Stray (20 page)

Taking a breath, I let the silence fall between us. The audience clamoured, and I returned my attention to the centre ring. Two wolves emerged from the preparation chamber. They were both timbers by the look of it, one a little darker than the other. My stomach lurched when I glanced at the bandanas tied to each of the wolves’ collars.

Every Dom used a set of three bandanas and tied them to the sub’s collar just before a fight. These bandanas were treated like flags, and they all represented a set number of points. The closer the wolves were to the centre of the ring when a flag was removed, the better. Removing a flag in close quarters was a risk not many wolves were willing to take, but the incentive to do so was extremely high.

And that was where the injuries came in. One wolf, usually the stronger of the two, would force the other to the centre of the ring by biting anywhere along the body aside from the neck—near the flags. It was a hard game, and if the wolves shared the same strength, one round could last as long as an entire game. It all came down to how the wolves played, if their Doms barked orders or if the subs were free to act on instinct alone.

“He’s here,” I said to Dylan, pointing at the wolf wearing a set of orange-and-red bandanas.

“His mark?” Dylan asked, referring to the bandanas.

“Yes.” I pointed at the collar. “Same collar, too.”

“Damn that bastard,” Dylan growled, so loud in fact that he got the attention of a few viewers in front of us. Dylan didn’t apologise. “Can you see him?”

I’d already scanned the area around the ring, but if Anthony was there, I couldn’t see him. I shook my head. “Not yet, no.”

“What do you want to do?” Dylan was already standing up to leave, holding his hand out to me so I could do the same.

“I’m going to stay.” He lowered into his seat. “If Anthony’s here, this might be the only way for us to catch him. You said yourself that he has to get caught by the community. What better way to do it than to stay and watch?”

“What should we be watching for?” Patrick asked, talking around Marnie.

“The sub probably won’t run outside the centre ring. That’s not how Anthony plays. Watch for the sub to yelp and cower. That will be Anthony using the shock collar. The sub might also have a limp depending on past injuries and Anthony’s lack of care for them.”

Patrick’s jaw tightened, and I could see he was struggling with the information just as much as Dylan had when I’d first told him. It was highly unlikely that we’d be able to hear Anthony’s voice from all the way up here, close to the top of the stands. But if the sub used one of the long catwalks to escape to the outer ring, we might be able to see old scars under thin layers of fur.

The audience quieted. The lights above us turned off, leaving just the two spotlights on the wolves in the centre ring. The fight was about to begin.

Chapter Twenty

A long moment passed. The audience held its breath. I’d stopped breathing long ago. Marnie hugged my arm. Dylan held my hand. I tried not to shake. I wasn’t sure which was worse—the prolonged silence and motionless wolves, or how concerned my family was for me. If I hadn’t been awake before, I was now. And no matter what was about to happen, I couldn’t look away.

An announcer spoke overhead as the wolves got into position. Anthony’s wolf climbed a set of steps on the right as his opponent climbed the one on the left. Both of them stood at opposite ends of the main catwalk—the centre of the ring and the starting point for this kennel fight.

Anthony’s wolf limped forward and held his head low, already submitting to the other wolf before the fight had even begun.

“He’s submitting?” Dylan asked, not taking his eyes away from the ring.

“It’s a trick,” I assured him. “One of Anthony’s old games.”

“And the limp?”

I winced. “The limp is real.”

“Noted.”

From this distance, it was hard to tell how many injuries Anthony’s wolf had, or if he had any at all. I was certain he did, even if they weren’t visible to those around him. Sure, I had horrible scars from what he’d done to me, but not all scars were physical.
You’re letting him get to you.
He had no control over me anymore—well, he shouldn’t have had control over me. I gave it to him now anyway.

I sank down in my seat, ignoring Dylan’s concerned glance. I could still see the wolves on the catwalks. I didn’t have to see anything else. And while Anthony probably couldn’t pick my face out of a crowd as large as this, my paranoia had already set in.

The whistle blew, and both wolves started towards one another. Anthony’s sub was still submitting, causing the other wolf to feel overconfident. The wolves met in the middle of the catwalk, and their dance began.

The confident wolf made the mistake of going right for the throat, for the flags around the other one’s neck. I was half expecting Anthony’s wolf to step to one side, to knock his attacker off balance. He stood perfectly still, jumping when a flag was removed. Both wolves yelped and appeared to be dazed.

“Was that what I thought it was?” Patrick asked, looking over at me.

“The collar,” I mumbled. “He’s found a way to use it on both wolves.” And for both of them to cry out the way they had, the voltage on the shock collar must’ve been extremely high.

I sat up in my chair, surprised, when the same thing happened again. And I wasn’t the only one. The audience roared around us.

Dylan touched my hand. “He’s throwing the fight.”

I shook my head. It didn’t make sense. “More like the sub’s fighting back against Anthony.” Losing a fight meant he wouldn’t get any money. It was passive-aggressive, but it would work. Especially when Anthony was involved.

Dylan got up from his chair, glaring at me as I went to do the same. “Stay here. I’m going to talk to one of the kennel monitors.”

Nerves knotted in my stomach as Dylan walked down the stands, looking a little more determined with every step he took. He slowly faded far beneath us, his head barely visible through the excited audience.

When I saw him again, Dylan’s shoulders slumped forward, his jaw set in such a way that I already knew what he was going to say before he returned to his seat.

“Well?” Patrick asked. “What did he say?”

“Shock collars are allowed.” Dylan sank into his chair, holding his head between his knees. “Something about training bratty subs.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t they realise what’s going on?” Patrick asked.

“They wouldn’t,” I said, rubbing Dylan’s knee. “Anthony did most of the abuse at home. Whatever injuries his wolf has now, he can probably explain them away as being from fights just like this one.”

“What about mental injuries?” Dylan pointed out.

“Again, explained away as from a past trauma, probably before Anthony came into the picture.”

“His word against the sub’s.”

“Exactly.” I considered my next words carefully. What Anthony had done to me was inexcusable, and what he was still doing to other wolves…there was no reason it had to continue. “What about my scars?”

“What about them?”

“What if we showed the kennel monitors the scars Anthony left on me? I know they keep a record of past fights.”

“Your scars aren’t as bad as they used to be. They just look like marks from a flogger now. And again, it’s your word against his.”

“Then let me fight.”

Marnie, Patrick and Dylan all looked at me and spoke in unison. “What?”

“If I fight, I can get in the same room as this other sub. Maybe I can…”

“What? You can what?” Patrick asked, sounding just as anxious about this as I was.

“I was going to say I could talk to him, but—”

“Alyssa can’t talk as a wolf,” Dylan finished for me. “Just another thing Anthony took from her. Too many shocks. Her body’s conditioned not to talk while in that form. And we all know shifting into human form is against the rules. It’ll get us all kicked out. For good, too.”

“And if we want a chance at this, we can’t screw up.” I glanced at Dylan and pursed my lips. “Get me in the same room as him. I can tell you where the injuries are.”

“And if that isn’t enough?”

“I’ll fight. Knowing Anthony, he’s bound to slip up somehow.”

Dylan bowed his head, then looked to the others. Both Marnie and Patrick nodded. “Then it’s agreed,” Dylan decided. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get you in that ring. But, Alyssa, if it’s too much, you need to tell me. Got it?”

“That won’t be a problem.” Anthony had scared me away once before. I’d be damned if I’d let it happen again. I didn’t belong to him anymore, and I refused to back down.

We left shortly after that.

Chapter Twenty-One

Our return home had been a quiet one. Marnie had retired to her room for some much-needed rest, Dylan had headed back to the office, and I’d sat in the dining room to catch up on some work. I’d already written a series of articles earlier this morning and decided to stop for lunch. But when I went to join Marnie in the kitchen, she wasn’t there. I studied the cookware—it looked as though she hadn’t come down from her room at all.

Knowing she wasn’t one to sleep for hours at a time, I turned off my laptop and headed upstairs. I was on my way to Marnie’s room when I heard her sobbing in Dylan’s bathroom. She’d never cried around me before, and just that sound alone caused my heart to ache. She was a grown woman, one I loved, and hearing her breath catch, then release was more than enough to make me worry.

I turned into the bathroom, finding her in a tub of lukewarm water, completely beside herself with tears. My eyes went wide at the sight of the dark bruises on her breasts. I’d seen subs get bruised before, but never on the breasts.

My heart sank as I fell to my knees beside the tub, brushing her hair back from her face. “Shh. I’m here, love. I’m here.” I wanted to ask what had happened—where the bruising had come from. But I already knew.

Marnie enjoyed pain. She craved it. The bruises weren’t the problem. Something else had got to her.
She’s crashing.

The tile floor bit at my knees as fire burned between my shoulder blades. I sat Marnie up so she wasn’t sinking in the water, pulling her head to my chest. Her eyes were dark, dilated. Salty trails covered most of her cheeks. She looked utterly exhausted. Her eyes. Her face. Her entire body. A ghost compared to the woman I’d come to know and love.

She shivered, and I started to drain the water.

Marnie grabbed my wrist. “Don’t,” she pleaded, her words coming out in a sob.

I shook my head, replacing the stopper. “I won’t.” I turned the faucet back on. “Tell me if it’s too hot.”

She bowed her head, her hands in her lap. “That’s good,” she choked, wiping at tears I couldn’t see.

After filling the tub with warm water, I turned the faucet off. I tried to remember what it was Dylan had told me to do for Marnie’s aftercare. Everything I thought of doing was something I would’ve done for myself, and I knew Marnie’s needs were very different from my own.

I laid her back so her head was resting on the wall of the tub, far from the water. “Marnie, I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m going to leave the room for one minute to call Master, okay?”

She blinked, warm tears falling from the corners of her eyes. She murmured something I couldn’t understand, but I took it as a yes, getting to my feet before heading into Dylan’s room. I’d left my cell downstairs. I picked up the portable in Dylan’s room instead, returning to Marnie’s side before dialling his cell.

The phone rang.

Come on, Dylan, pick up.

It rang again. I bit at my bottom lip.

Dylan picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Dylan,” I breathed, settling down beside the tub.

“Alyssa? What’s wrong?” Something rustled in the background. He was probably sitting in his chair. “Why are you on the house phone?” He’d likely seen the house number on his caller ID.

“It’s Marnie,” I said, leaning over the edge of the tub when she wiped at more of her tears. She whimpered. “It’s okay, baby, I have him on the phone.”

“Alyssa?” Dylan’s voice cracked, reminding me he was still on the other side of the line.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. She didn’t come down for lunch. And there’s bruises.” My hands were shaking.
So much bruising.

“Where are you now?” More rustling.

“In the bathroom. She’s in the tub. I just changed the water.” Marnie squeezed my hand, gesturing at the phone. “I’ll give him to you in a minute, hon.”

“Is she hurt?”

“I…” I’d already told him about the bruising, and the way he’d seemed to dismiss it, it probably wasn’t as big a deal as I was making it out to be. “Not that I can see, no.”

“Look, I’m leaving work in the next few minutes.” His voice was juddery, probably from him getting his coat on. “Remember what I told you about her collar?”

“She likes to hold it during aftercare.”

“Good girl. Hand the phone to Marnie and remove the collar for me, would you?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. I handed the phone to Marnie, helping her sit back up once she’d taken it from me. “Talk to Master for a minute.”

Marnie held the phone and whispered into the receiver, “He-hello?”

Dylan’s voice rumbled from the other side. I listened to him as he tried to calm her down. She bowed her head when he told her to. Closed her eyes. He said something about the collar.

I draped Marnie’s hair to one side, playing with the buckle behind her neck before removing her collar completely. Not waiting for Dylan’s instruction, I handed it over to her, then helped her out of the tub moments later.

Marnie looked at me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I took the phone, wedging it between my shoulder and ear. I pulled a towel off the rank, carefully drying Marnie’s damp skin.

“Keep her warm,” Dylan said. “She doesn’t usually crash like this.”

I read the tone of his voice. She hadn’t
ever
crashed like this. This hard. Marnie bunched her collar in one hand and held on to the sink with the other, keeping herself upright as I rubbed the towel up and down her legs. When I got to her breasts, I gently patted them dry, wincing when Marnie moaned, either from pain or because she enjoyed it—I couldn’t be sure.