Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
A third wolf appears between them. My heart leaps. Is it Brick? But the closer the trio come, the less I feel certain it’s him. Brick’s wolf is tan with a black streak running from chin to chest. This wolf is gray with white splashed around its muzzle.
They’re so close, I see their glowing eyes. A pair of blue between two red. And I don’t know if they’re friends or foes.
Ice coats my lungs, making my breath sob out of me. I whirl and limp the final feet to the trees. Each step jars my ankle, making pain radiate up my leg, sparking tears. I can’t run, not like this. I can’t outpace my hunters. But maybe I can hide.
In the shadows of the towering pines, the snow’s mounded under a thin crust of ice. I stagger into the deeper drifts, crying out as my chafed hands break the crust and plunge into the powdery depths. Each step is like lumbering through sand.
The wolves are less than a hundred feet away. I’m not going to make it–
With a snarl, the gray wolf turns and leaps on the black wolf on its right. They disappear in a flurry of snow. The wet sounds and growls tell me they’re fighting.
A new wave of adrenaline hits my bloodstream, carries me a few feet more.
Behind me, the single black wolf dashes the last bit of distance towards me. In no time, it’s on me, all horrible teeth and fur and crazed red eyes. Something tears at my calf, and I cry out. I throw myself to the side, trying to get out of the way, and my jacket tears. Feathers fill the air. The black wolf rises to hind legs, the end of my jacket in its jaws. It pulls me off my feet. I’m thrashing and crying, trying to get free of the coat. I’m yanked back, then the coat goes slack. I fall–hard–on the ice, and it scrapes my face. The jacket’s still half on my aching arms. Its hem is torn, but the black wolf is gone.
Not gone, fighting for its life. The grey wolf is beside it, snarling and snapping at its side. They reach the lake’s edge and plow into the drift, the gray one on top of the black.
I detour right and fight my way through the deep snow, thrashing until my feet find purchase. It’s a stroke of luck that I don't lose a boot. I clamber out of the drift and find solid ground under an evergreen bush.
I scramble on hands and knees. Twigs poke my face, but I hunch, head down, and push to the other side and into a clearing. The way ahead is through an endless forest of black trunks.
Behind me, there’s a whimper, then a roar blasts my back. One of the wolves has won. It’ll come for me.
I grab a fallen branch and force myself upright, favoring my unhurt ankle. I can’t run anymore. And I can’t hide, not in this bright red parka.
The gray and white wolf pushes past the underbrush. It’s huge, with bright blood soaking the white fur under its long fangs.
My jaw has cramped, it barely opens enough to let out my scream. This is it. Brick will find me here, torn to pieces. I use the last of my strength to raise the branch. Maybe he’ll know I didn’t go down without a fight.
The wolf paces towards me. Its eyes glow electric blue. It’s not Brick. His wolf has amber eyes.
The wolf is almost on me. My legs are close to giving out.
It’s now or never.
I slam the branch toward it. It jerks back, and I miss. The wolf rears to hind legs, morphing before my eyes. White fur disappears, becomes white and pink skin–something human. I should hit it now, when it’s vulnerable, but my next swipe overbalances me, and I have to use the branch to prop myself upright. By the time I raise the branch again, the wolf has become a man.
A familiar looking man. Scowling face, strong jaw–I know him.
It’s Billy, towering over me. Barefoot, ankle deep in the snow and very, very naked.
Of all the wolves to catch up to me, it has to be the one from Brick’s posse who hates me most. He’s probably here to kill me and tell Brick the Adalwulfs are responsible.
Fuck him to infinity and back. I swing the branch at him again and get a solid hit into his chest. Rage gives me strength.
“What the fuck! I’m trying to help you.” He grabs the branch, and we struggle. I’m bellowing nonsense, doing my best to drive the branch through his solid pec into his heart. I get a few whacks in before he wrenches my weapon out of my trembling arms. He glares at me, bits of bark clinging to his stubbled jaw. “Stupid human.”