HUNT (A Shifters Short Story)

The third man glanced at Steve, brows raised, silently asking for permission. He hadn’t said a word so far, but his clenched fists spoke volumes.

Steve nodded and tossed an openhanded gesture toward Dani. “She’s all yours, Billy. I’m holdin’ out for the little redhead.”

Me of course.

Wouldn’t he be surprised to see me sporting black fur and claws instead of my usual mass of curls? One hundred and four pounds was only a scrap of a woman, but added up to one hell of cat. Not that he’d ever know it was me.

Billy shoved Dani down, then kicked her in the ribs before she could roll away. My sharp, feline ears heard bones crack, and I cringed. Dani’s shout became a scream of pain, then he dropped on top of her, his huge, bloody hunting knife pressed into her throat. “One more sound, and I’ll cut your fucking head off.”

Silent tears rolled down Dani’s face, and each breath was a pained gasp. Her eyes closed and her head rolled to one side as he fumbled at the waistband of her jeans, and suddenly I couldn’t move.

Bars. Tears. Pain. Blood. Terror.

No, that was all over. All but the fear. It had been more than four years, yet the terror was suddenly back like a razor-tipped Boom-a-rang. My heart beat too hard. The whole world began to go gray beneath memories of my own helplessness and humiliation.

No! This can’t be happening… Not again. Not in the human world. Not while I cower in the bushes.

Run! the voice inside my head shouted, as each breath slipped from my throat faster than the last. They’ll do the same thing to you if they find you. You can’t survive it again.

But that was a lie told by the scared little girl still huddling in a dark corner of my mind. I’d grown up. I’d moved on. I’d learned to fight. True, my skills were unproven, but they were real, and they were a game changer. Beyond all of that, I was in cat form. They’d never recognize the Abby they were looking for in my current configuration of flesh and bone—and fur.

I could survive this. I could prevent this. I could end those men.

“No!” Robyn screamed, trying to shove Tim off with her bound hands. “Don’t, please!”

That was all I could take.

I leapt out of the bushes, fury pulsing through my veins hotter than blood. A growl rumbled from my throat and rolled across the clearing. I slammed into Tim’s side, knocking him off Robyn and onto the ground. My front paws pinned him to the dirt.

Around me, everyone froze. For one long second, no one even breathed, and several hearts actually skipped beats. Then Robyn took a single, shaky breath and began edging away from us slowly, pushing herself with her feet because her hands were still tied. She was clearly as scared of me as she was of him, and terror had now driven comprehension from her eyes. For the moment at least, Robyn had checked out.

Beneath my front paws, Tim was sweating in spite of the cold, and his scent was part fear, part adrenaline. But not enough fear. I leaned closer, and the aggressive huff of breath from my nose blew his dark hair back. I sank my claws through his thick camo jacket and into flesh. He flinched and when his mouth dropped open in surprise, I saw blood staining his teeth.

I sniffed while he shook in terror beneath me. The blood was Robyn’s. The bastard had bitten her.

The entire world bled to red. I lunged, and the next few seconds were a series of unfocused, disconnected sensations. My teeth sank through something firm and warm. Tim jerked beneath me. I tossed my head, and flesh tore with a satisfying ripping sensation. Warm, fragrant blood sprayed my face, my shoulders. The form beneath me jerked one last time, then lay still.

Someone screamed.

I backed away from the body, cleaning my muzzle out of long-term hunting habit, and looked up to find Robyn huddled against the side of the nearest tent, shrieking uncontrollably. Her jacket lay on the ground to her left and she clutched the remains of her torn shirt to her chest, but the bloody bite mark on her right shoulder was exposed.

Without thinking, I stepped toward her, confused by my simultaneous human need to comfort her and my feline inclination to first clean the fresh blood from my fur.

Robyn’s screams rose into hoarse hysterics as I approached, so I stopped, physically shaking myself to clear my head. To fend off encroaching bloodlust and cling to my ill-fitting human logic. She was bitten, but otherwise unharmed. She’d be fine, physically.

I turned away from Robyn, forcing myself to ignore that small part of me that wanted to chase her, simply because she wanted to run. My roommate wasn’t prey. But the men who’d hurt her were.