Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
The guard's fingers shook as he wrestled with the lock. My heart thundered in my chest, so loud I was sure it would give me away. I white-knuckled the bars, forcing calm into my bones, clinging to the thread of guilt I'd woven through the guard's mind. Tears carved paths down his face. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.
"Sorry. I ..." he choked out.
Finally—the soft click of freedom as the lock surrendered.
As the cage door swung wide, I pounced. My body coiled and released, every muscle singing with pent-up energy. The guard, drowning in the sea of guilt and grief I'd dumped on him, never saw it coming. I snatched his arms, spun him, and hurled him into my cell. My fist rocketed into his jaw, and he crumpled, out cold before he hit the ground. I dragged his dead weight onto my bed, my muscles screaming in protest.
I froze, ears straining. No alarms. No shouts. Not yet.
Swiping the guard's keys, I slithered out of the cell, yanked the gate shut, and snapped the lock home. The corridor yawned before me, a dimly lit tunnel of oppressive silence. I crept forward, my bare feet silent on the cold floor. Every corner, every turn screamed 'trap', but I carried on, senses on high alert. I kept low, hugging the shadows. I needed to put as much distance between me and here as possible, even if I had no clue where 'here' actually was.
Lucky for me, when they'd paraded me around on that Moon night run, when my father had shown off his prodigal son, he'd unknowingly mapped out my escape route. Without that, I'd be a rat in a maze, probably ending up right back where I started.
The guy in the cell a few down from mine wasn't napping. He was pressed against the bars, eyes wide when he clocked me.
"Hey ..." he hissed.
I slapped a finger to my lips, but he wasn't having it. He sprang up.
"Let me out of here. Take me with you. Come on, man."
I ignored him, flying past his cell towards freedom. The stairwell loomed ahead. I took the steps two, sometimes three at a time, lungs burning, muscles screaming. At the top, I hesitated. Beyond this door lay the main house—and who knew how many pack members itching for a fight.
"Come on, dude. Open the gate," the prisoner's urgent whisper chased me up the stairs.
I glanced back, torn. Leaving him felt wrong, but bringing him could slow me down, get us both caught.
"I could shout you know?" The man's voice carried up the stairs, desperation in his threat. "When you open that door. I could scream blue murder."
Shit. My heart raced even faster, if that was possible. I couldn't risk him raising the alarm. With a frustrated growl, I bounded back down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
"Alright, alright," I hissed, skidding to a stop in front of his cell. "But if you slow me down, I swear I'll knock you out myself."
My hands shook as I fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one.
The man burst out of the cell like he'd been shot from a cannon. He was taller than me, all lean muscle and wild eyes. "Thanks, man. I owe you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just keep quiet and don't get us caught."
We crept back up the stairs, every creak of the steps a gunshot in the silence. At the top, I pressed my ear to the door, listening for any sign of movement beyond. Nothing. I braced my hands against the cold wood and closed my eyes, sending out my power like I had back at my mother's boudoir. I needed to search for sources of emotion, because even in a resting state, everyone was always feeling something. I picked out a couple of people awake. I had no idea what time it was, but by the state of what I could sense, it must have been the middle of the night. People were sleeping.
"Ready?" I whispered.
He nodded, face set with determination.
I eased the door open, praying it wouldn't squeak. The hallway beyond was empty, bathed in the soft glow of early morning light filtering through distant windows. We slipped out, hugging the walls, moving as silently as shadows. He followed me without question as I traced the route Rick had taken me. It didn't take too long. I only stopped to check if anyone was awake and close to us. There was not.
We made it to a large kitchen that held an unusually large dining table. The table was worn and well-used, and I imagined the pack sitting around this place talking. My panther ached for that, to belong, to be part of people—his people.
I shook off the feeling. No time for that now.
We crept across the kitchen to the door on the farside, our bare feet silent on the cold tile floor. I eased the door open, wincing at the faint creak of hinges. A blast of cool early morning air hit us, carrying the scent of grass and freedom.
We slipped out into the darkness, the massive house looming behind us. The lawn stretched out, a sea of shadows under the rising morning light.
"Which way?" my companion hissed.
I hesitated, trying to get my bearings. That's when the other guy spotted it.
"Look," he said, his voice rising with excitement. He pointed to our left, where the outline of a large structure stood apart from the main house. "Is that a garage?"
Before I could answer, he was off, sprinting across the lawn towards the building.
"Wait," I called in a harsh whisper, but he was already halfway there.
Cursing under my breath, I took off after him. My heart pounded in my chest, certain that at any moment, lights would flood the grounds and alarms would start blaring. But the early morning remained quiet, broken only by the sound of our feet on the grass.
The guy reached the garage first, yanking at the side door. It was locked.
"Shit," he muttered as I caught up. "Any chance those keys you nabbed might work on this?"
I shook my head, eyeing the lock, I gripped the padlock and with a quick, forceful twist, the metal groaned and then snapped with a satisfying crack. The broken lock fell to the ground with a dull thud.
My companion's eyes widened. "Holy shit, man. Remind me not to piss you off."
"Just get inside," I growled, pushing the door open.
We slipped in, and I felt along the wall for a light switch. Finding it, I flicked it on, blinking in the sudden brightness.
The garage was huge, filled with gleaming cars and, at the far end, a pair of motorcycles that seemed to call my name.
But before we could move towards them, a voice rang out behind us, freezing us in our tracks.
"Well, this is such a shame to see? See, I told dad he was stupid for letting you out the other night. Said that the first chance you got, you'd be out of here. But no. He wanted to show you off." My eyes must have widened and he must have felt it inside, because he grinned. "Yeah, dad," Rick said. "I'm your brother. Isn't that awesome?"
"Just because we share DNA, does not mean we are brothers, or that we are anything."
He rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles for effect. Because that would scare me? Neither of us noticed my companion sneaking out. I don't blame him. I'd have run too. I'd have wished him luck, if I'd have seen him, but he was gone, leaving Rick and I alone. Family or not and my panther wanting connection, he didn't back down when threat came. A growl resounded from my throat. We would take this piece of shit down if we had to.
Rick's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Aw, come on, bro. Don't be like that. We could have so much fun together."
I tensed, my muscles coiling. "The only fun I'm interested in is watching you eat shit."
He lunged forward, faster than I expected. His fist connected with my jaw, sending me stumbling back. Pain exploded across my face, but I pushed it aside, letting my shifter healing kick in.
I retaliated, driving my shoulder into his midsection. We crashed into a workbench, tools clattering to the floor around us. Rick's elbow came down hard on my back, knocking the wind out of me.
We grappled, trading blows. Each hit I took felt like it was chipping away at my resolve, but I refused to give in. I could taste blood in my mouth, feel bruises forming and healing in rapid succession.
Rick was strong, I'd give him that. But he was cocky, overconfident. And I had something he didn't—desperation.
As we broke apart, both panting, I saw an opening. I feinted left, then drove my right fist into his solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping. Not wasting a second, I brought my knee up, connecting solidly with his face.
Rick staggered back, blood pouring from his nose. But he wasn't done. He charged at me, roaring with rage. I sidestepped at the last second, using his momentum to slam him into the wall.
Before he could recover, I let my panther come out to play a little, letting my hand shift to a paw, equipped with claws. Rick turned, eyes widening as he saw what I was doing.
"Oh, come on now. That's cheating," he spat, but I saw the flash of fear in his eyes.
I didn't hesitate. I slashed at him, my claws raking across his chest. He howled in pain, but then his own eyes flickered, a feral light igniting in them. His fingers elongated, nails sharpening into deadly points.
"Two can play at that game, brother," he snarled.
We circled each other, both partially shifted now. Rick lunged, his claws slicing through the air. I dodged, but not fast enough. Pain exploded across my ribs as his claws found their mark.
I retaliated, managing to catch his arm with my claws. Blood welled up, but the wound was already starting to close. Claws flashed in the dim light of the garage. Each hit left gashes that healed almost as quickly as they appeared, but the pain ... the pain lingered.
My breath came in ragged gasps, my body screaming in protest. But I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. This was my one chance at freedom, and I'd be damned if I let Rick take it from me.
We circled each other again, both bleeding and panting. Rick's eyes gleamed with a mix of rage and something else—enjoyment? The sick bastard was getting off on this.
I backed up, trying to put some distance between us. My foot hit something solid, and I risked a quick glance down. A wrench lay on the floor, must've fallen from the workbench during our scuffle.
Rick saw my distraction and pounced. But I was ready for him. I ducked under his swing, my hand closing around the cold metal of the wrench. As I came up, I swung with all my might.
The wrench connected with the side of Rick's head with a thud. His eyes went wide, then rolled back in his skull. He crumpled to the floor.
I stood over him, chest heaving, the wrench still clutched in my trembling hand. Blood dripped from my various cuts, but I barely felt them. Adrenaline coursed through me, making everything sharp and clear.
Rick lay motionless at my feet. He was breathing, but he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Part of me wanted to hit him again, make sure he stayed down. But I wasn't like them.
I dropped the wrench, the clang of metal on concrete echoing in the now-silent garage, and raced over to one of the bikes.