Pride's Run by Cat Kalen Page A

a napkin off the table, shakes it out and lays it over
his lap. He might as well be waving a red flag in front of a bull.
My nostrils flare and I zero in on his throat.
    Appearing unaffected by my outrage, the
master doesn’t waste any more time with me. With a nod he gestures
toward the door. “You leave at sunrise. Miss Kara will prepare
you.” And as simple as that, I’m dismissed.
    Lawrence grabs my leash and yanks it, but I
don’t move. I can’t tear my gaze away from the master’s smug face,
can’t stop thinking about what he’s going to look like when I’m
through with him.
    “Let’s move.” Lawrence’s voice cuts through
the riot pounding inside my head, and while I’m unable to settle my
scattered thoughts Clover’s last word keeps rushing to the
forefront.
    Run!
    But how can I possibly run when he’s holding
all the cards?
    How can I not?
    I think of the puppies and the lifetime of
abuse they’re about to endure at the hands of the master. I think
of the sacrifice the elders are willing to make, a sacrifice for me
and a sacrifice for the greater good. In that instant I make a
commitment to myself and vow their sacrifice will not go
unavenged.
    I’m going to crush him.
     

Chapter Five
    August 25 th Four days until full moon
     
    T he night is dark.
The rain heavy.
    From the back of the car I sink into the
plush leather seat and listen to the mesmerizing drone of the
wipers. They swish back and forth in a sleepy pattern as the driver
negotiates the near deserted highway with practiced ease. The
handler in the passenger seat leans forward and blasts the cool air
to keep the windows from fogging and a bitter chill moves through
me. Although I’m sure the chill has more to do with the deadly
adventure I’m about to embark on and less to do with the frigid air
nipping at my flesh.
    On either side of me sit two body-guards,
ones I’ve worked with before and know better than to cross. They’re
both big, brawny men with steroid-induced rage who wouldn’t think
twice of snapping my neck if I dared to even look at them the wrong
way.
    Following protocol, I keep my head down and
stare at my hands, which are neatly folded and resting on my lap. I
bide my time and try not to fidget under the uncomfortable
tightness of my form-fitting jeans. While I’d like to adjust the
waistband or at least open the button so I can breathe during this
long car ride, I know better than to make any questionable
movements. The results could be deadly.
    I never travel with my collar on—how would
that look if someone spotted it in passing, or if we were ever
pulled over—so I currently have two cocked guns aimed my way with
two trigger-happy men wielding them. They’re cruel men, like my
master, who love to torture and torment and I can tell they’re just
waiting for me to make one wrong move.
    As I think about the risks I plan on taking a
burst of anxiousness zings through my blood. I can’t mess this up.
I just can’t. Too many people are counting on me and I refuse to
let them down. Tonight is the night I have to escape.
    Tonight is the night I will escape.
    Then there will be no leashing my wolf,
because no matter what it takes, or how long it takes, I’m going to
put a stop to my master’s cruelties once and for all.
    I take a deep calming breath and pray the
opportunity to get out from under the guards’ watchful eyes
presents itself. Otherwise… I quickly squash that thought. There
cannot be an otherwise, because failure is not an option. I have to
do this. For the elders, the puppies.
    For my parents.
    My chest squeezes as I angle my head and turn
my attention back to the road. Earlier this morning, at the
beginning of our long journey I’d paid extra attention to each
twist and turn of the highway—I want to make sure I know my way
back—but we’ve been driving for close to twelve hours and I’ve long
ago lost track.
    Once again I think of the elders and my
stomach cramps. I’ll never forget that