Page 70 of Chief's Addiction

With a grunt of effort, Beckett pushed me up the wall. My fingers finally caught the window’s ledge. It was dirty, covered in years of grime, but I didn’t care. I pulled myself up, using Beckett’s shoulders as leverage, until I could see through the glass.

We were definitely in a basement. I could see gravel and the bottom of what looked like a fence maybe twenty feet away.

Freedom was close.

The window was sealed shut and probably hadn’t been opened in years. I braced myself and drove my elbow into the glass. It cracked but didn’t shatter. I hit it again, harder, and this time it broke, shards raining down on the outside. I quickly cleared the frame as best I could, pushing the larger pieces out.

“I’m going through,” I told Beckett, already wiggling headfirst through the small opening.

It was a tight fit, but adrenaline and desperation gave me strength I didn’t know I had.

Once my shoulders cleared the frame, I pulled myself onto the gravel outside, ignoring the glass that bit into my palms and the stinging scrapes along my arms from the window frame. Twisting around, I reached back inside.

“Come on,” I urged Beckett. “You can do it.”

Beckett moved back to the other side of the room and then raced forward. At the last minute he leaped into the air, his arms extended. I grabbed a hold of his hands and tugged him the rest of the way up the wall. Wiggling through the tiny space, he squeezed through the window.

“Shit,” he hissed, breathing hard. “I didn’t really think that would work.”

I hadn’t either, but I wasn’t about to think too hard on it. We still had to get the hell out of here.

“Come on.” We crouched low, scanning our surroundings.

We were behind some kind of warehouse with a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounding the property.

Beyond the fence, I could see more industrial buildings and, in the distance, the glint of water.

“This way,” I whispered, pointing to the fence. It was our best shot. There didn’t seem to be any activity on the other side aside from distant voices and the occasional door slam from the warehouse behind us.

We’d made it halfway to the fence when a deep, throaty growl froze us in place.

“Dogs,” Beckett whispered, fear evident in his voice.

I turned slowly to see two Rottweilers advancing on us, teeth bared, muscles bunched beneath their shiny black coats.

“When I say run, run,” I murmured, not taking my eyes off the animals. “Go straight for the fence. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Cora—”

“RUN!”

We both took off, sprinting for the fence as the dogs gave chase. Beckett reached the fence first, his long legs eating up the distance. He leapt, grabbing the chain links and scaling it with superhuman speed.

I didn’t move anywhere near as fat. The injuries from Spike’s assault made my movements clumsy. The first dog reached me just as I grabbed the fence. Razor sharp teeth sank down into my calf and I screamed.

Clinging to the fence with one hand, I twisted around and slammed my fist into the dog’s snout as hard as I could.

It yelped, releasing my leg long enough for me to spin around and haul myself out of its reach.

“Hurry!” Beckett called from the top of the fence. He’d already navigated the barbed wire and was dropping down the other side.

The second dog reached the fence, jumping and snapping at my feet. I climbed higher, my heart pounding in my ears, blood streaming down my leg from the other dog’s bite. I made it to the top and the barbed wire caught on my shirt, the sharp points scratching across my flesh.

With a final, desperate effort, I dropped to the ground on the other side. I landed hard, sending a jolt of pain up my injured leg.

“Shit, Cora!” I heard Beckett say, but my eyes were trained on the dogs barking and snarling at us from the other side of the fence. “You’re bleeding.”

I looked down to see blood soaking through my jeans where the dog had bitten me.

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