The first thing Roan became aware of was the pounding in his head, followed immediately by the realization that he wasn’t in the pack house. Keeping his eyes closed, he called on his wolf senses. He didn’t dare shift, at least until he knew where he was, but his hearing and sense of smell might give him some clues as to what had happened to him.
The air was dank and cold; Roan could smell blood, but it wasn’t fresh because of the sour, rancid, pungent odor; overlaid with the strong stench of cleaning products. Someone tried to clean up a mess, but hadn’t done a very good job. He strained his ears but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. Taking a risk, he opened his eyes and raised his head slightly, then really wished he’d hadn’t.
The room he was in was fashioned out of concrete blocks, only one tiny window set too high up in the wall to reach. Roan was laying the floor, hogtied - his legs and arms behind him and as he tried to wriggle, to see if there was any give in his bindings, he became aware of a tightening around his neck. Clearly whoever tied him up wasn’t taking any chances on him getting free.
But it wasn’t the bindings that rattled Roan, or even the fact that the cold from the concrete floor was seeping through his thin clothes. It was the dead woman on the other side of the dingy room – lying in state on a bright blue tarpaulin, neatly arranged as if waiting casketing. In the dim light offered by the small window, Roan could see her hair was neatly combed; her clothes looked clean and pressed. Her stockings didn’t have a wrinkle in them, and even her shoes looked as if they’d been freshly polished. If it wasn’t for the dark bruises around her neck, Roan might have thought she was asleep. But the woman, whoever she was, wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.
A clang of a door behind him had Roan closing his eyes and dropping his head again. He recognized the scent that hit him within seconds. A booted foot connected with his ribs and his eyes flew open as he felt one of his bones crack. He tried to keep his growl to himself; lord knows he couldn’t shift or he’d tear his shoulders from their ligaments.
“No point in pretending you’re still sleeping. I know exactly how long that drug lasts in your system and I’ve had my eye on you for the last half hour.” Martin’s eyes flicked upwards, and when Roan looked he could see a red light blinking in a small dome set into the ceiling.
“State of the art surveillance system,” Martin said proudly. “I could tell the moment your breathing changed.”
“My friends,” Roan managed to say. His mouth felt as if it was full of cotton wool, and his throat was so dry it hurt.
“I didn’t have any interest in them,” Martin said and Roan’s heart dropped into his stomach. He knew the man was a killer. If what he’d seen all those nights before hadn’t convinced him, the fresh corpse he was sharing a room with was a big enough clue, even for him.
“What? Why?” Roan tried to swallow, to get more saliva in his mouth, but his body hadn’t got the memo.
“Why did I take you?” Martin strolled over to the woman lying on the tarp, although Roan noticed he didn’t get too close to her. “Well, you’ve become a pain in the butt for my brother and me. We had a mission, and somehow you managed to see one of us.”
I saw you, you asshole. I’d never forget your stink as long as I live, Roan thought but he kept his mouth shut.
“Now I don’t know where, and I don’t know how. Aaron will be out in a few hours and he can tell me exactly what was in your statement. He was all for killing you outright,” Martin continued. “But I figured you could be a lot more useful alive, at least for now. You’ll be able to give your cop friends something else to think about apart from me and my brother.” His teeth flashed and Roan noted that he had a black eyetooth. Martin came closer, until he was looming over Roan like a giant shark. Roan couldn’t move, there was nothing he could do, and he really didn’t like the predatory glint the man had in his eye.
“Almost a shame you’re not blond, like your little friend back at the house,” Martin said as his hand hovered over Roan’s head. “You’re pretty enough to be a girl, and lord knows you’ve tried to fuck us over just like the bitches on our list.” Roan felt a sharp sting on the top of his head and he watched in confusion as Martin put four strands of his hair into a small plastic bag.
“I’m going to have to move you for this next bit, but don’t worry, I won’t let you suffocate yourself, not yet at least.” Martin grabbed the ropes Roan was bound with and dragged him over to the body. “A few skin samples, I think,” Martin muttered to himself. “Are you in the database?” Roan didn’t answer. He didn’t have a clue what Martin was talking about. Martin shrugged.
“No worries. You soon will be.” Martin twisted Roan around and as the rope around his neck tightened, Roan fought for breath. He felt sharp scratches on his arm, but he was more worried about the black spots in front of his eyes. His windpipe was being crushed and Roan tried to move, but no matter what he did he couldn’t….
“Oops.” The laugh Martin gave was not reassuring. But thankfully the pressure on Roan’s neck loosened and he gasped, taking in as much air as he could. “Now don’t go dripping blood on the floor. It took me ages to clean up after the last kill.” Martin tugged on the ropes again, the other way this time Roan noted thankfully, and dragged him back to his original corner.
“What.” Roan’s throat hurt more than ever. He tried again. “What you going to do with me?”
Martin stood and smiled that repulsive smile of his. “Why let you go of course,” He said. “It’ll take a few days, I’m afraid. I’ve got to drop Patty off so your cop friends can find her. I’ll give it a couple of days to make sure they’ve done an autopsy and found the evidence you’ve so kindly left for them. Then I’ll do my duty as a law-abiding citizen and turn you in. It shouldn’t be hard to convince the cops that you’re connected to these murders. In fact, your statement earlier today has helped our cause. After all, why else would you be out in a remote clearing, in the middle of the night, unless you’re hiding something yourself.”
“They won’t believe it’s me,” Roan said in a rush, his voice sounding strained, even to him.
“The cops are so fucking eager for a bust, they don’t care who they label for these killings.” Martin sounded scornful and Roan guessed the man didn’t have a lot of respect for law enforcement. “With your DNA all over this last body, Aaron and I have got nothing else to worry about. And by the time you can get anyone to believe you, if you can, we’ll be long gone.” Martin walked over to the body and rolled it in the tarpaulin before picking it up as though that lovely looking woman was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.
“Now, you be good. I won’t be too long, and if you don’t cause me any trouble, I might even bring you back some food.” Martin lumbered out of the room with his deadly package, and Roan heard the slam of the door, then the turn of a key. He was locked in.
Roan shivered. His body ached and from the way he was tied he knew if he didn’t hold his position then he’d strangle himself. He tried to relax his shoulders and tilted his pelvis forward, pushing his legs back further. The ropes around his wrists were tight and his fingers were numb, but he could make out the bulge of a knot around his ankle. Working feverishly, Roan closed his eyes and tried to loosen the knot he’d found. His brain swamped him with images of Peter and Kalel and he was desperate to know what happened to them. But more importantly, he wished Mace was near. Roan promised himself when he got free, he was going to find his mate, and then find a witch who could make him two inches tall just by eating a bun or a biscuit – shit, he’d settle for a slice of bread if it worked. Then he could spend the day in his mate’s pocket, going with the man whenever he had to work.
I think I need water. I have a feeling that’s dehydration talking.
/~/~/~/~/
The sun was setting and room was almost fully dark when Roan finally freed his wrists and ankles. As he tore the remaining piece of rope from his neck he felt dampness on his fingers, his nose letting him know he was bleeding. The rope had been thick and coarse and given he’d had no movements in his arms at all, his fingers had borne the brunt of the work. As soon as the rope around his neck fell away Roan collapsed backwards onto the floor. His shoulders and arms screamed in agony and his hips and knees protested as he worked to straighten his legs. He knew he should shift, but the blinking red light in the ceiling stopped him. While he knew Martin had left, and probably wasn’t coming back for some time, Roan didn’t know enough about security systems or surveillance to understand if he was being recorded or not, and he couldn’t afford to take the risk.
His hopes Martin would stay away were short-lived as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a lock being released. He rolled over and struggled to his feet, his legs protesting, but at least holding him upright. Martin’s mouth opened in shock, and then his eyes narrowed as he saw the discarded rope on the floor.
“Now why the hell did you have to go and do that, boy? You really are a son of a bitch. You’re giving me no choice but to kill you.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and Roan caught the glimpse of a gun barrel; without stopping to think, he moved forward. He didn’t dare shift fully, and every muscle in his body ached. But his fingers turned into claws on command; his wolf gave him strength as he scrabbled around, desperate to reach Martin’s neck. The word boy dredged up so many negative memories. His parents referred to him by that word as he was growing up; letting him know he was nothing more than a chattel to them. It was the word his masters used each and every time they’d beat him, sometimes for no other reason than they liked to watch him scream in pain. It was the word Seth’s sister used as she threw him out of the one home he’d been remotely happy in – the scorn and disgust in her tone still ringing in Roan’s head. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was mated. He belonged in a pack that cared about him. This man; this mean, hateful killer was the only thing standing between him and having Mace’s arms around him. Roan would not let this guy kill him, tie him up, or anything else.
Roan had no idea how long he’d been fighting, but his wolf let him know when Martin was dead. He pushed away from the body, his nose assaulted with the stench of blood, not all of it Martin’s. His abductor fought hard, but he had no chance of winning against a wolf, even one as small as Roan. As he stared at the scene in shock, his human mind finally caught up with what he’d done and he whimpered.
Martin was covered in blood, his mouth open, that black tooth mocking him. Roan looked down at his clothes, knowing he didn’t look any better. Every muscle in his body ached, his fingers were covered in blood and his mind was filled with the horror of what he’d done. Roan sank to the floor, and curled his arms around his knees; his breath still harsh and his heart still racing. He wanted to cry and felt his eyes filling, but he knew what he had to do. He needed to get to a phone. He had to tell Mace what he’d done.