Chapter 12 #2
I skipped the floor right above the Wildcats HQ and moved to the one above it.
The floor had a classic layout, with two doors directly across from each other.
The lobby space between the apartments was littered with children’s toys.
I couldn’t give a fuck about that. One of the doorknobs had a standard doorknob, while the other had a golden lioness doorknob.
This definitely made things easier for me.
If we were going by the hierarchy of the Wildcats, she must be the leader.
If it were a man, I’d assume we’d have a golden lion for a doorknob.
Well, if it were a man, I doubt he’d have a customized fucking doorknob.
Rolling my eyes, I skipped this floor as well and climbed up. I only had eyes for a panther doorknob.
Bing-fucking-go.
My eyes zeroed in on the door with a purple-and-black panther doorknob.
My heart hammered, my feet moved as if I were floating, my mind singularly focused on getting inside that door.
The thought of invading my panther’s private space, uncovering every single thing about her, picking apart her strengths and weaknesses, and using them to subdue her under me had my cock rock fucking hard already.
With a quiet click, the door to her apartment opened, and I took a quick step inside.
And immediately, a sharp, piercing pain seared through my calf. A loud groan echoed in the room—probably mine—as my vision turned blurry. When I forced my eyes open, they dropped to the giant fucking Doberman with my calf in his jaw.
“Let fucking go.” I jerked my calf, trying to pry his sharp canines off my leg. The little fucker had his teeth sank fucking deep into my leg.
Instead of letting go, the fucker growled and sank his jaw into my leg deeper. Pain exploded in my veins, my brain going foggy with agony. Fuck, he was going to break my leg.
I gritted my teeth so as not to scream like a fucking baby and slid down on the floor, unable to remain standing. I grabbed the scruff of the dog's neck and, with an animalistic roar that startled the dog, pulled his jaw apart.
I quickly removed my injured, bleeding calf from the vicinity of the rabid animal and held the giant fucker’s neck with both of my hands. With a sharp glare, I growled at him. “Stop that.”
The crazy dog lunged at my face instead, his forelegs trying to climb up my chest, barking like a lunatic. “No. Stay fucking down. And keep quiet,” I yelled at the dog.
What kind of a man-hating dog was my little criminal raising? And how the fuck was she able to handle this giant beast?
Keeping my one hand at the dog’s collar and another around his muzzle, I put all of my weight on the uninjured leg and got up on my feet.
My plan had been to quietly infiltrate the place, gather every bit of intel on my vigilante, and play with her. Not to get bitten by a rabid, muscular man-hating dog and start looking for some treats for the fucker to protect myself. What had my life come to?
I didn’t plan on turning on the lights, but the giant dog left me no choice. I fumbled my hand along the wall and flicked on the switch. A warm light cast over the entire room as I dragged myself, my injured leg, and the giant dog to the kitchen.
The moment I let go of his collar, he thrashed around with his snout still clutched in my hand. If I didn’t find a fucking treat soon enough, this motherfucker was gonna eat me alive.
Fucking Hugh should’ve warned me about him. He’d seen the cameras throughout this place, hadn't he?
With pain shooting through my leg and my vision hazy, I gritted my teeth and started randomly opening cupboards. After a hundred hours—two minutes—I found the fucking pack of dog treats.
I brought the package to my mouth, clenched one side between my teeth, and pulled the ziplock pack from the other side.
With a trembling hand, probably from pain and blood loss, I pulled out a fistful of treats, let go of my hand from around the monster’s snout, and dropped all the treats in his wide jaw.
The fucker instantly quieted down. While he ate, I cooed in his ear, “I’m your friend.” I gave him my hand to smell, right along with another treat, and cooed, “Yes, remember my scent. We’re friends. I’m the treat in your life.”
Before he could change his mind about me and start barking again, I stepped away from him and moved into what looked like a powder room.
I immediately locked the door behind me and dropped onto the covered toilet seat.
Gingerly, I pulled up my pants and cringed. The motherfucker had chewed up my calf.
I unrolled half of the toilet paper roll—so much for discretion and no evidence—and wrapped it around my bleeding leg. I opened the cabinet under the sink and found the emergency medical kit and a gun. Paranoid much, little panther?
By the time I was done swallowing three painkillers, washing the wound, and temporarily patching myself up, the bathroom floor was a patchwork of blood. With an annoyed grunt, I grabbed some more paper towels, splashed some water on them, and wiped the floor until it was spotless.
I would’ve loved to clean it up a bit more, but the dog slammed on the door from the other side, barking up a storm.
Fuck!
Preparing myself, I opened the door slightly and grabbed the collar of the dog before it chose to mangle my other leg. He immediately started to jump on me, his jaw snarling, saliva dripping down its maw. There was only one solution to subduing the large motherfucker.
With a sigh, I bent down and lifted him into my arms, wrapping both my arms around him tightly so he couldn’t move his jaw. “There now, doggy. That’s a good boy, now. No biting Daddy.”
He snarled. And I petted him at his neck, where I clutched him with all my strength. “There, there. Let’s see what your mommy’s got here. We gotta find you a leash, don’t we? Yes, we do.”
With the dog clutched tightly in my arms, I scanned the massive apartment. The living room had two large couches, facing a giant television. Potted plants covered every corner of the apartment, some thriving, most of them dying. “Not the best plant Mommy, is she?”
The walls of the entire living room resembled a hotel room. No personal photo frames, no memorabilia, just some random art hung in random locations. My little criminal and I were quite similar in that regard.
I turned down the hallway to the right of the kitchen and opened the first door. A large king-size bed faced the wall-to-wall glass windows, overlooking the city of New York. A velvet green armchair sat on the side, with a small coffee table. Pretty generic. Definitely a guest bedroom.
I walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me, and walked to the last door at the end of the hallway.
Jackpot.
Right at the entrance on the left, I found a stand with several leashes. “Look what we found, doggy.”
Adjusting my grip so I didn’t lose the dog out of my arm, I picked up the nearest leash and rushed to the living room. We sat on the couch as I wrestled the dog, trying to put a leash on his collar.