Page 83 of Big Bad Boss: Midnight

I’m a monster. I pride myself on being horrible to my employees, and now I may have lost…fuck.

More than I previously cared to admit.

I’ve been minimizing what Madison means to me, but now, faced with possibly losing her, I realize what a damn fool I’ve been.

She’s perfect. I need her.

And for some reason, my wolf seems to think she belongs to me.

“Madison!” I shout into the wind then stop to listen. I wish we had fireworks or flares. Things wolves don’t keep around because we have no need for them.

I don’t start the snowmobile. I need to be able to hear the wolf-song, when it comes.

“Madison!” I stand and shout, over and over again, praying my words will catch on the wind and find their way to her.

* * *

Madison

I think I’m going into hypothermia. I’ve been out here so long, even my brain is numb. I have my fingers balled into fists inside my gloves and periodically, I’ll take one out and tuck it into my armpit to warm it and keep from getting frostbite. I probably already have it on my toes.

I think I’m hallucinating because it seems like I can hear my name being called.

Maybe Blackthroat’s out looking for me?

I try to follow the sound of his voice, but it seems to move around, which is what makes me think it’s just hypothermic hallucinations. On the chance it’s not, I decide a better strategy might be to make noise of my own.

“Hello? Help!” I shout over and over again until I grow hoarse.

The wind is too loud to scream over. I need to make more noise than that.

I trip again and crash down on my hands and knees. I’m face to face with a large stick. I pick it up. This might work. I find a tree and start beating the stick against it. It’s not louder than my voice, but I hope the rhythmic sound of it might signal someone who was looking for me. I beat and beat the tree until my arms grow weary. It’s hard for my frozen fingers to even stay curled around it.

Then I hear something.

Not the welcome sound of a human voice. Not my name being called.

No, it’s the yip and howl of wolves. The sound of a celebrated kill.

I choke back my cry. I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention. I forgot that I might attract the notice of something other than a human.

The sound of the wolf-cries grow louder, and then when they can’t be more than a few yards away, they go silent.

Oh, God.

They weren’t celebrating a kill–they’re after one.Me.

I turn in a slow circle, arcing the stick in front of me like a sword.

Something stirs in the white flurries. A huge ghostly shadow, like a ship passing through fog.

That shadowy shape in the snow was bigger than anything I want to meet, alone and unarmed out here in the cold. I feel like a kayaker out in the ocean, who looks down and sees a giant shark-shaped shadow lurking underneath her.

A dark shape darts out from behind a tree. Then another, and another.

I clutch the stick and shrink back into the snow, trying to hide from the huge creatures I’ve summoned from the forest. A pack of giant wolves, staring down at me like I’m a hundred and forty pounds of raw meat. Dinner.

Four, no, five–oh my God–six wolves surround me, all sitting on their haunches, their snouts toward the sky howling.

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