Page 11 of Griffin Undone
I spun in the opposite direction and turned into the next alley, running parallel to the street Richard was on. A burst of speed drove me down to the next road and up the other side of the block before the man could get past me to safety.
A quick snatch and grab and Richard’s quivering body dangled from my grip. The feel of his struggling, the stench of his fear in my nose had satisfaction surging. I dragged him relentlessly down a backstreet and into the dark recesses of an alley. “We discussed this, didn’t we, Richard?” I bared my fangs, and the red-veined whites of Richard’s eyes made another appearance. “Where did you think you were going?”
“I-I… Nowhere, s-sir, no—nowhere.” He swallowed hard, the saliva a solid lump as it passed through the fist tight around his neck. “I wasn’t going anywhere!”
At least the idiot wasn’t pissing himself. I had to feed, not put up with the stink—even if the occasional poor slob wetting himself in fear did appease something inside me that had nothing to do with blood.
Yanking the trembling man close, I forced his head to the side, baring his neck and a pulse that threatened to burst through his jugular. My mouth watered. I struck quick, fangs piercing the vein, retracting, a snake strike intended to open access to the blood flow without marring the victim’s skin. If I allowed my fangs to push a bit deeper than usual, if I was a bit rougher than I normally would be, that was all the human deserved. I fastened my mouth onto the weeping bite and drank deep.
The blood welled in my mouth, my body soaking it up even as I swallowed, the nutrients it contained filling out my blood cells with every suck. When my belly was full and Richard was listing, I lowered him to the ground behind a garbage bin and crouched over him. The scent of AB neg overtook the stink of trash, thank fuck.
Richard fumbled in his coat pocket, fingers trembling. I allowed a toothy smile as I retrieved a cloth square from his pocket and applied pressure to the sluggishly bleeding wound.
“Now, where were you going?” I asked.
Richard shivered, his knuckles turning white as he pressed the cloth tighter to his jugular. “I’m sorry. I was…I was scared.”
“And that matters why?”
“It doesn’t.” He closed his eyes, drew a ragged breath. “I’m sorry.”
I should feel sorry for the man. Homeless. Needy. Men like him were easy pickings for the Anigma—and for creatures like me. But I didn’t have that in me. Instead I took pity on him by pacing off a few steps, allowing my anger to calm, giving the human a few minutes to pull himself together. Richard knew better than to take off again without permission.
When my tension had settled enough to bring my voice down to only faintly menacing, I knelt before him again. “What happened?”
Richard laughed, the sound both weak and verging on hysteria. “The compound. They…came back a few hours ago.”
I didn’t have to ask who. I didn’t have to ask anything; Richard deflated like a spent balloon, words pouring out with the escaping air.
“The commander, he was—” The word wobbled hard. “He was wounded; several of them were. But him…God. Then they told him the target—that’s what they called it,the target—wasn’t with them. He lost it.” Richard opened his eyes, and in them I saw how badly Maddox had taken that particular piece of news. “He grabbed one of the workers, and he…he ripped—” Richard lurched to the side and puked.
I stepped away from the mess. So Maddox wasn’t happy; my instincts had been right on the money. The smile I gave Richard this time was genuine. The shiver that ran through him told me he didn’t appreciate that fact.
Richard used the bloody handkerchief to clean his mouth. When he finished, I asked, “Is he alive?”
“God, no. His head was—”
“The commander.” If the man who’d been killed worked for the Anigma, as Richard did, then he was expendable.
Richard rolled eyes shining with confusion and fear up at me. “He had a hole…” One hand rubbed his chest. “Yeah, he’s alive. Barely.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “How, I don’t know. The others didn’t either. They said even a sadistic SOB like him might not be stubborn enough to survivethat.”
I grunted. I could’ve schooled them all on exactly how stubborn Maddox was. The bastard would survive anything but a severed spine.
“The target…”
Richard’s voice lost all strength at my sharp look. “What about the target?”
Richard cleared his throat. “They said it had to be found. A million dollars, that’s what they offered. A million dollars to the person who found the target and delivered it to Maddox within forty-eight hours. What”—another cough—“what are they looking for?”
Without answering, I pulled a wad of cash out of my pocket, counted out the usual amount, then added a hundred. “How do they plan to find her?”
“Her?” Richard eyed the money warily, but his lips pressed tight together. Maybe the man had some loyalty yet, or sympathy for the weaker sex.
I hissed a warning.
The human flinched. “W-werew-wolves.”
The stuttered word lilted up at the end, almost a question. I ignored it. Maddox’s werewolf brothers were never far from his side. If Maddox was bringing them in, they would be on the female’s trail in far fewer than forty-eight hours. The bounty guaranteed every other asshole in the area would be searching too. I had to move her, but in her state, moving might kill her.
