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An arm gripped her in a headlock. “Where is he?” barked Wolfstrom.
Cricket had not scented him. His stench masked by the cloaking vaporo. She rasped. “Your son?”
“Yes, damn it.”
Talk about delusional. “Gone.”
Henrik stepped forward. “As long as we have her, he’ll return.”
Wolfstrom grabbed her hair yanking her head back. “Call him.”
“Fuck you.”
He drove a claw into her shoulder and dug in. “Scream.”
She winced, but remained silent.
“Henrik, show her what it feels like to have an earlobe cut off.”
“With pleasure.”
Cricket shifted and slipped from Wolfstrom’s grip. She could always count on her small size.
Henrik and Wolfstrom shifted and gave chase.
Maybe heading back toward the dock was not such a bad idea. Her shoulder where he’d stabbed her with his claw ached, but she ran driven by pure adrenaline.
Wolfstrom caught up quickly and grabbed her by the neck.
Cricket yelped. His fangs dug into her, and the scent of her blood dizzied her.
Slade broke his run and turned. “What the fuck!” Cricket. Nowhere in sight.
Nik snapped. “Hurry, I see the dock.”
“No.”
Nik whirled around. “Look, if they catch us we’re dead.”
“I’m not letting her sacrifice herself.”
“Once we reach your comrades, we’ll have a chance to rescue her.”
“I’m going back.”
“You are one crazy fuck. Go ahead.”
Gunshots echoed followed by frightening silence. Crap!
Her yelps shaded his good senses. Mine. He snarled in uncontrollable rage and raced to kill her tormentor.
Wolfstrom stood over a mound of bloodied fur. Abella!
Henrik raised his tranquilizer rifle and fired at him.
He dodged and the dart whizzed past him. Close.
Slade roared and charged Wolfstrom. They rolled in a furious clash for supremacy. Only the victor would leave the battle. Wolfstrom’s large muscular frame hammered him to the ground with brutal alpha power, brimming with Griswold’s insane strength.
