Page 68 of Howling
I desperately try to push my way between the guys, but Garth blocks me with a gentle nudge of his shoulder, shaking his head in warning. Staring into his calm blue eyes eases the worst of my anger. It’s not the warning that stops me—it’s his resolve to protect me at any cost that finally convinces me to remain docile.
If I do anything foolish, he will take the brunt of the attack.
I reluctantly turn away, vowing that before I leave this place, I will get vengeance for every wrong done to us. We’re roughly dragged up the rest of the steps to the chapel and hauled through the double doors. If I expected the interior to resemble a classical church of some type, I would’ve been sorely disappointed. The inside is gutted of everything but an ominous altar that rests in the center of the room.
Markings are etched along the floor in preparation for the rituals they will perform. Several old books circle the outside of the room, resting on various pedestals, their pages brittlewith age. Faint magic sparks from all the witches who used the grimoires in the past, as if the very tomes themselves are trying to lure me to claim them. When I resist their call, the grimoires fall dormant again, waiting for another witch to touch them and activate their magic.
My wolf raises her head curiously, sensing something hidden in the chapel, something powerful. Before I can investigate further, we’re dragged to a door in the corner of the room and hauled down a steep set of steps. The space under the chapel is dark and dank, smelling of stale water, mildew, and dirt.
We’re forced to duck as we’re prodded across the piss soaked dirt floor, and my nose crinkles with disgust. Garbage and rotted boxes fill almost every foot of space, leaving only a small passageway through the junk.
Rats squeal at being disturbed, scurrying deeper into the trash. The critters are so large that the stacked boxes sway in alarm. Cobwebs cover almost every surface, the nets so big, they must be home to hundreds of spiders…or one colossal arachnid.
Shudder.
Gramps raised me to live without fear, so the sharp spurt of terror is almost a novel experience.
New phobias unlocked.
I eye the cobwebs warily as I pass, uncertain whether I would stomp on the horrible arachnid or run away screaming.
A smaller man leads us toward a shadowed corner, and I didn’t realize there was another way out until a carnivorous hole gapes in the wall. Malevolence radiates from the darkness, evil saturating the air, and my beast balks at being dragged into whatever hellhole awaits.
I pause for only a second, but the delay is enough. A loud crack booms in the room, then the lash of a whip slices through my shirt and bites into my flesh. My skin splits open, and a trickle of blood drips down my back.
I tense, clench my teeth, then release a slow breath through my nose.
No fucking way am I going to give them a reaction.
Snarls escape my men, and they immediately spin to face the new threat. Our odds might be better down here, but the guys are without their shifter strength and speed. It would almost be a fair battle…if the cowards weren’t armed to the teeth and pointing guns at our heads.
I shove my way between the men, holding up my bound hands. “We’re going. Hold off on using your weapons, and no one will get hurt.”
A large man with a nasty scar running along his jaw steps forward with a sinister smile, a bloodstained whip dangling loosely at his side. “And why would I do that when we were just getting acquainted?”
Garth presses close, gently peeling the edges of my shirt away to peer at the wound, and a deadly rumble vibrates from his chest. Even with the cuffs blocking him, his beast won’t be quieted.
It’s impressive.
When he probes the injury, my muscles instinctively tense, and fire ripples down my spine. Though my eye twitches slightly, I refuse to allow any other show of emotion. The brute wants to see my pain, wants to revel in it, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
I raise an eyebrow at the asshole, unamused by his taunt. “Because if it comes down to a fight, you will lose. Even if you somehow managed to survive, what will Geoffrey do when he finds out you injured or killed his money ticket?”
A muscle ripples in his jaw when he grits his teeth, his hatred for shifters practically oozing from his pores. He fondles the whip handle, his face twisting into a mask of disgust as his gaze sweeps over every inch of me.
When he stomps forward, the men behind me tense, and I force myself to remain relaxed. “You’ve already got your warning,” he spits out. “Fuck up again, and I won’t be so gentle.”
The guys surge forward, and I lift my arms to hold them back, sucking down a groan when the muscles of my back protest the move. “Don’t. It’s what the asshole wants.”
As much as I want to stomp the fucker’s ass, I force back my rage.
We’re so close to Tyler that I can practically feel him.
Displeasure twists the soldier’s face at being denied his fun, the jagged scar puckering grotesquely, but my point has been made. I turn on my heel and march back into the creepy ass corner and step into the thick darkness. The tunnel is small, narrowing more and more the farther we travel, leaving us to march single file.
The air grows heavy the deeper we head underground, dust and despair settling in my lungs. As the temperature drops, the hair on my arms lifts, and my wolf whimpers before she retreats. While she’s okay with closed spaces, she does not like being underground.
It’s fucking unnatural.
