Page 10 of Never Submit

The aches in my limbs deepen as I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs.

Part of me hopes the men are looking for me, trying to rescue me, but another part is terrified that they’ll succeed. Why? Because Andras’s last words to me have haunted my thoughts since he left.

“I’m counting on it.”

Hewantsthem to come here, and that means he has plans. Deadly plans. It’s a trap, and I’m meant to be the bait.

Are my wolves smart enough to stay out of trouble? Tosomehow counter the madman's plans and find a way to stay safeandrescue me? That kind of thing happens in fairy tales but not in real life.

I can’t have the guys walk into their deaths because of me. And if they aren’t coming, I’m on my own. Either way, that only leaves one real option.

I need to find a way outnow.

I may have dodged the death promised by my curse, but death is still coming for me if I stay here. It’s guaranteed.

Step one is getting out of this cage.

When the rumbles of voices outside the room go silent for an extended period of time, I move. This is my shot.

I shift to the rear of the cell, shimmying between the bars and the rock.

The wounds on my back throb to attention as I tear up the skin again. I force the air from my lungs, able to get one leg and arm through the small space before I catch. My chest tightens, my heart racing and my stomach taking a deep dive toward sick territory again.

Tears well in my eyes, but I know it’s a small price to pay compared to what’s coming.

Twisting myself to an unnatural angle, I try to slide the rest of myself out, but my damn boobs are in the way. Stupid damn boobs.

Shit.

Not knowing what else to do, I place both hands on the bars pinning me in place and push with all my strength. It’s futile, I know, but I only need a few more inches and I’ll be free.

As expected, they don’t budge.

Ugh. Of course they don’t. I’m definitely not Supergirl. I’mjust me.

My mind races, scrambling, going in a thousand directions at once.

The rips and tears in Andras’s shirt, the dried blood on his skin there… He told me to shift; he told me he’d seen my wolf.

I’m not a wolf.

Clearly, the guy has an entire toolbox of screws loose, but whenever I try to remember what happened during our standoff in the woods, the moment is still a missing puzzle piece in my memory.

I’mnota wolf. I’m a human. A very unluckyhuman.

Frustration vibrates through my muscles, and I grip the bars tighter, hoping that by some miracle Andras suddenly becomes right and I am granted the same kind of strength and power as Dax or the other wolves.

I have to get out. I have to. Wolf strength would get me out, if I had it.

I didn’t survive my birthday just to die in this horrible place.No way.

At first, there’s only the sound of my labored breathing, and the sensation of my body straining against the unyielding bars.

But then something strange happens.

The tips of my fingers tingle, a sharp, almost painful sensation.

Curses fall from my lips as my heart races even faster, determined to do something helpful to grant my freedom, and to my horror my nails lengthen. Curve.

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