Page 80 of Howling
The metal hinges creak, echoing loudly in the inky darkness. I wince, my eyes flashing toward the entrance, bracing myself for a couple of goons to burst from the shadows. When nothing happens, I should be relieved, but it only sends a shiver of unease down my spine.
They’re planning something.
It takes a physical effort to turn my back to the darkness…and I find myself at the center of attention of dozens of people locked in their own cages. When I reach for the first kennel, Bellamy adroitly steps in my path and blocks me.
I glance up at him in confusion, and my stomach sinks at his grim expression. “As much as I want to help them, we don’t have time. You are the priority. We can’t afford to linger, or we’ll risk recapture.”
I understand his reasoning, I do, but my insides curdle at the thought of leaving them to their fate. If we escape without them, we would be signing their death warrants. They will either be turned over to the council or sucked dry by the wizard in his quest for power.
Geoffrey is borderline insane, his body on the cusp of total collapse, and he knows it. Once he tips over the edge, it’s only a matter of time before magic consumes him from the inside out.
He sees me as his salvation, which makes him dangerous. He won’t let me go without a fight. If that means draining his captives to get what he wants, he would do it in a heartbeat and not even blink at the massacre.
A girl about my age leans toward the bars of her cage, careful not to touch the metal. Her eyes are so blue, they look like a storm tossed sea. The mix of hopelessness and rage is so similar to what I see in the mirror every day that I can’t turn away.
Hope is just another form of torture.
Every time your expectations rise, they are cruelly dashed. Each time it happens, the disappointment is crushing, and you lose a little more of yourself, until nothing remains but despair.
I won’t perpetuate the apathy that has taken over Kyperian.
I drop to one knee in front of her cage, and her eyes widen in surprise before they narrow suspiciously. “Your friends are correct—by the time you free us, you’ll be so weak that you won’t be able to defend yourself.” Her shoulders slump with bleak acceptance, and she shakes her head. “You should go. Stop him from doing this to anyone else.”
A wry smile tips my lips. “I’m not one for following rules. Why would I start now?” Without looking away from her, I point to the men over my shoulder. “Besides, I didn’t bring the men along for eye candy alone. If I falter, they will have my back.”
I hope.
The woman squints at me warily, but the spark of anticipation in her sea swept eyes is impossible to ignore. My instincts are telling me to help her. Trusting my gut has kept me alive this long. It would be foolish to ignore it now.
Shaking out my hands, I wiggle my fingers, then inhale deeply before releasing my breath and gripping the bars tightly.
If I don’t have enough air in my lungs, then I can’t scream, right?
It’s one of those fun facts that I learned early in life.
The magic in the bars kicks back hard, my arms aching like knives are slowly cutting away my skin. Each second that I refuse to release my hold, those knives carve deeper and travel higher. I grit my teeth to hold back my whimper and ruthlessly focus on the task of pulling the magic out of the cage.
My wolf doesn’t hesitate to shred the spell. Unfortunately, more than one spell is keeping this cage protected. Sweat beads my forehead, my limbs tremble, and just when I fear the magic might consume me, the last of the spell breaks.
The magic is absorbed into my body, leaving me lightheaded at the rush, and I nearly fall back on my ass. The only thing that saves me is Dante’s quick reflexes. He catches me before I can assplant, his hold gentle, and I blink up at him in surprise.
Out of all the men, I thought for surehewould enjoy seeing me fall on my ass.
He doesn’t look at me as he pulls me away, tucking me into his lap, a muscle in his jaw ticking furiously. I’m distracted when Garth steps forward and grabs the bars of the cage without hesitation, trusting that I was able to remove the magic.
Metal creaks as it strains against his brute force. A grunt escapes him, and I’m mesmerized by the way the muscles of his arms flex. Though I might have been raised around shifters, they’re so beaten down that any posturing or show of strength is reported and punished.
They want us weak and broken—all the easier to bend us to their will.
The bars bend, the hinges groan, and damn if the sight of him doesn’t do something to me. Even my wolf is paying attention, the beast loving the way he’s showing off his strength for us. Heat steals through me at the thought, but I quickly brush it off.
There is no way that he’s interested in me, right?
I’m a mess. Not only are my emotions all over the place, but my life is a disaster.
Anyone who sees me would be smart to run in the opposite direction.
Yet the guys stayed.
