Page 13 of Monsters After Dark

“I’d like permission to remove the muzzle, then, if I feel comfortable with it. If he’s bound, it should be fine. I won’t if I don’t like his body language.”

“You want to take that risk, that’s your choice. We’ll be down with a few men shortly. We’ll monitor from the observation deck. If things go south, we’ll intervene. He’s on B Level in containment cell four.”

The men both stood, and Moira took it as her cue to leave.

* * *

The walkto the freezer and then to his cell was fraught with worries and failed attempts to develop a plan of action. It was going to be harder to read his body language with him bound, but she hoped she could make enough progress with him to save his life.

Her keycard granted her access to the observation deck above his cell, and Moira stopped to assess the situation before she went down. Just like they’d said, he was stretched out and bound by metal containment bands that could only be released remotely via a coded entry.

They’d laid him on his belly with his steel-cage muzzle plastered to the floor, his arms bound to his torso at his shoulders, chest, and waist, and his legs banded at his thighs, knees, and ankles. He was huge, easily double the size of her boys.

It was a miserable-looking position, and Moira had no trouble envisioning them dumping him on the floor and leaving him how he lay with no concern for his comfort.

Sighing, she turned away from the window and made her way through the next door and down the stairs to the entrance of his pen. Moira left her badge and picked up the remote for his correction collar, then coded the door that would release her into the enclosure.

As the door rolled back, he erupted in a vicious, bone-jarring growl. His ears pressed flat against his skull as the eye facing her rolled in her direction. Through the steel basket of his muzzle, she saw the wicked white of his teeth as he snarled. It was a convincing threat, even with him bound. Moira hesitated a second before she forced herself to step over the threshold.

His noise was deafening, rattling through the space and echoing off the walls above. Knowing it would be impossible for him to hear her until he stopped, she lifted her hands, made eye contact briefly, and then averted her gaze again. She showed him her palms as she edged closer, a bucket of meat dangling from the crook of her elbow.

She stayed in the center of his left eye’s field of vision so he didn’t think she was trying to sneak around him. Seven feet away, she stopped, unable to make herself get closer. She knelt and sat back on her heels, slowly relaxing her arms and setting the bucket down beside her. Then she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Moira glanced up periodically, but never held his gaze. She didn’t want to challenge him when he already felt threatened.

She wasn’t sure how long it took for the growling and snarling to wane. Ten minutes? Fifteen? She waited until the noise died down to wary bursts before she tried to engage.

Moira finally allowed herself to meet his gaze, though she kept her head angled down and her posture neutral.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she murmured, “but I will not hurt you. I have the controller for your collar, but I don’t want to use it, and I don’t have any other weapons. I just want to talk to you.”

He huffed at her, but his growling stuttered to a stop.

Moira sighed in relief and nodded. “Good. That’s good. I brought you something to eat, but I can’t take off your muzzle until I know you a little better, so I’d like us to talk awhile first.”

He narrowed his eye and sneezed, which Moira recognized from her time with the other wolves as an expression of skepticism.

“Oh, I know you can’t talk, but we can still communicate. I’ll ask you yes or no questions, and to answer, you can put your ears forward for yes or grunt for no. Does that work?”

He angled his head in her direction, far enough she could see both icy-blue irises scrutinizing her instead of just one. A few seconds passed in silence, and Moira wondered if he even understood her, until the triangular ears released from their pinned position and pivoted to face her. Just as quickly, they snapped back against his skull.

Moira smiled again.

“Good. I’m glad.” She relaxed a little, settling into her position. “Has anyone explained why you’re here?”

He grunted, shifting uncomfortably as he focused on her.

Moira bit back another smile, glad he was cooperating, but not wanting him to think she enjoyed what she had to say.

“I’m sorry. They seem to forget there’s still a man in there under all that fur.” She took a deep breath, readying herself for the explanation. “This facility is… Well, I guess it’s a weapons technology company. For the past eight years, they’ve captured and trained werewolves for specific operations. There are three teams right now; each one is hired out for missions. Sometimes it’s government, sometimes its private sector, but basically, you guys are like… attack dogs on steroids. Besides missions and training, the weres live here in the facility. Understand?”

He wrinkled his muzzle, flicked his ears forward, then pressed them back.

“I won’t lie to you—werewolves who don’t assimilate into the program are disposed of. They don’t want assets they can’t control. Right now, that’s what you are: an asset they can’t control. They want you in the program, but not if you’re killing employees and being combative.”

He interrupted her with a guttural growl. Moira swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to let the vicious noise affect her. “No, I understand. It’s a screwed-up situation. No one deserves to have their freedom taken away. It’s not ideal by any means, but some of the boys… some weres, I mean… they enjoy the work. It’s better than being dead, right?”

Other than continuing to rumble at her, he didn’t respond.

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