Wolf Pact: A Wolf Pact Novel by Melissa de La Cruz

it hit the concrete to her right. She swiveled in its direction, then stopped. The knife was a ruse, a distraction. The hound was behind her now; it was trying to steer her away from the door. She could see it watching her from the shadows, its yellow eyes burning. Did it think she was that stupid? She might not have her vampire abilities anymore—but it didn’t mean she was completely useless. She was still fast. She was still coordinated. She still had the speed and skill of a trained killer.
    The beast snorted and raked its claws across the concrete. It was angry and getting ready to jump. Bliss figured it was now or never. She pushed her way toward the open door, clambering onto a table and spraying a dozen knives across the room. The wolf leapt but she was faster, and when she reached the oversized steel door, she grabbed the handle and, using its weight as a pivot, swung around so that she pulled it closed behind her. The freezer slammed shut with a thick, wet sucking sound that made her wonder if this was a good idea. How much air was in here? No time to worry about that now. She picked up a couple of knives that had fallen to the floor, and jammed one into the lock to keep it closed while slipping the other into her back pocket.
    She could hear the creature throwing its weight against the bolted door, making the archway shake. It was larger and more dangerous than she had thought. Tame the hounds? She would be lucky if she got out of there alive.
    She lookedaround. There were a dozen or so carcasses hanging from the ceiling. The air was rancid, metallic. She pushed her way through the animal corpses to the back of the room, toward the sound of ragged breathing.
    On the floor of the meat locker lay a boy, no older than she was, chained to the back wall of the freezer. Next to him were a cutting board and a band saw. A meat hook, crusted with blood and rust, swung above his head. The tiled walls were splattered a deep shade of scarlet. The boy’s skin was blue, his hair caked with filth … there were ugly red marks around his wrists and neck, where he was bound with heavy iron shackles. Dear god, what was going on here? Bliss wondered, her stomach churning … If this was what they did to their victims… she didn’t want to think about what Jane was going through and hoped that Jane was still alive …
    Bliss shivered, goose bumps appearing on her skin. Now that she wasn’t a vampire, her body did not control its temperature as well as it used to. But was it the fright or the cold that had caused the rows of tiny bumps?
    She bent down to touch the boy’s face. It was still warm, at least. She placed a tender hand on his bony shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” she told him, and wondered if she was also telling herself the same thing.
    “Yes, butyou’re not.” His eyes came alive then, and before Bliss could blink, the boy had wrapped his fist around her neck and pinned her to the floor, his knees locking against her waist and keeping her arms away from her body. His shackles, Bliss could see now, had not been locked.
    “Who are you?” she asked, spitting out the words with difficulty, recoiling from the boy’s viselike grip. Bliss turned to her assailant, surprised to find she had seen his face before. He was the boy she’d seen in the glom. The boy with the same flat yellow eyes as those of the hound she had been tracking.
    “I think the correct question is, who are you?” His voice was low and tinged with malice. “You are from the underworld, do not deny it, why else would you carry this?” he said, tugging the thin leather rope that held the Heart of Stone. “You are one of Romulus’s spies!”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you think I’m going down like Jane, you’re wrong,” she said, stretching her arm and reaching into her back pocket for her hidden blade. Her fingers shaking as she struggled to get a handle on it, she wriggled it out without him seeing, her