Page 39 of The Last Sanctuary
She needed to stay hidden. Her life depended on it. She could only pray these jerkwads didn’t harm the wolves.
“Easy now.” Vaughn put his hand on the barrel of Rex’s rifle and forced him to lower it. “Not yet. We don’t want to waste the meat or ruin the pelt. And that’s a magnificent pelt. Prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Rex gave a careless shrug. He fixed his gaze on Shadow, his eyes gleaming. “I call that one.”
“Who says it’s yours?” Damian asked.
Rex spat on the ground. “It’s certainly notyours, kid.”
Dekker rolled his eyes. “It’s just an overgrown dog.”
“That right there is an apex predator, my friend. You treat a prize like that with respect.” Vaughn spoke with a measure of awe in his voice, awe and something like longing.
“Sure, whatever.” Dekker seized another rock and heaved it at the wolf. It struck Shadow in the flank.
The wolf yelped. He leaped forward with a savage snarl. Behind him, the white wolf appeared. She plunged out of the trees and loped to a spot beside her mate. She snapped her jaws, ears flattened against her skull, and eyes blazing.
Vaughn straightened. His entire face lit with greedy, rapacious desire. “Look what we have here. There he is, in all his glory. You were right, kid. That white pelt is fit for a king.”
Dread coiled in Raven’s stomach. She hated the way the bikers viewed the wolves—like trophies. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from screaming. She wanted the men to just leave. Better yet, she wished she could set each one of them on fire and burn them alive.
Vaughn turned away from the fence. He glared at his men. “The white wolf is mine. No one touches him until tomorrow.”
“How long are we staying here?” Dekker asked.
“Antsy already?” Vaughn dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Everything in its time. We’re in no rush. We seize opportunities as we find them, remember? This right here is a golden opportunity. And we have you to thank for it.”
Dekker stepped in close to Vaughn. “We’re wasting time. There’s too much to do. We can’t afford to waste days here and squander?—”
Vaughn’s expression went hard. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
Dekker scowled. For a second, he looked almost mutinous. After a tense moment, his face cleared, and he smiled lazily. “Sure thing, boss.”
Vaughn turned his back on Dekker. “Let’s go.”
Dekker stayed behind as the others followed Vaughn along the path back toward the lodge. Damien glanced back at Dekker, a question on his face. “You coming?”
Dekker didn’t bother to answer him. He stood staring into the pen with his hands folded behind his back, his legs spread wide. Damien shrugged, then left with the others.
Once he was alone, Dekker bent to the grass, felt around for more stones in the dirt, and chucked them one by one at the wolves. One struck Luna on her right foreleg. The second one hit Shadow’s flank.
“How you like them apples?”
The wolves snarled.
Dekker smiled, an eerie, oily smile that set Raven’s teeth on edge. “Don’t like me, do you? The feeling’s mutual.”
The wolves fell back, growling and snapping in impotent fury.
“I hate dogs. Nothing to do but put you down in the dirt where you belong.” His expression was scornful, malignant. He made the shape of a gun with his fingers and pointed it first at Shadow, then Luna. “Bang, bang. You’re dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
After Dekker left, Raven didn’t move from beneath the pine tree for several long minutes. Anger sizzled through her like an electrical current. Anger and fear, knotted and jagged, and not just for herself.
Shaking, she gritted her teeth. How dare they mock the wolves? How dare they hurt such marvelous creatures? She wanted to hit something, to pound her fists against the nearest tree and scream her frustration.
Or better yet, take out her anger on the bikers. Maybe throw some rocks at Dekker’s face, give him a taste of his own medicine. The thought gave her a moment of grim satisfaction.
