying than ours? More satisfying, even, than your dead masters in the doorway?”
A silence hovered over them. Winter watched the calculations behind their faces and listened to a few of them sucking on their teeth.
“Fight with me,” she said, when enough time had passed and neither she nor Scarlet had been devoured. “I will not control you. I will not torture you. Help me end Levana’s rule and we will all have our freedom.”
Alpha Strom met the eyes of a handful of the soldiers—the other alphas, she presumed—before fixing a penetrating look on her. “I cannot speak for the entire regiment,” he finally said, “but I will accept your offer. If you swear to never control us as they have done, my pack will fight for your revolution.”