Page 76 of Break Out the Girl

This is a shit ton of security.

How the fuck are we going to get inside, find Sky, and get out again without being seen? I’m sure, physically, London and I could take down several guards, but this kind of fire power is too much. We’d be fucked.

London prods me, pointing to an ATV that is rumbling out from the woods on the other side of the driveway.

Could we grab some guards? Take their uniforms and bluff our way in?

The ATV keeps heading towards the brick bridge-station. It's towing a heavy metal trailer, and as it gets closer I can see it’s loaded with metal fence poles and thick rolls of wire fencing. There are several muddy shovels stowed as well.

When the ATV rolls to a stop, London and I finally get a little more intel.

The bridge guard with wire-rim glasses steps forward. “All done?”

“Yeah, no sweat. Everything running like fucking clockwork,” the driver replies. “Here, Bragger, you got a smoke?”

The second bridge guard, who must be Bragger, tosses him a packet. “Heard it was quite the party last night. I wouldn't be surprised if they start late.”

“Fuck man,” the ATV driver grumbles, lighting his cigarette. “That’ll change the timing of everything. The clock is already ticking.”

The glasses guard looks over his shoulder at the Manor. “Have you ever known the Director to not have the hunt running on time? That’s one scary bitch. Even if you do pay a million dollars to come here, I can’t imagine she’d hold up proceedings for a couple of hangovers.”

“True,” Bragger laughs. “And I’m sure if they do a line, or some fucking magic potion, they’ll soon be raring to go again.”

The driver throws his half-smoked cigarette into the bushes close to me and London. “I’d better go, don’t want Madam Director to set Whipper on me.”

Bragger chuckles. “Not wrong there, man.”

Whipper? Madam Director?

Before the driver can pull away, a second ATV comes bouncing out from a different trail in the woods. The back rack of this one is a long ladder, and several black plastic cases.

“What’s up, dudes,” he calls out, skidding to a stop. Bragger gives him a high five. “All the cameras should be online, can you check?”

A digital tablet is pulled out and the men circle around it. “The feeds look clear. Nice,” Bragger comments. “I’ll start a pool, $20 minimum, but it closes as soon as the chase goes live.”

All four men wander into the small brick building, talking over each other about odds, runners, prize money.

OK. What the fuck?

We have security cameras up and a live stream to show what? A hunt?

I suppress a snarl. I’ve a very dark feeling about what the rich assholes are going to be hunting. I don’t think it’s wild turkeys. And that one man said ‘the clock is already ticking’.

What does that mean?

First things first; finish the recce. I slink on my belly down under the bridge to the moat. London follows. From here we should be hidden from everything, so I take a moment to shift back.

“Thoughts?” I ask the faun.

London cocks his head on one side. “They talked about a hunt, right? So if everyone is coming out of the big house for the hunt, maybe we can shimmy inside during that? Or do we even need to get inside if everyone is coming out? Do we think little Sky will be brought out too?”

Good questions.

The house itself is like a fortress. Moat, armed guards, only one way in and out.

But if the Elite pricks are out in the woods, it evens the playing field. We can take some captives and torture the fuck out of them to find where the girls are kept.

In shifted form we start our retreat, but something stops me. A deep growling that makes my wolf-blood heat.