Each truck’s cab is partitioned from the cargo area, which improves my chance of rescuing the shifters without being seen. But if there’s a window inside that partition and the guards are paying attention, this operation will quickly shift from search and rescue to tactical withdrawal. And the humans will hunt me with everything they have. They can’t afford for me to return with the location of facility #23.
I catch the scent of four shifters and five humans in the first truck, but I can’t make out how many humans are in the last truck, where Angelina is. Her scent is impossible to miss, as is her fear woven through it. But the humans have practically no scent.
My wolf nearly whimpers until I shut him down. A single sound can give us away. Marla never took that seriously. Damn her! Why did she take off like that without telling anyone… without tellingme?
A nip from my wolf refocuses me. Distractions are as deadly as sounds. I guess we’re each struggling.
Damien was right to hold me back. But he was wrong to assume Angelina worked for the WSSO.
Then again, I don’t have any proof of her innocence. Only questions.
Why can’t I smell the humans?I see two humans in the cab of her truck but I can’t see who or what is in the cargo hold. Her scent is the only one I detect, which makes no fucking sense.
I slink low and get close enough to finally pick up the humans’ scents. Two up front. None in back with Angelina.
Why leave her unguarded?
I circle around the back to the large roll-up style door. It’s not padlocked. More evidence that they don’t see her as a flight risk.
She’s working for them.
Hayden’s in my head again, even when he’s not here.
I push his suspicions out of my mind before they become mine. There’s an explanation yet. I just don’t see it.
The first truck’s halfway up the embankment. Once they clear the top, they’ll have an easy few miles to the facility. Fear, as dark as night, strikes me like a punch to the gut, and my wolf rages with the need to reach Angelina. If I go after the shifters in the first truck, the second truck will see me, and I won’t be able to free any of them.
Angelina, my wolf growls, as if there is no debate.
We rescue her, I decide, then she’ll help us free the others. Either way, we don’t have the luxury of time to debate. That first truck is nearly up the hill.
I shift to human form and crouch low, hoping the humans up front can’t see me as I slowly push up the roll-door only a foot, enough to peer inside. It’s light inside, which means there’s a glass partition for the guards. From this angle, all I can see are crates. Angelina’s scent says she’s here, but I don’t see her.
Carefully, I wedge my body under the roll door, slide through while holding the door up, then ease it back down. No noise, no sudden shift of weight to the truck. I’m in. And it’s fucking cold in here without any clothing on or my wolf’s fur to warm me. I don’t plan to be here long, though.
My eyes shoot first to the glass partition. I see the backs oftwo humans in the ten-inch-high, two-foot-wide window. Visual only, no access, and they haven’t spotted me.
I want to call out to Angelina, but I don’t dare. I stay low as I move past the crates. Boxes markedS41SprayandMasks. Those are questions for later.
When I make it to the front of the cargo hold, there’s nothing there except more crates chained down to bolts in the floor. Her scent is so strong, she has to be here.
My stomach sinks as I hone in on her scent. She’sinsideone of the crates.
“Angelina,” I whisper, hoping she’s conscious and can tell me which one.
Movement in the far corner of the truck catches my eye. The heavy tarp that’s draped over several crates is moving. When I peel away the tarp, I’m sickened by what I see. Angelina, naked, in a fucking dog crate that’s too small for a dog, even. Her torso’s bent in half, one arm trapped behind her and her head facing away from me. The hand that’s in front of her struggles to pull the tarp. She can’t even see that I’ve removed the backside of the tarp.
“I’m here. Gonna get you out.”
“You won’t leave me?” Her voice trembles with a half-cry she bites back. A deep swallow follows, then her voice evens out, still strained, but with more control. “They’ll catch you.”
I’d love to tell her evading capture is a specialty of mine, but right now my brain is firing in a million directions.
How to get her out without alerting the guards.
How long before they start up the hill.
What happens if I can’t get her out of this fucking dog crate…
