Or was it…?
My dewclaw! Cats have an extra claw—like a thumbnail—high up on the inside of their paws, near where the wrist would be in human form. Dewclaws aren’t good for much. They don’t even hit the ground when a cat walks. But most werecats can flex their dewclaws, and I was no exception. If I could move it enough to puncture all the layers of duct tape, I’d have that weak spot in my bindings I’d wished for earlier.
“Did she let him out?” Kevin repeated, as I flexed my dewclaw desperately, trying not to squirm as I worked.
I glanced at Marc, silently hoping that they’d hit me again, instead of him. Then I met Yarnell’s gaze boldly. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Know.” But instead of hauling me up, he stomped across the room toward Marc and pulled his right foot back, preparing to slam his heavy boot into Marc’s ribs.
My pulse raced, and I swallowed thickly. “Wait! I’m serious. Even if she had let him out, she wouldn’t have told me about it. She wouldn’t have told anyone, so I can’t imagine where you’re getting your information.”
“Fine,” Kevin said, and Yarnell let his foot drop, though it was clear neither of them planned to reveal their sources. “Let’s talk about something you do know about. When will your dad move against Malone?”
My heart pounded, and I began to sweat in spite of the cool draft near the floor. I flexed my paw furiously, wiggling the dewclaw as much as I could. And finally that tiny, vestigial claw popped silently through the layers of tape binding my wrists.
I could have squealed with relief, but it wasn’t over yet. I couldn’t move the dewclaw enough to actually cut the tape, so I’d still have to rip it open the hard way. But I couldn’t do that with Kevin watching me.
Exhaling dread and frustration, I glanced at Marc, silently apologizing for what I was about to do. I needed a distraction, and the only thing that would take all eyes off me was putting them all on him.
Marc blinked at me and nodded, telling me to go ahead with whatever I had to do. My guilt level sky-rocketed at his selfless submission, but I forced the words out anyway, staring at Kevin with challenge written in every line of my face. “Fuck you.”
Kevin’s face flamed with anger, and instead of looking to Yarnell, he turned toward Marc himself, drawing his own foot back. As all eyes focused on Marc, I pulled my arms apart with all the strength left in my body. My shoulders ached. Tape tugged at my recently grown fur. And my pulse spiked with the fear that even though I’d come so close, I would still be too late. Or too weak.
Kevin’s foot slammed into Marc’s ribs, and his whole body jerked in pain. Then, just when I though it wasn’t going to happen, the tape tore open at my back with a loud ripping sound.
All heads turned my way. Kevin’s foot was cocked and ready to fly again. I gave my arms one last, violent tug, and the tape pulled free from one arm, taking large patches of fur with it. I grabbed the edge of the couch for balance and was on my feet in an instant, slicing through the tape binding my ankles as I stood.
“What the hell!” Yarnell lunged for me, and I leapt to the left, ripping the remaining tape from my ankles with my human right hand. He tackled me a second later, driving us both to the ground. Yarnell tried to force my arms to the carpet, still staring in shock and disgust at my newly furry appendage.
I brought my knee up hard into his crotch, and he groaned miserably. His grip loosened in the face of intense pain, and I tugged my Shifted hand loose. Still wheezing in agony, Yarnell wrapped one hand around my throat and squeezed. Gagging, I unsheathed my claws and swiped them across his arm, shredding the flesh in one pass.
Blood sprayed my face, and I shoved Yarnell, then rolled out from under him. He howled, and clapped his good hand over the injury, trying to slow the blood loss.
I jumped to my feet just in time to see Kevin run at me. I dodged him to the left and dropped to the floor beside Marc. Dan stared at us in shock from the kitchen doorway, making no move to join either side of the fight. I ripped the tape from Marc’s arms, then rose into an immediate roundhouse as Kevin dove at me.
My boot hit his stomach, and he doubled over the blow, barely grunting because of the air he’d lost. But he grabbed my human wrist as I tried to run, and jerked me backward so brutally I heard a bone crack, and pain radiated from my fingers all the way into my elbow. His fist hit my back, and an all-new agony slammed into my kidney, so acute I couldn’t move. I clamped my jaws shut to keep from screaming and waking the neighbors as I breathed through the pain.
On the floor, Marc sat up and ripped the tape from his ankles. He leapt awkwardly to his feet, but Yarnell rammed him an instant later, dripping a trail of blood on his own carpet all the way across the room.
Marc went down on his back, with Yarnell on top of him. They alternated blows, grunting and wheezing as the fists flew.
Kevin tightened his grip on my broken arm, and I choked on a scream as he pulled his fist back for another blow. I twisted away from him and slashed my paw in a vicious arc. Blood instantly soaked his shredded shirt. He started to shriek, but I followed up with a breath-stealing blow to the gut, acutely aware that too much noise would lead to neighbor—and police—involvement. He knocked my feet out from under me and his weight crushed me to the floor.
Across the room, Marc rolled over Yarnell, still throwing punches. A moment later, Yarnell was on top again. Then he suddenly lunged sideways, and took a punch to the ribs from Marc as he shoved one hand under an armchair. When his arm emerged, he held Dan’s framing hammer.
My dewclaw! Cats have an extra claw—like a thumbnail—high up on the inside of their paws, near where the wrist would be in human form. Dewclaws aren’t good for much. They don’t even hit the ground when a cat walks. But most werecats can flex their dewclaws, and I was no exception. If I could move it enough to puncture all the layers of duct tape, I’d have that weak spot in my bindings I’d wished for earlier.
“Did she let him out?” Kevin repeated, as I flexed my dewclaw desperately, trying not to squirm as I worked.
I glanced at Marc, silently hoping that they’d hit me again, instead of him. Then I met Yarnell’s gaze boldly. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Know.” But instead of hauling me up, he stomped across the room toward Marc and pulled his right foot back, preparing to slam his heavy boot into Marc’s ribs.
My pulse raced, and I swallowed thickly. “Wait! I’m serious. Even if she had let him out, she wouldn’t have told me about it. She wouldn’t have told anyone, so I can’t imagine where you’re getting your information.”
“Fine,” Kevin said, and Yarnell let his foot drop, though it was clear neither of them planned to reveal their sources. “Let’s talk about something you do know about. When will your dad move against Malone?”
My heart pounded, and I began to sweat in spite of the cool draft near the floor. I flexed my paw furiously, wiggling the dewclaw as much as I could. And finally that tiny, vestigial claw popped silently through the layers of tape binding my wrists.
I could have squealed with relief, but it wasn’t over yet. I couldn’t move the dewclaw enough to actually cut the tape, so I’d still have to rip it open the hard way. But I couldn’t do that with Kevin watching me.
Exhaling dread and frustration, I glanced at Marc, silently apologizing for what I was about to do. I needed a distraction, and the only thing that would take all eyes off me was putting them all on him.
Marc blinked at me and nodded, telling me to go ahead with whatever I had to do. My guilt level sky-rocketed at his selfless submission, but I forced the words out anyway, staring at Kevin with challenge written in every line of my face. “Fuck you.”
Kevin’s face flamed with anger, and instead of looking to Yarnell, he turned toward Marc himself, drawing his own foot back. As all eyes focused on Marc, I pulled my arms apart with all the strength left in my body. My shoulders ached. Tape tugged at my recently grown fur. And my pulse spiked with the fear that even though I’d come so close, I would still be too late. Or too weak.
Kevin’s foot slammed into Marc’s ribs, and his whole body jerked in pain. Then, just when I though it wasn’t going to happen, the tape tore open at my back with a loud ripping sound.
All heads turned my way. Kevin’s foot was cocked and ready to fly again. I gave my arms one last, violent tug, and the tape pulled free from one arm, taking large patches of fur with it. I grabbed the edge of the couch for balance and was on my feet in an instant, slicing through the tape binding my ankles as I stood.
“What the hell!” Yarnell lunged for me, and I leapt to the left, ripping the remaining tape from my ankles with my human right hand. He tackled me a second later, driving us both to the ground. Yarnell tried to force my arms to the carpet, still staring in shock and disgust at my newly furry appendage.
I brought my knee up hard into his crotch, and he groaned miserably. His grip loosened in the face of intense pain, and I tugged my Shifted hand loose. Still wheezing in agony, Yarnell wrapped one hand around my throat and squeezed. Gagging, I unsheathed my claws and swiped them across his arm, shredding the flesh in one pass.
Blood sprayed my face, and I shoved Yarnell, then rolled out from under him. He howled, and clapped his good hand over the injury, trying to slow the blood loss.
I jumped to my feet just in time to see Kevin run at me. I dodged him to the left and dropped to the floor beside Marc. Dan stared at us in shock from the kitchen doorway, making no move to join either side of the fight. I ripped the tape from Marc’s arms, then rose into an immediate roundhouse as Kevin dove at me.
My boot hit his stomach, and he doubled over the blow, barely grunting because of the air he’d lost. But he grabbed my human wrist as I tried to run, and jerked me backward so brutally I heard a bone crack, and pain radiated from my fingers all the way into my elbow. His fist hit my back, and an all-new agony slammed into my kidney, so acute I couldn’t move. I clamped my jaws shut to keep from screaming and waking the neighbors as I breathed through the pain.
On the floor, Marc sat up and ripped the tape from his ankles. He leapt awkwardly to his feet, but Yarnell rammed him an instant later, dripping a trail of blood on his own carpet all the way across the room.
Marc went down on his back, with Yarnell on top of him. They alternated blows, grunting and wheezing as the fists flew.
Kevin tightened his grip on my broken arm, and I choked on a scream as he pulled his fist back for another blow. I twisted away from him and slashed my paw in a vicious arc. Blood instantly soaked his shredded shirt. He started to shriek, but I followed up with a breath-stealing blow to the gut, acutely aware that too much noise would lead to neighbor—and police—involvement. He knocked my feet out from under me and his weight crushed me to the floor.
Across the room, Marc rolled over Yarnell, still throwing punches. A moment later, Yarnell was on top again. Then he suddenly lunged sideways, and took a punch to the ribs from Marc as he shoved one hand under an armchair. When his arm emerged, he held Dan’s framing hammer.
