I’m not into torture, as such, but I know they’ll be suffering for terrorizing her like this. How fucking dare they? Instead of being real fucking men and using the front door, they’re playing stupid games.
Once I’m finished with them, I’ll move on to every fucking person on Petrov’s payroll before hunting down the cockhead himself because, ultimately, he is responsible for her well-being while she’s a guest at his house. I don’t give a shit if it washer choice to stay here alone and unprotected; he still has an obligation to keep her safe.
The feral pack of dogs running wild on his property does not qualify.
I follow one of the masked assailants as he climbs off the roof and disappears inside. I trace his exact steps, and he doesn’t suspect a thing.
Considering how much noise he’s making as he walks confidently, he knows she’s alone, but he also knows the layout of the house. I watch from a distance and I only stop following him when something up ahead makes him lose his confidence.
He starts to backtrack, one slow inch at a time. He also starts speaking; his words aren’t important, since the flood of panic and desperation perfuming the air is what I focus on.
He stops moving and starts trying to squeeze himself into a small alcove. It’s a stupid place to hole up in; he would have been better to use the room to his left. I watch him taking a deep breath before he pulls up his arm, trying to line up a shot, but he can’t hold his trembling hand still.
Unlike him, I can hold my aim, and I also don’t hesitate. I fire, and he grunts as I hit him. I fire again, hitting the same area I did before, forcing him from his cover.
He slips on something, and he windmills his arms, like he’s trying to avoid falling as he starts to scurry towards me, which is real fucking stupid. But something in front of him scares him more than I do.
Something leaps at him, and then his frantic shouting is cut off.
I stay where I am and watch as the dog shakes its head, rag-dolling the man dangling from his jaws. The man screams in agony but is unable to free himself from the dog's clutches. The dog shakes his head when the man’s fighting picks up again, but after another violent and prolonged shake, the grunts of pain getquickly lost under the dog's snarling. And the whole time, the black dog is watching me.
His eyes are full of the same cold intensity I’ve seen in highly trained hitmen or soldiers.
In different circumstances, and after seeing the dog, I’d be tempted to take off, but I’m not leaving Quinn. I’m so close, I can scent her. Her unique vanilla fragrance fills my lungs with each inhale and exhale I take, hammering home the bond we share.
She’s stressed and scared, her scent different to the creamy warmth that coated my senses, my mouth, and knot back at the hotel. Even with the caustic proof of her fear, her heady vanilla perfume guides me like a lighthouse in a storm.
The animal lets go of the dead man and stands to full height. The black of his fur, coupled with the darkness in the hallway, makes it appear he’s part of the shadows, which explains how the now-dead idiot missed him.
The beast stares me down and bares his teeth in silent warning, sending a message more obvious than if he spoke. It’s rare to see an animal so well trained. One second, it’s looking at me like it’s assessing ways to kill me, and the next second it acts as if I am not even there, racing back from where it came without making a single fucking sound. It’s something you’d have to see to understand because it makes no sense, given the dog's size.
But it’s headed the way I need to go. I trail after the dog at a semi-safe distance, and as I come to a junction—where three corridors merge to a large landing area—I realize I’ve been herded. Another dog, equally intimidating but slightly smaller, stands in wait. The black dog disappeared and reappeared behind me to block my escape.
They move as one, barely audible growls coming from them both as they start working together in taking me down.
I aim my gun at the smaller one, since the color of its fur makes it easier to follow. I don’t want to shoot, but I will. Myback is to the wall, making it hard to watch them both, but harder for them to attack too. My heart is in my fucking throat. I’m in serious danger.
From downstairs, something heavy moves. We all twist to listen. Another noise follows, but it’s closer. The dogs and I go from foes to something else as we race towards the sound of people fighting.
My stomach bottoms when Kade races up a set of stairs and joins us. He’s been fighting and has smears of blood on his face and hands. He doesn’t explain what’s going on, and I don’t warn him about the dogs, but the dogs don’t immediately attack. Collectively, we realize the second noise we heard must have come from up here, and if we’re all looking at each other and the sounds keep happening, it means Quinn’s alone and she’s being attacked.
We run as one, all of us trying to outrace the other. The dogs beat us. Not by much, but by enough.
Kade and I burst into the room, and Quinn’s on the floor, wrestling with the black dog. For a second, I think the dog is attacking her, but then I see she’s actually fighting the black dog. She’s got her fingers in its jaws, trying to pry its massive jaw open from how it’s latched around another person’s throat.
“I swear, if you kill him…” She snarls, pushing her head against the side of the dog's head, trying to make him drop the body. The other dog keeps rushing in, and Quinn uses her foot like a shield. “Nalla! Back off. Seriously, if you bite me, I’ll bite you back. We need this one alive.”
She doesn’t even seem to register that we’re here until Kade sits on the opposite side of her. She makes a strangled scream, but she doesn’t stop trying to pry the dog's jaw open.
“Quinny!” Kade shouts, “Fucking stop! He’s going to fucking bite off your fingers!”
It’s a chaotic scene. The five of them are bucking, trying to free or hold on, making enough noise to wake the dead. Quinn’s voice is the loudest as she shouts at the big dog while he continues snarling back at her in warning, staring her down while refusing to open his mouth.
I walk closer, and the dogs track my movement, though they don’t move at me. Kade’s trying to catch Quinn's attention, but she’s blatantly ignoring him, intent on keeping the man alive by wrestling him free.
The man is thrashing around, trying to free himself, which only fuels the already pissed-off dog. The lighter-colored dog is dancing around close to Kade, while positioning itself defensively and protectively. Without question, the dog is constantly assessing and adjusting its stance to keep Quinn, and the black dog, as protected as possible. It’s pandemonium and does my fucking head in. I can’t cope with how close she is to being hurt.
The doublebang, bangof my gun stops everything, and stills the prick who was attacking her.
