After two days of scouting out the comings and goings of the jail's support staff, we are ready to strike. Our victim is a young guy who is about my height—at least when I slouch—and has a similar built in a bulky sweater. He couldn't have worked as a janitor long; his face is young and he still has this fleeting look before he swipes his card at the entrance check point. He's uncomfortable in his own skin.

When we ambush him a block from the prison after his late shift, the night has turned pitch black. Cassum pulls a plastic bag over his head as I shove him into an alley, and just before he passes out from the lack of oxygen, Andrenior does some sparkly shit to him, designed to loosen his tongue.

Cassum grabs the access card for the jail and holds it up. "Go."

Even though I want to move, my legs are heavy. I stare at the sparks dying on Andrenior's hands. That boy has talents I don't care to mess with.

"Kendrick, come on."

I stare at the card. No way this is going to work. The card has a picture. "What if someone stops me to check my ID?"

"As usual, you're overthinking this. It's night. People are tired. No one will even care you are there."

I can only hope she's right. I grab the card and take off toward the jail. At the employee entrance, I briefly hesitate. Then I swipe the card. The door buzzes open; I enter a dim reception area. Shit, there's a guard behind a glass at a desk. I lower my gaze. Luckily, the hood of the sweater covers most of my face.

"Forgot something?" the guard asks.

Out of the corners of my eyes, I check if he's staring at me. Lazy bastard has yet to look up from his phone.

"Mm-hmm," I grunt.

"Make sure to sign in if you need more than a few minutes." The guard chuckles. Someone or something on his phone is making him very happy. Good for him, and even better for me.

The door next to the guard station jumps open with a click. I walk through as if I own the place. I end up in a long hallway with a small breakroom to the side. Hiding behind a door, I peel my phone from my pocket and text Cassum.

I'm in.

Do you see a stairwell?

I peek around the door and thumbs up her question.

Then get moving.

I roll my eyes. She acts as if she were in charge. I have to remind her the next chance I get that I'm still the only Alpha in the family. This rescue mission is crazy.

Hurrying along the hallway, I get to the stairwell. When I rattle the metal handle, the door doesn't budge. My gaze falls on a small device on the wall. This time I don't hesitate before swiping the card. The door unlocks; as soon as I cross the threshold, the lights turn on automatically.

Jogging up the steps, I keep my face well-hidden. My phone buzzes with a text.

Our janitor says females are on floor 9-12. Best to work your way down.

Wonderful. Not that I couldn't use the exercise after being stuck in my skins for close to a week.

With long strides, I leap up the steps. This would be so much easier in my natural form, but turning into a wolf also means I have to leave my clothes behind. Not a good idea if I have to change back. Humans aren't the most liberal creatures when it comes to nudity.

By the time I reach the twelfth floor, I'm ready to kill Andrenior and his plan. At least the hallway lies deserted; yet, another sealed door soon bars my entry. Holding my breath, I swipe the card. The door opens without a fuss; Andrenior's theory that janitors generally have broad access rights to all of the facility proves correct.

The large room I enter is well lit and looks like a recreational area with two dozen doors outlining its perimeters. These must be cells where they keep the kids.

On 12th floor, I text.

I peek through a small window cut at eye level of the closest door. It's dark. Fuck. What should I do now? My instincts demand to abort this ludicrous mission, but knowing my sister, the next plan she cooks up will even be worse.

First looking to my left and then to my right, I knock against the glass. Once, twice. I wait a full minute before I knock again, this time a little harder. The face of a sleepy black female appears in the window. Definitely not Rikka. I signal her to lie back down. After frowning at me for the longest, the young female disappears. Hell, at this rate, it will take me all night. This isn't going to work.

With a huff, I lean against the wall and replay the few titbits I know about humans. They are frail for the most part and easy to hurt or kill, hence, they are big on protecting themselves from all kind of harm. That's why most of them carry weapons in this type of setting. And even my kind isn't immune to their bullets.

When a text chimes, I look down at my pocket. What does Cassum want now?

How is it going?

Too slow.

Andrenior had an idea. If you pull the fire alarm, they will evacuate the building. We might be able to grab Rikka that way.

I roll my eyes. This is getting mega complicated.

How do I pull the fire alarm?

There must be a box with a button on the wall. If you break the glass, the alarm will go off.

I scan the walls. Lo and behold, there's something like Cassum described. With my knuckle, I push against the glass. It doesn't yield. This will require brutal force.

Slamming my elbow into the glass, I duck at the sound of a siren. Crap. The howling isn't just tearing into my eardrums, but my head threatens to split apart. I cup my hands over my ears, cringing in pain.

All the doors to the cells open at once. Females in prison uniforms stumble out, hair sticking in all directions, their stares disoriented. At the same time, shouting from the stairwell warns that guards are on their way up. I scan the faces for Rikka. Bingo. One female looks just like the picture Andrenior showed me. Her long hair is the color of honey and the dark eyes remind me of rosewood. Pretty, by all accounts.

I shove her back into her cell. "Quiet."

She tears from my grip. "Who are you?"

"Andrenior sent me."

"You stink like a wolf."

She sure got a mouth like Andrenior. "That's because I am a wolf."

"And why exactly are you helping me?"

"Long story." I glance around the door. Five guards are leading the other females out into the stairwell in an orderly fashion. A sixth one is going from door to door, searching the cells with a flashlight. In less than a minute, we're busted.

"Hide over there," Rikka hisses, her chin jutting at the corner of the room covered by the open door.

"What are you gonna do?"

She smirks. "Watch and learn."

On second thought, I like her. Ducking into the corner, I hold my breath as the beam of the flashlight runs along the wall. Rikka has dropped back onto the bed and clutches her stomach.

She groans. "I'm really sick and can't get up."

"Don't give me bullshit, Watson. We have to evacuate the building." The guard bends over Rikka.

Next thing I know, he jerks on the ground with Rikka's arm clutched around his neck. Rattles drift from his throat. I'm about to tell her to stop when the guard's frame stills.

"Fuck, you killed him."

Her smile is nonchalant. "Don't worry, he'll sleep it off."

"Still. . ."

"A werewolf with a soft heart for humans. That's cute."

I growl in warning, snapping my fangs. This little witch isn't going to disrespect me unless she wants her throat torn out.

"Oh, feck off. I'm not scared of you." She drops her gaze.

Caught you in a lie, chickadee.

"We should go before the guards come back."

"Great idea."

She slips out of her prison top. Underneath is a plane t-shirt. At least that's less conspicuous once we make it outside. Or should I say "if"?

Sprinklers have turned on in the recreational area and the stairwell. The fine mist makes it harder to run down the steps. Making my descent, I hold on to the handrail, almost slipping a few times when I turn too quickly on the landing. At least our footsteps are drowned out by hundreds of echoes from the lower floors. Shouts demand that everyone moves faster. It's one human command I don't mind following.

"Wait up." Rikka's chest is rising and falling as she gasps for air. She bends over, holding her side.

It's my turn to smirk. "Looking a little out of shape there."

She turns her head to stare up at me. Her glare is lethal. "How did you get into the building?"

I hold up the card we took off the janitor.

She smiles. "Nice. Was that Andrenior's idea?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Wolves aren't that clever."

"You mean reckless."

"Yeah, whatever. Since we have the card, let's leave through the basement."

"And how do you know that the basement has an exit?"

"They force you to work here. I was assigned to do laundry. Trust me, there's a door, but you need credentials to get out. Hopefully, that card will do the trick."

I'd prefer to walk through a door I already know. "Sounds risky. We might get caught."

"The other exits will be swarming with cops." She laughs. "Besides, if they arrest your ass, they might cut me a deal and let me go if I agree to testify against you."

I shoot her a dark look, but she's unfazed. No loyalty whatsoever. Let's just hope she won't bail on me as soon as she's free again. If so, Andrenior will pay dearly for this stunt.

The basement consists of a long, white-tiled hallway. It smells of laundry detergent and bleach. Rikka steers toward a door at the end.

She holds out her hand. "Card."

With gritted teeth, I surrender the janitor's ID. As soon as she swipes it, the door unlocks, but when I pull the handle, an alarm howls.

"Fuck."

Glancing over her shoulder, she grins. "You better run, wolf."

I swear I'm getting too old for this type of shenanigans. As I leap forward, my joints crack. Bones break through my skin together with razor sharp claws and teeth. Hell, clothes are overrated. Chasing behind Rikka through the night, I catch up to her. When she tries to divert course, my powerful jaw closes around her lower arm. She won't get away this easily.

"Let go of me," she hisses, but when my teeth nick her skin, she stops yanking. Her blood tastes warm and sweet—different from that of a wolf.

Getting to the alley, I shift back. She scans over me with meticulous slowness, stopping on certain body parts just long enough to draw a tingle to the pit of my stomach. I'm not used to females checking me out like this.

Cassum starts to undress the janitor still lying motionless on the ground. "Here, put this on."

When she offers me his boxers first, I decline. Underwear worn by someone else isn't really my thing. Neither the zipper nor the button of the jeans close properly and I hide the exposed skin as best as I can with the sweatshirt that threatens to burst at the seams. Until the shops open tomorrow, this will have to do.

Andrenior grins at Rikka. "You good?"

If her glare could kill, he'd be dead. "Explain to me why it took you close to a month to break me out. And not only that. Why in the Sun God's name did you involve stinking hounds?"

I growl at her in warning.

"Once they locked you up in that prison, it was impossible to get you out on my own."

"Yeah, whatever. Can we go now?"

She tries to slip past me, but I block her path. "Not so fast. You owe us for tonight."

She snorts. "I didn't ask for your help, so I don't owe you anything."

I glance at Andrenior. This wasn't the agreement.

He smiles sheepishly. "I sort of promised them you'd help me heal one of their she-wolves."

Rikka folds her arms. "And why would you possibly do that?"

"C'mon, it's not a big deal."

"Did Marush sanction this?"

Andrenior can't hold her gaze.

"I thought so." She snorts again. "Boy, he'll kick your ass once he finds out you've been chummy with werewolves."

"Please, don't make me go back on my word."

She rolls her eyes and huffs. "Fine. Where is the she-wolf?"

"Up in their territory. They are from Canada."

Rikka quirks a brow. "Canada? That's Rayne's hunting ground."

Now might be a good time to enlighten her to who I am. I extend my hand. "Kendrick Raynes. It's nice to meet you."

I finally find a glimmer of respect in her eyes—even if only a small one—although she ignores my hand. "I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

~~~~

© Sally Mason 2018

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