by Lauren Dawes
Unwilling to watch, but equally unable to look away, she forced herself to witness the woman’s death. It only seemed right, considering she had been the one to give up her body to feed all of them.
The jaguar split open the human’s stomach and started to feast on her organs. Katie should’ve been horrified, and honestly she was, but that wasn’t the only emotion that bubbled up inside her. The most shocking one was jealousy and possessiveness.
She was hungry.
She wanted to be the one eating.
But what did that make her? Just another monster like the human men who had abducted all of them. The scent of spilled bowels and blood permeated through the basement, but the jaguar still ate, gorging herself. Idly, Katie wondered what the men would do when they found them both—one nothing but black fur and a pissed off attitude, and the other imitating a puddle.
She drifted her attention up when boots hit the floorboards above, walking in the direction of the basement door. The jaguar hissed into the gloom, protecting her kill, even though nobody had made a move closer to her. Would they force her to shift back? She couldn’t imagine them being okay with a caged weapon—that was if they even knew what they were. Then again, they were all caged weapons, weren’t they? Except, instead of being able to function normally, they were all hamstrung by circumstance. Starvation caused weakness, not just in their human bodies, but also in their cats. That female must’ve used the last of her reserves to shift, but the reward had been great.
Katie squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to stop the sounds of hurried chewing, of bones crunching and muscle ripping. The door to the basement swung open, and a curse floated down the stairs.
Suddenly, light flooded the room, and Katie shielded her face with the sudden onslaught. She got her first good look at Elsie, committing the female’s face to her memory. If she was right and they weren’t getting out of there, she wanted someone to remember her.
Then her eyes went over the massacre that had been committed because there was no other option. Survival was survival, and the will to live was only slightly easier when you had a side to your body that enjoyed the taste of raw meat and spilling fresh blood.
She forced herself to look at everything. The human girl’s face was a mask of horror. Her death had been terrifying, and it showed. Her throat was missing and blood covered her from her neckline down. The bottom of her shirt was ripped, slashed apart by claws, and her stomach was open and congealing. It had been a quick kill—a merciful kill, really—and the eating had been done with both speed and care, given that no other part of her had been touched.
Listening to it, though, it had been horrific. Seeing it in full color made her realize that although the female hadn’t wanted to kill the woman, she did because it was the raging hunger of her beast that had demanded it.
Boots thundered down the treads, coming to a stop. A man she’d never seen before glanced around, his eyes fixing on the cell floor filled with blood.
“Goddayumn!”
He turned and rushed up the stairs, returning a few moments later with Cowboy. Katie fixed her stare on the little river of blood that was now inching its way to the drain in the middle of the floor.
“Ho-ly shit,” Cowboy drawled, drawing out the syllables.
“She ate her. The bitch ate her,” the other man breathed.
“I think you’re forgetting that some of these women aren’t women, Ricky,” Cowboy replied, his tone bored.
Ricky lifted his cap off his head to wipe away the sweat. “Yeah, but I…” He hesitated. Swallowed. “I didn’t think they’d eat one another.”
Cowboy’s eyes gleamed as they caught the light, and the sight of it made Katie’s shoulders stiffen. They’d gleamed, like a cat’s. She inhaled to catch his scent, but blood was saturating her senses.
“What’s Boss going to say?” Ricky asked, crouching down in front of the cell, cocking his head to the side as he sized up the jaguar still crouching in front of her kill. She hissed at him, her huge fangs stained with blood, red-tinted saliva dripping from her jaws.
“Don’t get too close, asshole,” Cowboy warned.
Ignoring the warning, Ricky shuffled a little closer, and the jaguar’s ears flattened against her skull, her tail swishing impatiently. Her green eyes were fixed on him, filled with the instinct to defend her kill at all costs. Another growl vibrated from her throat, and Ricky laughed, waving his fingers in her direction.
Faster than Katie thought possible, the female swiped at him through the bars, her claws digging into the muscles of his forearm and tearing them from the bone. Ricky’s howl of pain echoed around the room as he slapped his hand over the gushing wound. Blood fell freely from between his fingers, dripping onto the floor at his feet.
She jumped when there was a loud bang, the sharp smell of gunpowder accompanying the gunfire. The jaguar collapsed in a boneless heap, mere inches from her kill. Stunned, Katie turned her head to find Cowboy holding the gun, smoke still barreling from its end.
Reaching behind him, he holstered the weapon and said to Ricky, “Clean this shit up.”
Katie awoke to the sound of her cell door opening. Keeping her eyes shut and breathing even, she waited for whoever had come in to take their pick. She expected it to be her. So far, she’d remained untouched, and it was only a matter of time before that changed. Heavy footsteps came closer, but it was the shocked gasp that made Katie’s eyes open.
Ricky was removing Elsie from the cell. His whole forearm was bandaged up, and he held it gingerly at his side as he used his gun as a traffic wand. Katie darted her gaze to Elsie, who seemed to be working on autopilot, moving when told, stopping when told. The cell door shut with a clang behind them, and then another across the room opened.
Katie didn’t understand what was going on or why Elsie had been moved, but she began to shiver as the reality that she was alone began to sink in. She shut her eyes tightly and prayed for the end to come quickly. Waiting like this was torture. Not knowing was torture. Death would be a release she had no right to hope for.
* * *
Some hours later, at least she thought it was hours, the door to her cell opened once more, and she fought the urge to cringe. Forcing herself to remain still, she waited for the hand to reach for her. She waited for the pain and suffering. Instead there was a small thump, and the cell door shut. When the footsteps ebbed away and the basement was once again silent, Katie opened her eyes and sat up. On the bare concrete, mere feet from her, was a bundled form.
Katie merely watched her for a moment before getting onto her hands and knees and inching herself closer. She reached out and touched the shock of black hair that was falling out of a set of pigtails. Her eyes skimmed down her body, looking for any signs of abuse, but her clothes were intact, her jeans whole, and her running shoes still on her small feet.
Biting her lip, she reached out and touched the girl on the shoulder, rolling her over onto her back. She got a good look at her face then, the freshness of youth written all over her. Jesus, she was so small, probably only about ten years old. One inhale confirmed she was also a shifter, but where had she come from?
The girl’s eyes fluttered open then, slowly, like she was waking from a pleasant dream. That sense of ease didn’t last for long, though. As she drew in a deep breath, a frown appeared. She shot up, clutching her head as a headache no doubt spiked in her frontal lobe. She’d obviously been drugged. How else could they subdue a shifter, even one as small as she was? Her eyes widened as she saw Katie then darted around their cell.
“Where am I?”
Katie’s eyes slid shut. Even her voice sounded too small for her body. When she opened them, she found the young female’s blue eyes on her face.
“Where am I?”
Katie had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. This shouldn’t be happening to her. She was too young.
“I don’t know,” she told the girl honestly. “I don’t know where we are, only that w
e’re here, and it’s going to be okay.”
The girl got busy looking around again, her gaze eventually bouncing back to Katie.
“What’s your name?” she asked, trying to distract her from thinking too much.
“Luce.”
“Luce,” she repeated, smiling gently. “That’s a lovely name.”
She swallowed visibly, then said, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Katie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Luce skimmed the room again, squinting to see past the shadows. “What time is it?”
Katie shook her head. “I don’t know, kitten. And I don’t know how long I’ve been here for either.”
Luce hugged her knees to her chest. “I want my brother,” she whimpered.
Her brother? Not her mother? Unless she didn’t have a mom…
Scooting closer to her, she got within a few inches of her, not quite touching for fear of scaring her. “I know you do, Luce, but since he’s not here, I’ll look after you, okay? And then when we get out of here,” if they got out of here, “I’ll take you to him myself.”
“Promise?”
Katie had to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. “I promise.” She stared ahead, finding Elsie propped up against the wall in the cell opposite. Her eyes were dead, but she still breathed. Katie would never become like that, she’d decided. She would fight until the end, if not for herself, then this poor young female who didn’t deserve to be there. “I promise.”
20
Jett swiped the towel from the arm of the treadmill he was pounding into the basement floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. Picking up his phone, he put the call on speaker so he didn’t sweat all over it.
“Jett?” Katya asked. The tightness in her voice made all the muscles in his body seize. What the fuck could’ve happened now?
“What’s happened?”
There was a sob, a sound that cracked Jett’s heart clean in two. If their poor excuse for a mother had fucking OD’d on them, again, he was going to go over there and resuscitate her so he could kill her himself.
“Tell me, Kat.”
A rustle of clothing crept over the line. “I just got a call from Luce’s school.”
“Is she in trouble?” he asked. “Whatever happened, Luce isn’t responsible. She’s a good kid. She—” Doesn’t stand a chance.
“They called to see if she was sick and staying home.”
“Is she sick?”
“No. I sent her to school like I always do, but she…she never made it.”
Jett’s center of gravity suddenly shifted, and he pitched forward, catching himself on the arms of the treadmill. “What?”
“I don’t know where she is, Jett. Oh, God… What if, what if something has happened to her?”
Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he got his shit together. “Kat? Kat!” When he was sure she was listening to him, he added, “Hey, I need you to keep it together. I need you to…” Fuck! “I need you to pack a bag. Pack a bag for Luce too. She’ll want her stuff when we get her home. Make sure you grab her unicorn too. You know how much she likes that.”
“Okay,” his sister whispered. “What then? Should I get a motel for now?”
“Fuck no,” he growled. There was only one way he could keep her safe, and that was here at their compound. “I’ll come and get you.”
“Are you sure?” Katya’s voice dropped even lower, but it did nothing to disguise her terror.
“Of course. I’m leaving now. Pack quickly.” He hung up the phone and took the stairs out of the basement two at a time. When he hit the kitchen, he prayed Grayson was still at home.
“Looking for me?”
Jett turned around to find just the male he was looking for. “I need to borrow your car.”
Without question, Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them at Jett. “Go and do what you have to do.”
Jett clutched the keys so tightly, they bit into his hand. “I owe you, man.”
“No, you don’t. You’re my brother. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Jett strode forward, grabbing the guy by the back of the neck and pulling him close so their foreheads touched. Just as abruptly, he let go and stalked from the kitchen.
Outside, Grayson’s cherry red fast-and-shiny was in the turning circle, already pointed down the driveway. Unlocking things, he got in, barely giving the engine time to really get going before he shoved it into gear and took off down the driveway. He cursed every delay while he made his way through the security gates leading onto the property. His thoughts were a mess, his vision a blur as his sole focus became getting to his childhood home and assessing the damage that had been done.
He barely slowed down once he hit the residential area, and he took the turn too quickly into the trailer park’s drive. The GT’s rear end kicked out, sending up a plume of dust and gravel as it drifted around the corner. He pulled up in front of the mobile home a minute later and jumped out. Katya was already outside, and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.
“This is my fault,” she sobbed.
He rubbed circles on her back, hoping to soothe himself at the same time. His thoughts had been on some sort of sick repeat as he cycled through all the terrible shit that could’ve happened to his youngest sister. And the conclusion he’d reached? So help the bastard who hurt a hair on Luce’s head.
“We’ll get her back, Kat. I swear it,” he vowed. He looked up at the mobile home. “Where’s Mom? Does she know?”
His sister nodded. “I told her right after I got off the phone with you.”
“And how did she take the news?”
“Like she always deals with bad news. She shot up with Richard.”
“Fuck.” Unwrapping Katya’s arms from his torso, he put the car keys into her palm and curled her fingers around them. “Get in and lock the doors. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Her nod was slow, like she wasn’t quite tracking what was happening. Touching her face softly, he said, “Don’t worry, Kat. I’ll take care of everything. Now, get in the car. Lock the doors.” He’d go insane if Kat was taken from him, too.
Waiting until she was inside the safety of the car, he barged through the trailer door and scanned the living room. It smelled like vomit, and he let out a disgusted growl. Marching through the space, he ignored the new holes in the walls and the new stains on the old carpet runner and pushed into the bedroom. His mom and Richard were on the bed. She was lying on her back, her head on the pillow, one arm dangling off the edge. Beside her was Richard. That bastard wasn’t looking too hot, judging by the vomit that was pooled around his head.
Ignoring the male currently tearing apart his family, he focused his attention on the woman who gave him life and stuck his finger under her nose to check she was still breathing. It was a weak stream of air, so he ran his fingers along her throat to take her pulse. Thready at best. Fuck. Rolling her onto her side, he kept her in the recovery position while he pulled out his phone and brought up the details of Doctor Stephen Winchester. The guy must be getting sick of seeing Jett’s digits showing up on his screen.
“Doctor Winchester,” came the stuffy voice.
“Doc, I need you over at my mom’s mobile home.”
“Jett? Of course. I’ll be right over.” He paused then said in a lower voice, “Suspected overdose?”
“Yeah. Hurry.” He hung up the phone and glanced over at Richard. The bastard could die for all he cared. In fact, he wished he did die. At least then his mom would have a chance to get clean, because there was no way she could do it with his poisonous influence all around her.
He sat with his mother until Doc Winchester arrived fifteen minutes later. He was wearing his usual tweed three-piece suite, a red tie at his throat, and cufflinks winking at the bottom of the sleeves. He had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that he doubted he actually needed, and an expression that spoke of his professionalism and
discretion. He’d known about Jett’s continued involvement with his family for the last seven years.
“How long since she shot up?”
He stood up to get out of the doc’s way. “Maybe half an hour.”
“Do you know what she took?” He was listening to her chest, his stethoscope plugged into his ear, his brows drawn low as he concentrated.
“I don’t know, but it was probably the usual.”
The doc grunted, but kept going through his checks. Jett hated that the male had to see this side of his life. Guilt and shame was a noose around his neck, and every time he had to call in the cavalry, he felt like he was less of a male in the eyes of someone as respected as the pride’s doctor.
“Her vitals aren’t great. I’m not going to—”
His sentence was cut short when Richard began to seize. His whole body shook, foam forming around his mouth. Jett watched with curious disinterest, his eyes locked on the guy, hoping the doctor didn’t pull through with his Hippocratic Oath and decide to let the bastard just die. If he did, it would spare Jett and his sisters a whole lot of heartache. Maybe then his mom would become the woman he used to know.
“I need to stabilize him,” the doctor shouted, snapping Jett back to reality. As he checked in again, the smells and sounds of the room hit him in the chest. Richard’s bowels had released, the scent of his vomit and shit coating the back of Jett’s tongue.
“What’s happening to him, Doc?”
“Well, if I don’t get any Narcan into him in the next few minutes, he’s going to die.”
Jett thought that sounded like the perfect thing to make his day complete, but he knew the Doc wouldn’t be on board with the plan.
“Where is it?” he asked in a hollow voice.
“In my bag,” he replied, trying to hold the guy in the recovery position so he didn’t aspirate his own vomit and fuck up his lungs. Jett went to the brown leather doctor’s bag that looked like it was out of the 1800s. Popping the thing open, he looked inside and found the vial that could bring the bastard back from the brink. He threw up a Hail Mary for at least a little bit of brain damage. Pulling out a syringe, he handed over both to the doc, not at all comfortable with the fact he knew how all of that worked. He watched with that same detachment as the doc filled the syringe, pumped out the air, and jabbed the business end into Richard’s upper thigh. It took a few moments for the seizures to stop, but Jett didn’t give him any more of his time. His focus now was his sisters.
