Labyrinth Wolves (Into the Labyrinth Book 2), page 1
Copyright © 2025 by Victoria McCombs
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THE LABYRINTH REMEMBERS ITS OWN.
IT WILL CALL HIM HOME.
BONE
BY
BONE
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
THE STORYTELLER’S SERIES
A collection of fairytale retellings for middle grade readers.
The Storyteller’s Daughter
Woods of Silver and Light
The Winter Charlatan
Heir of Roses
THE ROYAL ROSE CHRONICLES
A YA trilogy about the dangerous deep, tattoos that kill, bad deals with powerful men. A girl whose mother ruled the seas and a boy who used to sail for the king are both bound together on a journey to an island that shouldn’t exist.
Oathbound
Silver Bounty
Savage Bred
THE FAE DYNASTY
Eternal night, glass hearts, messages hidden in paintings, and a mortal girl who must trick each of the seven fae kings. My highest selling YA duology.
Mortal Queens
Lethal Kings
RUNE
A Nordic YA fantasy about the runt of a clan who Odin mistakes as his missing granddaughter. She will make deals with the gods to survive Asgard.
ROGUE SECRETO
An ancient Rome-inspired YA standalone about a girl who steals secrets with one glance. The emperor hires her to bring down his enemies. He lures the enemies to his doorstep with the promise of his daughter’s hand in marriage without realizing his daughter is the secret thief he just hired. And she has a secret of her own.
PREVIOUSLY ON QUARTER LABYRINTH
This is the second book in the series. I highly recommend starting with Quarter Labyrinth, otherwise some of the character’s choices in here will appear more questionable than they already are. For those who would like a quick recap, I’ll do my best.
Ren was waiting for her father, Gerald Montclair, to appear on her sixteenth birthday to reveal her to the world as the heir to the Silver Wings (his trade empire that holds the sole rights to trade among the most populated islands.) But instead, her father went missing. The rights to the Silver Wings (the ships) and the Shallows (nickname for the narrow waters surrounding the highly-populated islands) were the prize for the Quarter Labyrinth (which only appears every four years.)
Ren went to the labyrinth to earn her birthright.
Her best friend, Clark, went too.
Inside, they allied with some other kids to attempt to win. Many of them died. Harald and Tove threw their white stones of surrender to escape near the end, and Clark split from Ren shortly after because he couldn’t watch her fall in love with someone else.
Which brings us to Leif.
Leif is the son of Vincent, who is the second most successful merchant. He’s long wanted the right to the Shallows. Leif has been forced by his father to enter the labyrinth the past three times, even after his brother died inside. But Leif had an excellent ally in Dimitri, the king of the labyrinth. Dimitri is a Stone God. Dimitri promised Leif he will help him win if Leif kills the descendant of Dawson and Alicent (people from centuries ago that wronged Dimitri.) It’s through this plot that we learn Ren is one of their descendants, through her mother’s line. But Leif and Ren are two sides of the same coin, and seem unable to kill one another.
Much to Delilah’s dismay—another Stone God. Delilah promised Ren protection in the labyrinth if Ren sets Delilah free, which can only be done by spilling blood and trading a mortal’s life for the Stone Gods. Ren was meant to turn Leif into a Stone God to free Delilah, but she couldn’t do it.
Just when their romance heats up, Leif poisons Ren so she can’t keep distracting him. He goes on to find the center of the labyrinth, where he stabs Clark right before reaching the end. Leif has won the Silver Wings.
But Ren made a deal with the Stone God, Thief, and left the labyrinth to go steal the Silver Wings.
The Silver Wings are content with Ren, because they know who her father was.
Leif is furious that he won but can’t collect his prize.
And Clark, as he lay dying, pledged himself to Dimitri as his wolf.
Book two picks up a month after the end of book one. Enjoy.
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
TOVE
DON’T MISS THE LAST INSTALLMENT:
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ONE
I had to wait thirty-six days for the letter to arrive.
Ren, I’ve received your request. Will meet on the first day of Hollow’s Eve. Docks of Derin.
I noted three things. First, the blatant refusal to acknowledge my title—as if writing Captain Serenity would drain him of too much precious ink. My pride was worth far more than a few drops of ink, yet he wounded it all the same.
Second, the clipped, efficient phrasing. His handwriting was too meticulous, too deliberate to be the product of haste. The brevity was intentional.
Third, I would have to wait seventeen more days before Marcellus deigned to meet me.
“You’re in no place to push,” Jorin said, arms folded as he leaned against the cabin door. “The world didn’t even know you existed two months ago, and now you’re the wealthiest merchant in the Hundred Islands. Give merchants time to decide whether to grovel before you or mutiny.”
“Did they ever mutiny against my father?”
Jorin’s grin was sharp as a knife’s edge. He was getting on in his years, but his eyes had lost none of their shine. “All the time. Sometimes I thought he was holding this business together on stubborn willpower and naught else.”
I thought up a reply to the letter—shorthand, laced with choice words—but in the end, I never penned it.
I spent the next seventeen days attempting to convince the seas that they could still trust me enough to do business with the Silver Wings, even though Leif was spreading different stories. It helped that I held the only rights to the Shallows—the narrow seas going through the densest and most populated of the Hundred Islands. Over half my income came from trade through those islands, and I was the only merchant allowed to sail those waters.
But I quickly learned holding the Shallows did not mean I held the world.
And Leif, after I stole the ships he’d rightfully won during the Quarter Labyrinth, would stop at nothing to take everything from me.
Hollow’s Eve couldn’t come fast enough.
When the holiday at last arrived, I stood on the docks of Derin for three hours before Marcellus sailed in. He arrived in a powerful carrack, its sails full and proud against the gray horizon. The ship was a beast—three towering masts, a deep-bellied hull designed to swallow cargo, and high-built decks where sailors moved like restless shadows. Its dark wood was streaked with salt and age, barnacles clinging stubbornly near the waterline.
I narrowed my eyes, searching the figures gathered along the rail. Two people. That was all I needed to see. The ship creaked and groaned as the crew tossed ropes to the waiting dockhands while the scent of tar and damp timber thickened in the air.
“We have only thirty-eight minutes more,” Jorin said with a glance to his pocket watch. “Then we must be off to collect the shipment on Merry.”
Jorin had been my father’s first mate, and the one who stood in his stead as Captain of the Silver Wings during the past four years while my father has been missing. Now he served me, and he stood by my side as I defied both the Lord of the I
He was also the one who made sure I arrived everywhere on time, and that time was slipping away.
I wanted to say we would wait as long as it took, but the shipment waiting for us on Merry contained salt. Five ports were depending on it. And fourteen ports were waiting on the wares we’d pick up from those five ports.
It was a never-ending loop that I wouldn’t manage without Jorin to guide me.
“If we aren’t done in thirty-eight minutes, you travel to Merry yourself, and I’ll stay in Derin until our ships return next week,” I finally said.
Jorin shot me a look. “It’s not good for the Silver Wings to be without their captain for a week.” He didn’t add it, but I heard the shape of things unsaid. Especially now.
“Without Harald and Tove, I wouldn’t be here at all. I must stay.”
He let out a long sigh. Then nodded once. “I’ll stay too. Your mother will give me a scolding if I return to ship without you.”
That earned a smile.
He frowned in reply. “Thirty-seven minutes.”
I looked back to the ship.
The name Castello was painted in red on the side. Several hands lowered a plank, allowing a tall man to dock first. The lines of him were all straight, from the cut of his navy jacket to the trim of his beard to the shape of his mouth. His eyes found me at once.
I tried to look at ease, but my eyes kept wandering to the deck to search for Harald’s tall frame, or Tove’s bright smile. This was the ship they were enslaved upon. The man walking toward me was the one who’d sent them into the deadly labyrinth with the demand to win for him.
My blood heated.
Marcellus Jasper, captain of the Castello, stopped five paces away, gave me a deliberate look up and down, then glanced at his watch as if he were already bored.
Merchants all played the same game—pretending not to be interested in the young girl who inherited the wealthiest trade business as if their disinterest gained them an upper hand. But despite their aloof stares when we met, my desk was littered with inquiry letters from them all that bordered on begging.
They needed the Shallows. They needed me.
I donned my best smile. “Marcellus Jasper, it’s wonderful to meet you. This is Jorin, my first-mate. Brannic, Sorel, Tomas—my men at arms. Thank you for meeting with me today.”
“Your letter mentioned gold.”
I bristled. “Yes. You have two children working for you. I’d like to purchase their remaining contracts.”
He eyed me again. “You are a child yourself. The Silver Wings are being run by a girl of…what, sixteen?”
He’d guessed correctly. “They are being run by the daughter of Gerald Montclair.” I put emphasis on my father’s name. If the Silver Wings had been inherited by fresh blood, I’d allow them their scowls. But my blood was Montclair. Even if my father had been missing for four years, his name garnered respect. “As I said, I wish to purchase contracts from your crew. In return, I’m prepared to offer a thousand gold coins each, along with a fixed rate of twelve percent tax on imported goods with the Silver Wings. According to my ledgers, you hire my ships often.”
It was more than fair. I’d had to convince the Master of Accounts that Harald and Tove were an invaluable asset before he agreed to let me offer twelve percent.
Marcellus curled his upper lip as if the offer disgusted him. The chilly wind tugged at his coat, but he stood firm, feet braced wide on the worn planks of the dock.
“You think I’m running a charity?” His voice carried the rasp of a man who spent too much time shouting over the roar of the sea. “Two thousand each, or no deal.”
I crossed my arms. “A thousand is well above the standard rate. The younger is hardly twelve—she won’t be able to pull her weight for years.”
“And yet,” he said, a slow smirk curling his mouth, “you seem desperate for them. And I need the money. Two thousand each is the lowest I will go.”
There. A flicker of movement from the side of the ship caught my eye—Harald’s tousled blonde hair, Tove’s small frame pressed to the railing. They watched us with wary eyes while their fate hung on this exchange.
I let my smile sharpen, a blade honed on patience. “I might have agreed, had you shown up sooner. But since you took your precious time replying, scheduling the meeting, and bothering to drag yourself here, I can only assume you don’t need the gold as badly as you claim.” I let the words settle, the weight of them sinking in like an anchor dropping. “One thousand, and we can continue to work together on good terms. You’ll make up the other thousand coins on the lower tax rate I’m offering.”
The wind snapped between us, thick with salt and the distant calls of gulls.
“I have no use for the lower tax rate, seeing as I’m no longer working with the Silver Wings,” Marcellus said, his tone almost flippant, as if the words were of no real consequence. “Vincent is offering me better deals along his routes.”
The air flew from my lungs at the name. Vincent. Leif’s father. The man who had been circling like a vulture, waiting to pick apart the Silver Wings and claim them as his own.
“Besides,” Marcellus leaned in, his voice sinking into something conspiratorial. “Rumor has it Leif will be running the Silver Wings someday.”
“Lies,” I said coolly, though my pulse was a drumbeat in my ears. “Lies have it.”
Marcellus only smirked. I let my gaze drift to his hands, conspicuously empty.
“But you had no intention of selling the slaves today, did you?” I asked. “You didn’t bring their purchase papers.”
He spread his arms wide, palms open, as if to feign innocence. “Just wanted a chance to see the girl claiming to be a Montclair.”
I bit my tongue, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Jorin shifted beside me, his lips tight as if they were holding back whatever choice words he had for Marcellus. The distant groan of ships filled the silence until I could find my voice.
“And what do you think of me, now that you’ve gotten your look?” I asked, leveling him with a steady gaze.
Marcellus let out a slow, deliberate exhale, as if he were truly considering. Then, with a small, amused shake of his head, he glanced back toward his ship. “See those boxes? They are a new invention—ballistae large enough that two shots could bring down a small ship.”
I blinked.
As if he enjoyed my confusion, he grinned, then went on. “They fetch a large price, but it’s understandable why. With these on deck, pirates don’t stand a chance.” His eyes slid up and down the length of me. “You want to know what I think? You won’t need pirates to come after you, or ballistae to sink your ships. You’ll do that on your own. A child running the Silver Wings?” He barked a laugh. “You won’t last six months.”
I stepped back, suppressing the heat rising in my chest, and tipped my hat at him in mock courtesy. “We shall see.”
Jorin fell into step beside me without a word, though I caught the flicker of a question in his eyes. Behind us, Marcellus’s laughter split the air, but it was quickly swallowed by the sound of his crew unloading the ballistae. To him, I had been nothing more than a moment’s amusement—a girl playing at being a Montclair.
Let him laugh. I had no intention of proving him right.
It made me want to scream. It made me want to fight. But that would be proving his point, that I was a sixteen-year-old girl unfit for this role. Instead, I forced myself to act the way my father would want, and I walked away with whatever dignity I could scrounge up.
We reached the sleek ship that had carried us here, its hull gleaming dark and polished under the pale light. The scent of salt and tar curled in the air, the tide lapping against the dock in a steady rhythm.
I ignored the silent stares of our crew. They knew we had hoped to return with two more mates. Instead, we had nothing but the weight of Marcellus’s laughter clinging to our backs.
“How many minutes left?” I asked Jorin, my voice even.
He checked the small brass watch tucked into his belt. “Twenty-six.”
“Very well.”
I turned my attention to the crates being stacked near the bow and ran a hand along their rough wooden edges. My fingers traced the grain, counting the grooves as I counted the minutes, measuring the stretch of time between each breath. The sun sagged lower. It threw a golden glow over the water that made the waves turn bronze.
