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her mind, but made no sense. He talked as if
Bailey were the victim of torture and possibly even rape, and yet, she bore no
signs of either.
    Shaking her head wildly in
denial, she slid her other foot to join the first, landing half on the step. Not
losing her fixed stare at the approaching brute, she made her way down the
stairs backward. He’s just trying to
freak me out. He probably thrived on his victim’s fear. And he’s succeeding. I am so scared right
now. But she daren’t let herself falter, not with the deadly promise in his
flat eyes.
    A creak from below caught her
attention, and she darted a look down.
    Oh no. Another man,
this one familiar because she remembered him from the bar, had his foot on the
first step. He leered up at her.
    A shadow fell over her as the first
thug hit the top of the stairs. “So who’s going to be first, me or Leroy here?
Or maybe you’d like us both at the same time?”
    A low wail built up in her
chest, but couldn’t escape, not through a throat clenched tight in fear. Caught
between the two of them, she shook. She couldn’t let them touch her. Couldn’t
let them do what she saw in their eyes and menacing smiles.
    I’d rather die.
    When the guy below her got
close enough, she gathered herself and launched her body at him. She caught him
off guard and hit him, hard enough she threw him off balance. Arms windmilling,
he teetered, then fell.
    Unfortunately, given her
momentum, she plummeted with him.
    Bailey felt every solid step
she hit, bruises blossoming in the jolting wake, followed by pain. She lucked
out on a soft landing, though, as she ended up on top of a groaning Leroy, who
hadn’t fared as well, it seemed.
    Not wasting time, she scrambled
to her feet, the sound of feet pounding down the stairs too close for comfort. Lucky
for her, the front door opened on the first pull, and she dashed out into
darkness.
    A howl erupted behind her, an
inhuman sound that made her mind stray to a dark corner better left untouched.
    Not thinking, not bothering to
pause and take her bearings, she leapt off the porch and ran.
    She sprinted, arms pumping, chest
heaving, her breathing coming in whimpering pants while her blood surged
through her body. Floating like the wind, her bare feet seemed to barely touch
the ground and didn’t register the debris in her path. She tore through the
trees and bramble with no clear destination in mind other than escape. She ran
as if her life depended on it because she knew that if she didn’t, she would
die, felt that with a certainty in the marrow of her bones and a chilling fear
that made her gulp air in harsh sobs.
    Behind her, the crackling of fallen
leaves and steady thumps signaled pursuit, but it was the baying, the exultant
voices of the predators chasing her, raised in a chorus, that made her skin
pimple. Not the barking of dogs, although they would have proven dangerous on
their own. The eerie howling reminded her of . . .
    Wolves? Seriously? A
hysterical giggle got caught in her throat at the thought she might have escaped
death at human hands only to possibly find it in the jaws of an animal. But
only if they caught her.
    It surprised her that she’d
found the energy to flee. After all, she’d been drugged and fallen down a
flight of stairs. She would have expected to feel weak. Instead, she discovered
strength, a stamina unlike any she’d ever known. Stranger, she didn’t feel any
pain from her surely bruised body. Then again, she’d heard adrenaline could
make a person do just about anything. Throw in a need for survival, and she’d
probably leap buildings too if they ended up in her path.
    Movement out of the corner of
her eye caught her attention. She turned her head sideways and stumbled as the yellow
glowing eyes, tinged in red, of a predator met hers. As if her attention were a
signal, it veered and leapt at her.
    A scream escaped her as the
heavy body hit her in the side, taking her to the ground. The impact made her
grunt,