Ripper(114)

When the doors opened, I ran. I ran as fast as I could toward the dark blue Jeep that represented freedom and safety. I might have made it if a big brown and white wolf hadn’t been between the car and me.

Wolves are way faster than elevators.

The force of stopping on a dime nearly set me on the ground. I managed to stop my fall, but the gun clattered to the floor. The wolf snarled and I wondered briefly if his clothes had ripped and torn around him or if he’d taken the time to unclothe before becoming the big, toothy predator in front of me. It’s funny the things that go through your brain when you know you’re going to die. Darren Castle was going to get his first blood and it would be mine. He wouldn’t knock me out and take me to a convenient location. He was going to kill me right here and right now.

What was more important? Survival or keeping my conscience clean? It was no question at all. One way I died and the other I had a chance at staying alive and being with Gray. That was all that mattered to me in that moment. I wanted to see Gray again. As the brown wolf leapt through the air, I let down every defense and let the beast take over.

This time it wasn’t a tiny ember that blossomed. It was a full-blown bonfire that raged through my body uncontrollably. Fear fled and in its place was a righteous certainty that I wanted to live.

The wolf flew through the air, his jaws opened wide. I felt the heat from his mouth as I kicked up and I shoved myself under the pouncing wolf, catching him in the chest and following through to shove him behind me.

Even before he hit the ground, I was up and looking. Through almost alien eyes, I took in everything in that sparse concrete-laden lot. During the times when I fully surrender to the beast, it’s as though I’m rewarded with superpowers. My every sense heightens and any fear I felt flees. I can still feel emotions, but they’re muted in comparison to the joy of the hunt, the anticipation of the kill.

There were only a few cars around at this time of day. Above me there was a wealth of pipes crisscrossing the ceiling and disappearing into the adjacent building. The wolf turned, growling in frustration as he got back up and began to run toward me again.

I leapt straight up, catching the pipe in both hands and swinging my legs back. The motion brought power with it and I timed it perfectly. I caught the werewolf in the jaw and was satisfied with the crack and the whimper as my opponent went down. I dropped down, knowing I had mere seconds before Darren recovered. My foot had caught him right across the jaw, but I hadn’t felt the bone break. I was still fighting my instincts on some level, and there was a part of me that was screaming to give it up and let them take over completely.

Stop pulling your fucking punches and let a real woman do the job, a voice inside me growled.

Fighting to maintain some semblance of control, I searched around for a weapon. I ran from car to car, looking for anything I could use, but freaking college professors aren’t big on carrying weapons. There was a lot of tweed and great literature, but nothing in the way of guns.

Darren landed on the late-model piece of crap I was searching and the hood dented under his weight. He snapped at my head and I leaned back before catching him in the snout with as much strength as I could put in my fist. I didn’t look back as I moved on to the next car and finally hit pay dirt.

Somebody actually played a sport, and lucky for me it was baseball. Unlucky for me Mr. Shortstop remembered to lock his car door. I was desperate enough to rear back and shove my fist through the back door window. It cracked against my fist, the pain blossoming, but I was able to ignore it. Blood start to run. It reminded me I needed to fight. My fist closed around the bat as the wolf leapt onto my back. He bit down ferociously on my shoulder, close to my neck. The sharp, terrible sensation pushed me straight over the edge.

I roared, the beast in me firmly in control. I threw my body back in an attempt to dislodge the wolf. We hit the Volvo behind us and Darren foolishly let go as his spine hit the car. I took the opportunity to run and regroup. Behind me, I heard the elevator doors open.

“Oh my gosh, lady, do you need help?” a middle-aged man asked, taking in the sight of a young woman being assaulted by what I was sure he would describe as a big dog.

Darren growled at the man, but he walked bravely forward. “Shoo!” he yelled in a strong voice.

I turned and he got a good look at me.

That was when he ran.

I didn’t have time to ponder that as Darren was running full throttle toward me. I took the proper stance, knees apart and a little bent. In my state, I grinned at the thought of letting one fly. My elbow was up in a perfect imitation of Jamie on the L. D. Bell High School baseball team. When Darren pounced, I swung and hit. This time I caught him full in the head and his whole body twisted with the force. He didn’t whimper. He didn’t moan. He just went down.