Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) Read Free Page B

seeing on their own in a place like this, but now, they were all here, all ten of them, and together their faces morphed into an unholy collage of misplaced superiority and cruelty.
    The Black Wolf Pack, as they were properly known, was Oak County’s pride and joy. They were the regional champs at a sport known as “clash,” which was played throughout Thera. Their black handkerchiefs fluttered in the breeze under their stuck up noses and shark smiles.
    Gisbo recalled that there was a good reason for him being here, but with so much hot rage smoldering through his mind like a lava flow he couldn’t quite remember the specifics or why he had volunteered to face them all at once in the first place.
    “Gizzzy!” the ringleader taunted. Gisbo cringed at the tone in which his name was being said. “What? You don’t like your name, Gizzy? Well, I could call you by your last name, but mummy and daddy didn’t want to share it with you . . . didn’t want anything to do with you! I can understand, what with an idiot like you for a son,” sneered Thomson Ricard, son of Karm’s renowned General Ricard, and leader of the Black Wolf Pack.
    Gisbo said nothing. He only tossed aside his school bag and began to crack his knuckles and neck.
    “Wow, your big fat mouth got you into this mess and now you got nothing to say?” Thomson asked, stunned.
    Gisbo surveyed his competition. He took a moment to relish in the bruises and black eyes that he himself had inflicted upon Thomson’s band of savage wolves when he got them alone, all except for Thomson’s face. It was as clean as a fat man’s dinner plate. There wasn’t even a visible scratch. Today, Gisbo meant to fix that.
    “Well . . . that’s a frightening look,” Thomson said, as cool as a winter breeze. “I would almost think you wish to fight. Look around, dumbass! If you fight all of us, you may not walk again for some time and come to think of it . . .” Thomson mocked, cocking his head upward as if remembering something. “ . . . that would make it impossible for you to try out for Elekai’ training tomorrow. What a shame. That’s your big dream, isn’t it? Become an Elekai’ warrior? Cute. Well, let me be the one to burst your bubble there, Gizzy. When it comes to Elekai’, lineage is everything and you, buddy, amount to jack squat. Me, on the other hand, well, my dad’s General Ricard! I practically have it in the bag! So, let me tell you something he always says, something you should remember. Some were made to do great things, like me. Others were made to serve those who do great things, like you. You can’t fight destiny, Gizzy. We are who we were meant to be,” Thomson sneered. On cue, his cronies cackled like a pack of hyenas, impressed by their leader’s dagger-like tongue. Gisbo continued to stand in silence.
    “Hmph, what a stupid mutt! He’s so scared he can’t even respond to me, Heff,” continued Thomson. “Heff?”
    Thomson turned as Heff continued picking his nose in the deepest of concentration, smiling to himself with greed. Thomson replied with a swift backhand to the side of Heff’s head. Gisbo couldn’t help but laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. Seeing this enraged Thomson all the more.
    “You hear something funny, Gizzy? A dog like you wouldn’t last in a pissing contest!” Thomson jibed with an arrogant assurance.
    Gisbo took a few threatening steps forward as another voice sounded behind him.
    “Hey, Thomson, I’ve got his bag!” yelled Rowley as he began to dump its contents onto the dusty ground. He picked up a large storybook, looked at the cover with a scoff and chucked it deep into the forest.
    “Say goodbye to your wittle faiwytales, loser, it’s time you got a dose of reality,” snickered Rowley.
    Gisbo let fly an abundance of expletives as he watched one of his most prized possessions fly into the dark abyss of trees. He then turned and stared at Rowley with two crazed eyes. Suddenly realizing he