Stray (22 page)

Dylan wasn’t here to give me the order, so I looked back on the training we’d done down in his dungeon. I remembered his lighter form, his smile and the way he’d held himself in front of me. I held on to my focus, thought about how much I wanted to be a wolf. How badly I needed to be a wolf in order for this to work.

Staggering in to a wall, I fought off the dizzy spell just as I was about to shift. My bones changed shape, morphed, then relaxed. My skin, muscles and fur did the same. Shaking my mane, I could feel the collar around my neck.
Not a shock collar.
I was in a kennel. I was going to find Anthony’s sub. But he wasn’t my Master. Not anymore.

I turned the corner, then paused before stepping into a circular room. One by one, the other wolves gathered, every single one of them wearing different-coloured flags. There were red wolves, timbers, grey wolves and even a black one. She perked her ears at me, and I lowered my head.

I suddenly wondered how many of the other wolves in the room knew Anthony. Was I the only one he’d abused up until now? Were there others like me trying to feel him out? I licked my muzzle, keeping from the main pack in the room.

My heart stopped when I saw the one wolf I’d been hoping to find here.
Red and orange bandanas.
He had a terrible limp, whimpering each time he stepped on his left hip. I winced. It amazed me the reception clerk wasn’t more attentive to existing injuries, especially when it came to the ones I’d had to endure.
Rules don’t change unless enough people complain.
And clothes could cover up just about anything.

It was the same way the rest of the world worked. Same thing with child, animal and spousal abuse—if no one saw it happen, it could be lied about or hidden from plain sight. Even so, pitting an injured wolf against a healthy one wasn’t exactly the best thing a Master could do. That alone should’ve been enough proof of Anthony’s abuse, but unless someone called him out on it, I knew nothing would change.

Fighting back a growl, I padded over to the other wolf, sitting back on my haunches a few feet away from him. His head was still bowed. His ears pinned. Tail between his legs.
Anthony’s broken him.
There was no spirit left. No fight. Just the skin of a wolf. A complete shadow of what he used to be. I’d experienced his pain first-hand, but I never realised how bad it had looked from the outside.

Inside his head, the sub was probably fighting between love, reason, loyalty and survival. None of which would make sense to a stronger wolf. Not when the abuse was this bad.

I ached to talk to him. To tell him I knew the truth. That I was here to help. All I managed was a sympathetic whimper, keeping my head as low as his own.
I’m not a threat,
I wanted to say.
I’m here to help.

When he lay down, my stomach lurched. The scars on his hip were old—one layered right on top of another. His fur had been brushed in such a way that Anthony had successfully been able to hide them from the crowd, which explained the sub’s hesitation when it came to doing anything aside from standing still.

There were also scars on his sides. His ribs were visible through a paper-thin layer of skin. I’d seen enough. There was no way in hell this sub could fight. Not for entertainment and certainly not for his own life.

Keeping my head bowed, I made my way back down the hallway, to the same door I’d entered with Patrick’s help. I paused. I listened to the noise outside. There were four voices. Marnie was sobbing, whimpering each time Dylan cooed to her. Eric was busy with the clerk, just as Patrick had promised.

Not wanting to shift out of my wolf skin and not having a voice to speak up, I scratched at the bottom of the door. Marnie kept up her sobbing as Dylan opened it. I was so happy to see them, I almost forgot why I’d come back.

“Is he there?” Dylan asked in a hurried voice.

I nodded, tucking my tail between my legs.

“That bad?”

I nodded again.

“What do you want to do?”

I’d already turned back for the preparation chamber and knew Marnie’s newest sob wasn’t an act. The door closed behind me, and I headed back. They’d be calling us into the ring soon, and I wanted to make sure I went out with Anthony’s other wolf.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Since Anthony’s wolf had essentially thrown the fight last week, he and I were of the same rank. The only difference was that I was new blood. The other wolves wouldn’t be paired against me or Anthony’s sub unless one of us won the fight. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

For one thing, I hadn’t come here with the intention of fighting. Secondly, Anthony’s wolf could barely walk, let alone fight a healthy opponent. Even if I did have my own set of scars.
It will all be over soon,
I thought, glancing at the other wolf.

He shivered as a set of doors opened. We were the first ones to go out, allowing the audience to warm up for the stronger wolves later on. It didn’t matter if anyone cheered for us. We were the bottom of the barrel. I didn’t care. That wasn’t why I was here.

I waited for the other sub to go through his door before I entered mine. The wall behind me closed, and all that remained was a hallway stretching out before me. And like the doors from the reception area, these halls snaked their way through the kennel, to either side of the ring. Mine came out on what would’ve been my right if I’d been in the stands.

The red dirt within the centre ring collapsed under my paws. It was softer than I’d remembered. Deeper. Not that it would do any good. Wolves rarely fell from the catwalks, and when they did, it was usually on purpose—throwing the match.

Pausing at the stairs, I allowed my vision to drift over the faces closest to the ring. Patrick was in clear sight, and he smiled when our eyes met. I perked my ears, then returned to what was ahead of me.

He’s here.
Somewhere in the audience, Anthony was watching. Whether he would recognise me or not, I couldn’t say. All that mattered was that he was there. I was about to face his sub…his colours on the wolf’s neck.

I took the first step and closed my eyes.

Anthony’s abuse came flooding back. The weight of his collar hanging from my neck.

I climbed the second step.

My heart raced. My breath caught.

Another step.

The scars under my fur began to burn.

“Focus,” Patrick called from within the crowd.

I opened my eyes and pinned my ears back. Clenched my jaw. Growled under my breath.

Another step.
Almost there. Just one more.

Paws shaking, I stepped off the stairs onto my end of the catwalk. Across from me was the other sub. He hadn’t moved. He looked just as terrible as before. I’d been so focused on climbing my stairs, I hadn’t even bothered to see if he could do the same.
He limped up the steps.
He’d probably taken the stairs the same way he’d done last time. One at a time. One aching step at a time.

A faint whistle blew, and neither one of us budged. Instinct and years of horrible training under Anthony begged me to step forward, to jump from one catwalk to the other. To throw the other sub off balance. To challenge him. Bite him. Hurt him.

I stayed right where I was. My attention floated to my collar, to the green flags around my neck.
Dylan’s sub.
Not Anthony’s.
I slowed my breathing.
Inhale.
Dirt, sweat, fur and smoke—I took it all in.
Exhale.
I emptied my mind. Forgot Anthony. My scars. The audience in the stands. Everything fell away.

I raised my vision, eyeing the battered sub at the end of the catwalk. His ears were pinned. Head bowed. Tail between his legs. Body shaking. He wasn’t just cowering. He was waiting for the end. An end I wasn’t willing to give.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t give him a better one.

I took a step forward. Perked my ears. Another step. Held my head just a little higher. My pace increased, and still, the other sub didn’t move. The audience around us cheered, expecting a quick fight.
Don’t remove any of his flags.
If I did, it would’ve made me look more aggressive than I actually was.

Nearly paw to paw with him now, I stopped. I rumbled deep in my chest, loud enough for him to hear. He looked at me from under his eye ridges. Lowered his eyes again. I rumbled again. Same reaction. Only this time, when I had his attention, I gazed up towards the concaved ceiling.

The audience quieted. Some of the surrounding Doms talked amongst themselves. As far as wolf behaviour was concerned, what I was doing wasn’t really in the book. But human curiosity was, and I knew that if I stared long enough,
hard enough,
so would everyone else.

Slowly, others in the audience peered up from the centre ring. Some of them were probably wondering why I’d stopped. Others were more than likely trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at. Slowly, the other sub lifted his head, leaving the battery on his collar open for a quick attack.

I lunged forward, catching the other sub off guard. He tumbled to his side and cried out in pain. With my jaws on the battery, I bit down. Something under my tongue sparked. The sub and I both jumped. Dazed, I shook my mane. I rumbled to him, asking him to do the same thing we’d done before.

He sunk low to his stomach and took a few steps back. He stopped when he reached the end of the catwalk. It was something I’d wanted to avoid. It didn’t matter how much pain he was in—a cornered wolf still had enough strength to bite.

I backed away and lowered myself onto my forepaws. He canted his head to one side, then whimpered when another jolt from the battery ran through him.

A familiar voice called from around the ring, putting my nerves on edge. “Get up, you worthless piece of shit!”

I narrowed my eyes, pinning my ears back when I saw Anthony barking orders at the other wolf. His eyes locked on to mine, and his expression faltered the slightest bit.
That’s right, asshole. Remember me?
He held up the remote to the collar so I could see, holding down the button. He didn’t release it.

I looked back at the other sub. He was still down, his head turning from one side to the other in pain.

“What the hell?” Patrick cried out, grabbing at the collar of a kennel monitor. “Can’t you see what the he’s doing? For fuck’s sake, call him out!”

Chaos took over the stands. I pushed it from my mind. Anthony hadn’t let go of the button.
This is going to hurt.
And by the look of it, the voltage was as high as it could go.

Clenching my jaw, I rushed over to the other sub, placing my muzzle under his chin just enough to find the battery. A new jolt of electricity jumped from his body to mine, causing me to bark in surprise. Dylan was calling to me, saying something I couldn’t understand.

I lifted the sub’s head again, locating the battery just long enough to put my muzzle around it. The constant shock was excruciating. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. I refused to let go. I tightened my jaws. Clamped them down on the battery.

Something buzzed in my ears. Black specks crowded my vision. I reminded myself to breathe. I opened my jaw. Closed it. The casing around the battery cracked.
Come on, you can do this.

The other sub went limp, trying to remain as still as possible. This probably wasn’t the first time this had happened to him. His tolerance to pain was a lot higher than my own.
You’ve been away from it for over a year, remember?

Growling, I bit down as hard as I could, breaking the battery in the process. Acid and metal filled my mouth. I let go, collapsing onto my stomach beside the other wolf. His heartbeat was erratic, but he was still alive. Still alert. His nose nudged mine, and I licked his muzzle.

“Why did you—?”

I shook my head. There’d be more than enough time to explain things later. But for now, I had to help him down to the ground, to Doms who could check him for injuries.

Getting to my feet, I bit at the sub’s collar, pulling on it until he stood back up. Together, we walked down the stairs on his side of the catwalk, stopping once we were on solid ground. He collapsed shortly after that, his eyes full of thanks and worry. I shook my head. Anthony’s reign over him was no longer an issue.

By now, the entire audience was standing with their mouths agape. And as I padded to the centre of the ring, Patrick and Anthony were scrambling over the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” Anthony spat, coming up behind me. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

I turned and snapped at him, surprised when my voice actually worked. “You aren’t my Master. You never were.”

Patrick pulled Anthony back just as he was raising his hand to hit me. Dylan was there one heartbeat later, fur bristling all along his wolf skin.

Two of the kennel monitors joined us and cuffed Anthony right in front of the audience.

“Get him out of here,” Dylan barked. “And you wonder why shock collars should get banned.” He turned to me, nuzzling under my chin. “Are you okay?”

I bowed my head. “A little lightheaded and out of breath, but nothing too serious.”
Not to mention the horrible taste in my mouth.

He parted his muzzle in a wolfish grin. “Looks like you found your voice.”

“It would seem that way.” I craned my neck to look back at the other sub, who was getting medical attention from a few of the other Doms. “What’ll happen to him?”

“He’ll become a stray.”

“Just like I was.”

He nodded.

“It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” It was the worst punishment a sub could have, no matter how horrible their Master was. Depending on someone for that long…it changed you.

“No, it doesn’t.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “He’d need a lot of training.”

Dylan didn’t miss a beat. “You’re right.”

“And someone who understands him.”

Dylan’s smile widened. “What are you thinking?”

“Same as you.” I sat back on my haunches, feeling completely exhausted. After being a stray for close to a year, then training with Dylan and trying to get over my fear of being a wolf, it was no wonder I was tired. “You do have a spot open for a new sub-in-training, don’t you?” I licked him on the cheek. “Besides, Marnie will need someone new to take care of.”