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They had me now. A helpless drunk girl, all alone. No phone, no way of calling for help. They would have the pleasure of absolutely destroying my body while my father bumbled around in the bar next door, looking for me. The thought delighted them all.
“Alright!” With whoops and hollers, the other werewolves clambered to their feet. “Let’s go!”
“Awesome.” I grinned, feeling my pulse slow. The scent of the hunt filled my nostrils; goosebumps rose on my skin. “Lead the way.”
I walked out, sandwiched in between the group of werewolves. I didn’t turn to look at Cherry, but I knew she was watching me.
Just before I walked out the door, I heard her call my fake name, her voice tinged with desperation. I ignored her.
Chapter Seven
“Watch your head there, baby.” Jeff pushed his hand on the back of my head, forcing it down far further than it needed to clear the low doorway of the shed. “In here.”
I stumbled inside. The building was squat, with a steel door, thick concrete walls and a low ceiling, obviously purpose built for illegal dog fights. An overhead light cast a harsh direct beam over the sunken ring. The bare concrete floor was stained brown with old blood. The air was musty and smelled foul.
I wrinkled my nose. “Someone needs to open a window in here.”
There were no windows. The wolves laughed. “Dump the goose in the ring, Terry,” Jeff ordered. “We might as well have a little pre-show entertainment.”
I blinked at him, my eyes wide and guileless. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, baby,” he chuckled roughly.
The werewolf Terry opened a gate in the barrier surrounding the pit, bent down, dropped the crate carelessly in the ring with a thud, whipping off the blanket at the same time. The goose hissed in outrage, bristling, his beautiful feathers filling the cage completely.
Through the door behind me, another one of the werewolves brought in two enormous pit bulls. Jesus, those things were massive—one tan, one dark brown, both with huge dribbling maws and thick slabs of muscle on their heavily scarred shoulders.
My skin prickled for a moment, the echo of an old terror. I’d been hunted with dogs before. I forced my panic down.
Terry pushed the dogs through the gate into the pit, a five-foot drop down, then he knelt on one leg, and hit a spring-loaded latch on the cage with his foot. He pulled himself up and quickly swung the barrier gate closed. The pit was deep, and the barrier came up to my chest. None of the animals were getting out in a hurry.
The crate swung open. The werewolves all cheered and took their places around the ring, their faces disappearing into the shadows.
Jeff moved behind me, pushing me up against the barrier with his hands on either side of me. He pressed into me with his crotch, taunting me a little. Turning my head slightly, I gave him a puzzled look, and he smiled back, licking his lips slowly.
He wanted me to start feeling uneasy now. Jeff was drawing this out like an expert, waiting for that delicious moment when I finally realized how much trouble I was in. He savored the anticipation, knowing that very soon, I’d start to panic.
Don’t hold your breath, Jeff. I turned around and looked back down into the ring.
The goose stepped out of the crate, ruffling those magnificent feathers, making himself appear as large as the pit bulls. He was so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring; for a long moment I forgot where I was, and what was about to happen.
The fight began.
The brown dog lunged immediately, the battle goose met his strike and slashed with his beak. A stripe of red opened up on the dog’s muzzle. She let out a yelp and backed away, circling more warily. The tan one leapt towards him. In a lightning-fast movement, he struck out with his feet, ripping a small slice in her belly.
I couldn’t let this happen.
My eyes scanned the room quickly, assessing everything in one quick sweep. The deep pit below, illuminated by the spotlight hanging above us. The snarling dogs, more wary now, circling the goose, who stood, razor-sharp wings held wide, letting out a low hiss that sent a chill down my spine. The four other werewolves, still firmly in human form, cheering and hollering, shrouded in darkness, standing in a circle around the five-foot wooden barrier of the pit. Behind me, Jeff, pressing his revolting hardness up against my spine.
One door. One way in and out.
Things were going to get messy. In the back of my mind, I could hear my handlers curse at me. If they were still here, I’d be punished for being so reckless. If this was a job, the only option would be retreat quickly and melt into the night outside.
There were only two rules. Don’t blow your cover, and don’t leave a mess.
I never left a mess. That was how you got caught.
Jeff rubbed his erection up against me again, a little harder this time, and mentally, I shrugged. It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t care. It was only an hour drive to Castlemaine. In the morning, my list would be complete, and I’d be dead.
