Drake laughed cruelly. “Hey, Pack Leader. You guys won’t eat the kids, will you?”

To Mary’s astonishment, the large, mangy coyote spoke. “Pack Leader agreed. No kill. No eat.”

“Until . . . ,” Drake prompted.

“Until Whip Hand say.”

Drake beamed. “Whip Hand. That’s their affectionate name for me.”

Isabella, who had shrunk back into a corner, came forward with her hand extended, like she wanted to pet Pack Leader. “He can talk,” Isabella said.

“Stay back,” Mary hissed.

But Isabella ignored her. She laid her hand on Pack Leader’s neck. The coyote bristled and made a low rumbling noise. But he did not snap at her.

Isabella stroked his harsh ruff. “Good doggie,” she said.

“Just don’t get too close,” Drake said coldly. “Good doggie may get hungry.”

Gone, Chapter 42