He could feel the fur along his spine lift and the buzzing sound of the Fury began to fill his ears. Roarn shook his head to clear it—he couldn’t let the Fury take over now. He had to find Christine and bring her home.
Instead of taking the dirt and gravel road, he climbed the steep, wooded ridge that started in her backyard behind the woodpile. He went quietly, moving through the dense underbrush and bushes as silently as a cat prowling for prey. As he got closer, he could hear human voices—some from outside the rusty rectangular domicile—and some raised in agitation from the inside of it.
None of the voices Roarn heard were Christine’s, but he could still smell her scent, coming from the air that circulated through the cracks in the rusty structure. She was inside—he was sure of it! Now he had to find a way to get her out.
Break in and kill them—kill all who try to hurt her! the Fury buzzed in his ears. Roarn tried to push it back. He had to be careful—he couldn’t give into the madness that threatened to overtake his mind. He was no better than a beast when the Fury consumed him—he might make the situation worse. After all, he didn’t know for certain that she was in danger—though he felt it in his gut. He needed to be sure before he went bursting in and—
“…call for backup.” The voice of one of the human males at the front of the rusty domicile drifted to Roarn’s sensitive ears. He was on alert at once—his ears pricked forward. He was on one long side of the trailer and the conversation was on the other side, presumably at the entrance to the dilapidated domicile.
Then one of the human males—one of the anus neighbors—started shouting from inside the cabin.
Roarn crouched low, his muscles bunched with readiness.
“Listen up, Sheriff—we got two hostages here and we also got some demands!” the voice of the anus neighbor proclaimed.
“Demands? What the hell are you talkin’ about, Fenster?” one of the males who was standing at the front entrance asked.
“You heard me—demands!” the neighbor who must be Fenster insisted. “First, we want a million—no, five million—dollars in small, unmarked bills. Second, we want a helicopter to come land in front of the trailer and pick us up and take us to the airport. At the airport, you’re gonna have a private jet waiting to take us wherever we want to go. We’re gonna leave the country and nobody is gonna follow us. Those are our demands.”
“Boy, are you high?” the first male demanded. “Where in the hell do you think I’m gonna get five million dollars and a private jet? This town doesn’t even have the money for a dispatcher! And there ain’t no room out here in front of your trailer for a helicopter to land, even if I could get one—which I can’t!”
“None of that is my problem!” Fenster snarled. “You either meet our demands in twenty-four hours, or I’m gonna fuck little Jenny here and blow the Christine cunt’s head off!”
At these words, Roarn felt something inside him—some fragile barrier that had been holding his sanity in check—break. Christine was in danger—the evil neighbor was threatening to kill her! The Fury, which had been buzzing at the corners of his mind, came rushing in, covered everything like a wave of burning blood. All Roarn could see was red—all he knew was that the female he wanted for his mate was being threatened.
Now—have to get to her NOW! he thought.
And then all rational thoughts ended and emotion took over entirely as the Fury swallowed him whole.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Christine listened with increasing dismay to Mike Fenster’s list of “demands.” What the hell was wrong with him? Either he was high on his own product, or he had watched way too many heist movies.
The only good thing in the whole situation was that he was no longer pointing the shotgun at her face. He still had it in his hand but he had left her and stalked over to shout at Sheriff Wainright through the door. Christine felt immensely relieved not to have the gun leveled at her anymore but then Mike started shouting that if the Sheriff didn’t meet his ridiculous demands, he was going to rape jenny and shoot Christine’s head off!
And then, everything seemed to happen at once.
Christine heard a roar like an angry animal coming from behind the thin wall of the trailer’s living area. Then there was a rending, ripping, shrieking noise, like someone was tearing metal.
Gasping, she turned her head to see that someone was, in fact, ripping a hole in the long wall of the trailer behind her. They were slicing into it as though it was no thicker than a tin can and peeling back big sections of the aluminum siding.