Page 9 of Cold Foot King

“Shit,” she whispered, looking back at the open vent. What if he was at war with the other shifters inside? What if he burned alive?

She hated him. She hated what they had done. She hated what had been expected of them. She hated him for not figuring out a way to stop what had happened.

She hated how angry he’d been. Hated how he’d made her feel. Hated that he’d made her like something she had been trying so hard to reject. She hated the confusion that consumed her when she thought of him, or looked at him.

No one would ever know what had happened between them if he disappeared. She should be able to run away and never look back, but she stood frozen. Why? Because her animal was waking up and forcing her to question everything. Sometimes she thought the lioness was nicer than her human side. She should probably be ashamed of that, but she wasn’t.

Katrina was what she was. She’d been built into this, and she understood how to be cold. So why was she struggling so badly to follow her cellmate out into those woods and to freedom? She was right there!

Damon was flying away, burning lines of fire and lava into the woods on the other side of the prison.

“Go without me,” she said to Raynah.

“What? No! Let’s go. There’s nothing you can do for him.”

“I have to try,” she murmured, jogging back toward the prison.

“Kat!” Raynah called, but she ignored her.

There was a door fifty yards to the right of the vent. She checked the dragon’s position. He still hadn’t seen her. Bright side, the phoenix wasn’t here. Wreck Itall would’ve had this place burned to the ground already with his agonizing fire. He was destruction. She’d died by his fire before, and she still didn’t understand how she’d come back from the dead.

The dragon’s fire was awful, but it was straightforward—get burned and die. The phoenix’s fire could drag you to hell, let you burn there, and drag you screaming back out, traumatizing the animal completely.

Wreck was the biggest monster in the world. She would take that blue dragon in the air any day over him.

She pushed her legs harder, sprinting for the door. It was only half-height—an emergency exit, perhaps. It had a handle though, and a keypad that said she could get into it if she was strong enough, or if the fires were shorting out the locking mechanisms.

A growl rattled her throat. She gasped and clutched her hand to where the sound had come from. She’d taken her medicine this morning, so there wasn’t a reason for her animal to be accessible. She hadn’t heard a growl in months.

A wave of terror washed over her as she realized Damon’s dragon was circling the prison. She reached the door and yanked the handle as hard as she could. Grunting, she pulled again, bracing her foot against the wall beside it. A bloodcurdling scream sounded behind her, and the terror in Raynah’s voice dragged chills up her spine. Katrina turned to see a huge armored Hummer plowing through the fence. The sound of gunfire shocked her. The guards had backup. Raynah went to her knees just inside of the fence. Why was she still here? She should’ve been to the woods by now!

“Raynah!” Katrina screamed as her cellmate swayed on her knees. She was holding her stomach protectively.

There were people in ski masks filing out of the Hummer, weapons aimed at Raynah, and two were headed toward Katrina.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” she roared, her blood boiling.

The shorter attacker fired at Katrina, and piercing pain took her arm. The fury dragged her lioness to the surface, but it wasn’t enough yet! She couldn’t Change.

Another shot. Same arm. They were either bad at aiming, or they were trying to take her alive.

She pushed her legs harder in a burst of speed, and leapt through the air, caught the assailant’s neck between her legs, flung them around, and slammed them onto the ground.

“What the hell?” someone—a man—yelled from behind his mask.

There was a snarl in his voice. Shifter. Katrina had hit the ground hard, but sprung to her feet and bolted for him.

“Stop!” he ordered.

She did not stop. Couldn’t, at this point. Too mad. Too bloodthirsty.

“Shoot her!” one of the other attackers yelled, striding for them. The voice was familiar.

“It’ll be her third tranq!” the other said.

Almost there.

“Now!” the man ordered. That voice. That familiar voice!

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