Page 55 of Defeated

Penny speaks for the first time. “Chris, you?—”

I hang up on her. I feel shit for doing it, but I’ve told them everything I know, and Zoe might need me now.

I put my cell phone on the dining table, and I start stripping.

Two shifters came into the house and chased Zoe from it, but that doesn’t mean there are only two shifters out there.

I drop into a crouch, reach for my wolf, and I hope I’m not too late to save her.

19

ZOE

Ileave a trail of screams in my mad dash through town.

Four from women and a surprisingly high-pitched one from a man in a gray suit as he flung himself out of the way.

The footsteps pounding behind me never slow.

Occasionally, I hear a man call out, “Move. Our dog has gotten loose.”

The screams tell me no one is convinced I’m a dog, but a wolf.

I lose the shifters chasing me down by darting through an alley between a boutique and a florist, only to pick them up a couple of blocks later.

They may be in their human form, but they still have the benefit of shifter noses to track me down. I need to think of something else, do something else, if I want to evade them.

My paws hurt from pounding hard concrete, and my breathing is loud as I pass by shops and offices to reach the part of town I’ve never been before.

In the distance, warehouses and factories—some abandoned, others filled with the sound of banging and yells—come into view. The stench of rotting food, of piss and shit, hopefully animal not human, means slowing to dodge. That and broken bottles that would end this chase far sooner than I would want if I’m not careful.

Behind me, the shifters are relentless, their breaths labored and ragged from chasing me through town. But they’ve kept up, for the most part, and although I still have some energy, I need more if I’m going to win in a fight with them.

Rounding a factory, I spot a twisted metal fence, gauge it’s just big enough for me to slip through and dart toward it.

One man yells something.

I ignore him. If they think I’m interested in anything they have to say, they must be stupid.

Getting through the small gap in the fence is a squeeze, and I swear I leave more fur in the fence than I would want to. I swallow my growls of pain and panic when I hear another shout go up behind me, wiggling and twisting to force myself through the gap.

And then I’m through, with a massive, abandoned factory up ahead. If it smells as bad on the inside as it does on the outside, it has to have a million places to hide myself and my scent.

I sprint toward it, ignoring my pursuers yells at me to come back.

Go back? Why would I do a thing like that?

I duck inside the factory through the twisted black shutters, dodging more broken bottles, piss and rotting food. And I start looking for somewhere I can lie low, rest up, and dart out of here while these shifters are busy looking for me somewhere else.

The factory is like a warren made up of a series of interconnected rooms. Some with dusty machinery. Others with cardboard boxes, bottles, and signs homeless people have been sleeping in here. I hurtle through rooms so dusty, running past is enough to make me sneeze.

Behind me, I hear the men charge after me.

When stairs come into sight, I don’t hesitate to throw myself up them.

The smell is rancid up here, like someone left meat to rot or something died. I hold my breath as I slip into a dust-filled room on the left where the shifters can’t use their noses to track me. A massive piece of iron machinery that dominates the room seems the perfect place to hide.

I tuck myself behind it.

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