Page 31 of Psycho Pack

But not threatening.

Not like the sounds he made at us.

This is different.

Softer.

Like the sounds I make for her.

My pack shifts behind me.

Their scents carry fear, rage, bloodlust.

Ready to attack if he moves wrong.

But he won't.

I know he won't.

I see myself in him.

Broken.

Ruined.

Monster playing at being man.

But she sees past that.

Past the rage and scars and pain.

Like she sees past mine.

"We need to get him out of here," Ivy says.

Her voice is soft but carries steel beneath.

Whiskey snorts. "How?"

I snarl at him without thinking.

He backs up a step.

Good.

The Knight's head snaps toward the sound.

But Ivy's hand on his mask keeps him still.

Black blood drips steadily from where we tore out his rods.

He's dying.

Slowly.

I grab one of the thick chains trailing from his back.

Start pulling.

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