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“Hey love, you’re all right,” I say to her.
She tells me back the same. It’s what we’ve done for years when we’re scared. Her voice is calmer and more comforting than mine. She doesn’t seem to give a shit about their presence, which does wonders for my nerves. Thank God she’s being strong when I can’t. She squeezes my hand tight and smiles brightly at me. “We’re going to walk up there then walk right back down.” I force a small smile on my face and nod my head. Up and right back down. It almost sounds simple when she puts it like that.
“Head down,” I add for good measure.
I look back at the four men who are now on stage, standing in a row. The voluminous cloaks cover their bodies entirely and their faces are mostly concealed by their hoods. Standing with their broad shoulders squared and hands tucked behind their backs, they emanate sheer masculinity and dominance. I breathe out deep.
“I got you, babe.” She kisses the back of my hand, but doesn’t release it. It’s a good thing too because I don’t plan on letting go either.
Mr. Horga has started calling out names. Lizzie and I make sure to go to the back of the line since both our last names start with W. We’re dead last except for one older girl, a girl I recognize from school—I think she was two years ahead of us—who has the most vibrant red hair I’ve ever seen. She’s supposed to be in between Lizzie and me. We’ve never spoken to her before, only seen her around school but this redhead isn’t very talkative so we just keep to ourselves. Even though she keeps staring at our clasped hands like she’s desperate to take her place in between us, I plan on waiting till the last second to get behind her. I’ll be the final person to walk on the stage. My anxiety skyrockets.
“I wonder what they look like.” Lizzie’s curiosity knows no bounds, even if her voice is shaky. At this moment I couldn’t possibly be more grateful for the diversion and I’m damn sure to ignore the tremor in her tone. I need something to get me out of my head and so does she.
“We’re just going to be able to see their faces, and that’s only if you look directly at them. Which you should not.” I mutter my response. I’m not that bold. Glancing to the stage ahead of us, I see about half the girls have already filed through. Some of them approach confidently but all of them walk down the steps at the other end with their heads bowed, eyes glued to their feet. The stage is so long that there are at least ten girls on it at a time. The four shifters are spread out so that you’re never more than a few feet away from one. They’re just standing there like statues, not moving or saying anything. A chill runs down my spine. I’m no coward, but I plan on keeping my gaze down the entire time.
I can’t stand how tense it is, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Sherri said they all have a stick up their ass.” We’re getting closer to the stage and I swear my heart’s trying to leap out of my chest and escape. Swallowing is useless; my throat is suddenly dry.
“Do their faces look different from ours?” the girl who’s trying to get between us asks.
“I don’t think so.” I manage to get that out but then my chest starts heaving frantically as I see how close to the stairs we are. Lizzie finally takes her eyes away from the stage and places her hands on my shoulders while we continue to move forward.
“You’re all right, babe,” she says reassuringly. “Now tell me the same.”
“We’re fine, Lizzie. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, or to me. I promise.” I do a quick count and there are only four women ahead of us now.
“I love you, Lizzie.” Tears start welling up in my eyes. I have to tell her. Just in case.
Now there are three.
“We’re not saying goodbye,” she whispers, sounding hopeful and I nod.
Only two ahead of us now.
“I love you too.” She kisses my cheek as her name is called. I finally let go of her hand and immediately feel the loss.
Now one.
Breathe.
Miss Redhead walks up.
Breathe.
My name is finally called, marking the end of this year’s offering. It’s so close to being over. Just a few steps and it’s done.
Although I hear my name ringing in my ears, my body falters and my fingers and toes go numb. I force my shaky legs up the four steps and try to control my breathing. Licking at my dry lips, I grip the clutch dangling from my wrist tight in my hands like it can protect me. My heels make loud clicks on the metal stage as I walk, and I concentrate on the sound. I remind myself that I just need to take one step at a time and then it will all be over.
As I let out a small breath at the calming thought, three things happen at once: the werewolf I just passed starts walking off the stage, I feel a large hand on my back, and I hear Lizzie scream. My eyes shoot up to locate Lizzie but before I can run to her I’m pulled against a hard chest by a strong arm made of corded muscle. I’m held firmly in place as a scream tears up my throat. My fingers frantically work to pull the werewolf off of me, my nails digging into the large hand splayed across my belly, but it’s useless.
She’s still screaming, and I can’t even look at whoever’s holding me, I can only stare as Lizzie struggles to free herself. “Somebody help her!” I scream. Slamming my elbow against the wall of solid muscle behind me doesn’t do a damn thing. Panic turns my skin hot and chaos whirls around me. With all my strength I shove my weight forward, once again pushing away from the beast holding me while shouting her name.
“Lizzie!” I shout as my feet fly off the ground. The shifter restraining me has one arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me up as though I weigh nothing at all. His other hand cups the side of my head, bringing my ear to his lips. The forceful move makes my entire being instantly still.
“Calm her down,” his baritone voice whispers, and his breath burns hot against the shell of my ear. His tone is gentle, but there’s no doubt in my mind that his words are a command. My mind finally registers what he’s said and I take in the scene as if in slow motion. The stage is now empty except for the shifter holding Lizzie, who’s fighting like crazy with tears streaming down her red face, and me. Blocking the stairs on either side of the stage are the other two shifters, who act as guards.
Not a soul in the crowded stadium is moving from their position in the least. No one is coming to help her. It’s only me. The only humans even remotely close to us are Mr. Horga, who’s on the grass where I was just standing moments ago, an expression of complete shock etched on his face, and Miss Redhead. She’s huddled in a ball on the side of the stage where she’s been allowed to go and venture off. Everyone is silent from both terror and surprise while Lizzie is shrieking and crying, held tightly to the mammoth shifter’s chest. Her fists beat against him, not doing any good, but the werewolf allows it, making no move to stop her. It’s useless and he lets her waste her strength.
After repeating his command, I’m slowly released by the beast of a man holding me. I nod and the tears that had gathered in the corners of my eyes slowly trickle down my face while quiet sobs rock my body. Not Lizzie. Not my best friend. They can’t take her. The realization finally hits me as I’m lowered. They’re taking Lizzie. As soon as my stilettos touch the ground, I dart over to her, the trance broken. I wrap my arms around the part of her torso I’m able to reach, the part not restrained.
