The sound is catastrophic. In the enclosed entrance of the limestone fissure, the gunshot doesn't just ring; it slams into you. The muzzle flash blinds me for a microsecond, a strobe light of violence.
I miss the head. But I hit the chest. The bullet catches the beast in mid-air. The impact arrests its momentum instantly, twisting its body violently to the left. It drops to the snow with a wet thud, yelping once—a high, sharp sound that cuts through the adrenaline—before thrashing into silence.
"One," I whisper, my voice trembling.
"Elodie! Adjust left!" Alaric’s voice rasps from behind me, weak but urgent.
I snap my aim to the left. The second dog is already flanking. It saw its packmate fall and didn't hesitate. It used the distraction to circle the ridge, coming at me from the blind side of the rocks. This one is bigger. A German Shepherd mix, heavy and dark.
It scrambles up the loose shale, claws digging for purchase. I fire.CRACK.Dirt sprays three inches from its paw. Miss.Panic.Theword flares in my mind, bright and hot. My hands are shaking. The recoil threw my aim off.CRACK.Another miss. The bullet ricochets off the limestone wall, sparking.
The dog is on me. It doesn't jump for the throat. It goes for the weapon arm. Jaws clamp down on my left forearm.
I scream. The pain is absolute. It’s not sharp; it’s crushing. It feels like my arm is being put through a meat grinder. The weight of the animal slams me back against the cave wall. My head hits the stone, stars exploding in my vision. The SIG clatters from my hand, skittering across the rocky floor.
"NO!" I kick out, driving my boot into the dog's ribs. It grunts but doesn't let go. It shakes its head violently, tearing at my flesh, trying to drag me down to the ground where it can finish me. Warm blood—my blood—soaks my sleeve instantly.
I reach for the gun with my right hand, but it’s too far. The dog growls, a deep, vibrating rumble that I feel in my own bones. Its eyes are locked on mine, devoid of soul. Just hunger. Just training.
Show me the monster.
I stop pulling away. If I pull, he rips the muscle. I leanin. I drive my arm deeper into his throat, choking him on his own bite. With my free hand—my right hand, the hand that Alaric marked—I reach down. I don't reach for the gun. I reach for the knife on the dog’s collar. No, not a knife. A jagged rock on the floor.
I grab a fist-sized stone. And I bring it down.CRUNCH.I hit the dog right between the ears. It yelps, its grip loosening for a fraction of a second. I hit it again. Harder. Screaming with the effort.CRUNCH.And again.CRUNCH.
The light goes out of its eyes. The jaws go slack. The heavy body slides off me, landing in a heap at my feet. I stand there, panting,my left arm hanging uselessly at my side, blood dripping from my fingertips onto the white snow. I look at the rock in my hand. It is coated in dark fur and brain matter.
I drop it. I vomit. Dry, heaving spasms that tear at my stomach lining. I just beat a living thing to death with a rock. I am a pianist. I play Debussy. I worry about chipped fingernails.Not anymore.
"Elodie..." Alaric is crawling toward me. He has dragged himself halfway to the entrance, leaving a smear of red behind him like a snail trail. He holds the flare gun—our last resort—in a shaking hand. "The gun... get the gun..."
I stumble toward the SIG. I pick it up. My hands are slick with blood, making the polymer grip slippery. I check the chamber. "I have it," I gasp, wiping the blood from my eyes. "I have it."
"Third one," Alaric wheezes. "Where is... the third one?"
We listen. Silence. The wind whistles through the pine trees. The snow falls softly, indifferent to the carnage. There were three dogs. I killed two. Where is the Alpha?
"There," Alaric whispers.
He doesn't point. He looks up. On top of the ridge. Directly above the cave mouth. The third dog isn't attacking. It’s waiting. It’s spotting.
And then, the voice. "Call it off, Breaker. She dropped the K9s."
Human. The handlers have arrived.
I flatten myself against the cave wall, hidden by the shadow of the overhang. "Stay back!" I scream into the darkness. "I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'll kill all of you!"
A laugh floats down from the ridge. Cold. Professional. "We know you will, darling. We saw the handiwork on the drone feed. Brutal stuff. Vance was right about you. You're a natural."
"Who are you?"
"Does it matter? We're the cleanup crew. You're the mess." A pause. "Toss the weapon, Miss Fray. Send the Director out first. We need to verify he's dead before we package you. Do that, and we won't let the last dog chew on your pretty face."
I look at Alaric. He is slumped against the rock wall, his face grey. He looks up at me. His eyes are clear. Resigned. "Give me the gun," he whispers.
"What?"
"Give me the gun, Elodie. I'll draw their fire. You run deeper into the cave. There might be a back way."
